by Ayana Gray
Koffi’s eyes were still closed, a small smile on her lips, but his had caught something over her shoulder a few feet away from them—movement. It had been quick, almost imperceptible. He sat up abruptly.
“What’s wrong?” Koffi sat up too, alarmed.
“Um, nothing.” Ekon tried to keep the fear from his voice. “It’s just . . .” He tried to find words. “I think we should . . .”
“Right.” There was no mistaking the hurt in Koffi’s voice. “Yeah, we . . . should probably stop that there.”
No. It was the absolute last thing Ekon wanted, but at the same time his heart was beginning to pound in a new, unpleasant way. Again he glanced toward the trees, where he’d seen that brief flash of something. He didn’t want to tell Koffi that he was almost certain someone else was there, watching them—especially when that someone was wearing a very specific shade of blue. He hoped he sounded calmer than he felt.
“It’s just, we’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” he said. “We could probably use the sleep.”
Koffi didn’t look at him. “Of course. Good night, then.” She didn’t say another word as she stood and brushed herself off before notably moving to the other side of the fire. She lay on her side, back turned away from him, and did not move again. Ekon waited until she was still before rising, quietly moving toward the two trees where he’d seen the movement. He’d only just stepped between them when a hand closed over his mouth.
“Don’t. Move.”
Both relief and anger doused the fear in Ekon’s chest. He knew that voice. The hand clapped over his mouth withdrew. In the darkness, his older brother winked.
“Kam.” Ekon tried to keep his voice low.
“In the flesh.”
“How did you—?”
“Shh.” Ekon ducked out of his brother’s reach as they both watched a large silhouette emerge from the darkness directly across the campsite from them. Adiah. The great beast sniffed at the air a moment before circling a spot in the dirt and settling there. In seconds, she was curled into a ball, asleep.
“Incredible,” Kamau said. His eyes were locked on Adiah as though she were a mountain of gold. “After all this time, I never thought I’d see it myself.”
Ekon scowled. “Why didn’t you announce yourself?”
“Didn’t want to interrupt you.” Kamau looked at him, waggling his brows suggestively. “You looked like you were having quite a good time with your friend.” He turned back to Adiah. “That was clever of you, using the smell of your own food to lure that thing to your camp.”
Ekon’s head was beginning to hurt. This was too much; there were too many emotions warring within him at once. He was angry and embarrassed, but above all things, he was uneasy.
“How did you find me?”
Kamau rolled his eyes. “You didn’t exactly make it hard.” Behind his charming façade, Ekon saw a trace of real concern. “I told you to cover your tracks, Ekon, gods. You couldn’t have left a clearer trail for someone to follow.”
Ekon tempered a wave of humiliation. He’d assured his brother that he knew what he doing, that he would conduct a competent hunt. Now he’d made a fool of himself. For the first time in days, his fingers itched to start up their old tapping. Deliberately, he changed the subject. “How long has the hunting party been here?” he asked.
“A few days,” said Kamau.
“And you’ve . . . faired okay?”
In answer, a shadow passed over Kamau’s expression, visible even in the faint light. “Not exactly,” he said with foreboding. “We got caught up in a fog.”
“Near the border.” Ekon nodded. “We ended up in the same one.”
“It took us a full day to get through it,” Kamau went on. “By the time we did, two warriors were gone—Zahur and Daudi, I don’t know if you’d remember them.”
Ekon felt as though a stone had dropped in his stomach. He didn’t tell Kamau that he remembered both of them, that he’d spoken to each of them just before he and Koffi had entered the jungle. It occurred to him now how lucky he and Koffi had been. When he looked up, his brother was still watching him in earnest. Apprehension filled him along with a strange kind of pity. He didn’t know how he was going to explain everything he’d learned in the last few days in a matter of minutes, but in that moment he decided. He had to try.
“Kamau,” he started. “I need to tell you something. A lot of it’s going to sound unbelievable at first, but the Shetani is a—”
“That girl, by the fire. The one you were just kissing.” Kamau’s eyes flitted to Koffi, discerning. “Who is she?”
This time, Ekon winced. “Her name’s Koffi,” he said. “I met her in Lkossa, and—”
“Looks a little rough around the edges,” said Kamau, craning his neck. He looked back just in time to see Ekon’s deepening frown and raised his hands defensively. “Hey, no judgment. I just didn’t think common Yaba girls were your type—”
“She’s not common, whatever that means,” said Ekon through his teeth. “And she’s not Yaba. She’s Gede.”
Kamau’s expression changed instantly. “What?”
“You heard me.” He’d never spoken to his older brother this way. Kamau had always been bigger, so Ekon had never wanted to pick a fight with him. But the idea of him—or anyone—speaking ill of Koffi while she lay asleep just a few feet away was something he couldn’t abide. He watched confusion spread across Kamau’s face, then faint disgust.
“Ekkie, if you want something easy, there are other ways to get—”
Ekon’s hand went to the hilt of his hanjari, a subtle movement that Kamau didn’t miss. His brother shook his head.
“All that time teaching you about weapons, when I really should have been teaching you about women.” He patted Ekon’s cheek indulgently. “But don’t worry. We can talk properly after we deliver that abomination to Father Olufemi.”
“What?” Every muscle in Ekon’s body grew taut. “What are you talking about?”
Like that, Kamau’s smirk returned. “Come on, Ekon, I know you wanted to hunt it down yourself, but trust me, the fact that you went into the Greater Jungle and found the Shetani will be more than enough to qualify you for Yaba warriorship. Once we get it delivered to Father Olufemi, you’ll be initiated in no time, maybe even made a kapteni.”
Ekon spoke again before he could lose his nerve. “Kam, I really need you to listen to me. The Shetani isn’t the monster we’ve thought it was, it’s a human girl named—”
“Ekon.” Kamau frowned. “You can’t honestly be that foolish.”
“I’m not foolish.”
“No?” Kamau raised an eyebrow. There was a hard edge in his gaze as his eyes flitted from Ekon back to the campsite’s fire. “Who told you the Shetani was a human, huh? The Gede girl? Let me guess, she told you that the monster was good and deserves to be free?”
“Kamau.” A nerve in Ekon’s temple was beginning to throb. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen in this jungle. And you don’t know Koffi—”
“She’s the same girl from the Night Zoo, isn’t she?” A dangerous glint flashed in Kamau’s eyes. “The one you let go?”
Ekon started. Why would Kamau bring up what had happened at the Night Zoo now? “Yes,” he said quietly. “That’s her.”
Kamau leveled his gaze. “Strange, isn’t it?” he asked. “How a girl who worked at the Night Zoo as a beastkeeper suddenly has an interest in helping you find the most dangerous beast in the entire region?”
The words stung more than Ekon cared to admit. “We had a deal,” he said. “She agreed to help me track the Shetani down, and in exchange I agreed to—”
“To pay her?” Kamau’s voice was full of derision. “You honestly think that would be enough to keep her loyalty if someone else offered so much as a shaba more?”
Ekon shook his head. “Koffi wou
ldn’t do that. I mean, it started out like that, but she—”
“You don’t know what she would or wouldn’t do,” said Kamau. “You don’t know her. You’ve been in this jungle for a little over a week by my count, and that was all it took for you to believe her over your own people, over me?”
There was real hurt in his voice, a hurt Ekon had never heard before. “Kamau.” When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“I don’t need your apology.” Kamau’s voice was dangerously low. “But what I want is your word.”
“My word?”
“The rest of the Kuhani’s hunting party is on the way, they’ll be here by morning. I want your word that you’ll help us take it down tomorrow.”
Betray Koffi. That was what his brother was really asking him to do. Betray Adiah. Betray all your plans.
“Kamau.” He shook his head. “What you’re asking, it’s not that simple. I don’t know if I can do that. I—”
“No, it’s very simple, Ekon.” His brother’s eyes were hard. “Tomorrow, you choose. Stand with your people, or stand against us.”
CHAPTER 27
From the Start
When Koffi woke, she was warm.
It had nothing to do with the splendor, though she did feel splendid, at least at first. The feeling started in her cheeks and prickled down her neck as she lay on the jungle floor, pretending to be asleep just a few minutes longer.
He kissed you.
She gnawed at her bottom lip as the words crossed her mind for the hundredth time, the thousandth. Ekon had kissed her, and she’d kissed him—several times. The memory of it had crept into her dreams like a vine, curling around her in vivid, oversaturated colors. She’d certainly liked some boys at the Night Zoo, but she’d never had one like her back. All of the tiny moments repeated themselves in her imagination. She thought of the way Ekon’s lips had found hers, the suddenness of the gesture. He’d apologized for not asking—because of course he had—but then, when she’d told him it was okay, he’d kissed her again . . . and again . . . and again, and she’d wanted him to. She thought of his hands, the way they’d moved across her skin, that sound he’d made when they’d moved closer . . . she’d liked kissing Ekon, but the truth was there had been other moments too, before that kiss. She liked the way he sometimes saw the world in numbers, she liked the way he walked. And she liked the things he said.
Why not both?
Ekon was the first person in her life to suggest that she didn’t have to choose between her heart and her mind; he was the first person to like both parts of her.
“Hey, are you awake?”
She shot up, ripped away from her reverie, and turned. Ekon was already on his feet, expression inscrutable. Their campsite was already packed up, including her things. A few feet away, Adiah was up too, stretching.
“Are we going now?” She looked around. The sky was still a deep blue, but the sun hadn’t quite risen over the trees’ peaks. It was the earliest they’d ever gotten up.
“The Sons of the Six will be doing their handoff soon,” said Ekon. He wasn’t looking at her. Instead his gaze was focused somewhere over her head. “We need to get going if we want to get to the border just after it.”
“Oh.” The handoff. In the wonder of last night, she’d nearly forgotten about everything—their plan, what they still had left to do. Life hadn’t stopped.
“I just need to wash my face,” she said. “Then I’ll be ready.”
She didn’t give Ekon the chance to say anything else before jumping to her feet and heading to the pond she’d gone to before. It wasn’t large, just a small interruption of water among the trees. Dawn’s pale light now reflected on its smooth surface like glass, so perfectly still she almost felt bad for touching it. She cupped her hands around the water, relishing the cool on her face as she splashed herself with it.
You’re imagining it, she told herself as the water dripped down her face. I’m sure it’s fine.
She repeated the words to herself, but deep down, she knew. Something about Ekon had changed. She’d felt it the moment it had happened, the moment he’d stopped kissing her and grown stiff. Had he had second thoughts? Decided he didn’t like her the way she liked him?
She heard a sound behind her, a quiet rustle, and turned. Adiah crept into view, a few yards behind her. She was a beast again, no longer the beautiful young woman she’d spoken to a day prior, but her dark eyes were uncannily expressive. She moved to stand next to Koffi at the pond’s edge, nudging her shoulder. Koffi touched a hand to her nose.
“Thank you.”
It was too dangerous to do what she’d done before, to take part of the splendor in Adiah’s body away again so that she could be human; Koffi suddenly wished she could. Arguably, Adiah could understand her more than anyone else in the world. She wondered if—all those years ago—the other daraja had ever felt the way she did.
“Koffi.” Behind her, Ekon’s voice interrupted the silence. Koffi and Adiah both turned, nonplussed. Adiah then began to drink from the pond. For her part, Koffi stood and faced him.
“Yes?”
Ekon’s hands were shoved into the pockets of his tunic. He looked visibly uncomfortable. “Before we head out, I think . . . we should talk—about last night.”
It took every fiber of Koffi’s being to keep her face impassive, to keep still. She didn’t know whether to feel tentative or excited. Ekon wanted to talk about things. Maybe that meant things hadn’t gone as badly as she’d thought. Surely, it wouldn’t make sense to talk about something if it wasn’t good? What if he was sorry about the way things had ended? What if he hadn’t wanted them to end at all? She gave Adiah a pointed look and was grateful when the daraja subtly moved down the pond’s edge to give them a bit of space. Then she nodded at Ekon.
“Okay, go ahead.”
It seemed to take years for Ekon to speak. “Last night was . . . unexpected.”
Unexpected. Koffi let the word marinate in her head. Unexpected wasn’t an inherently bad way to describe kissing, but it didn’t sound promising either.
“In fact,” Ekon continued, “everything about this venture has been unexpected, from the moment we stepped into this jungle. I’ve tried to keep a strategy in mind, because that’s the way I was taught to take on problems, but . . . but I’ve made a mistake. One I hope that, one day, you can forgive me for.”
A mistake. That was the only word Koffi heard. Mistake. Mistake. Last night had been a mistake. Suddenly, the air was unbearably hot, and all she wanted to do was throw herself in the pond so she couldn’t hear the rest of this.
“I feel . . . torn.” Ekon was staring at his feet. “I thought I knew what I wanted, but lately things have gotten, um, complicated.”
Complicated.
Like that, the hopeful flicker in Koffi’s chest died.
“If you wish you hadn’t kissed me, you can just say it.” The words came out harsh, but she didn’t take them back. “No need to beat around the bush.”
“What?” Ekon looked up, eyes wide. “No, I—”
“It shouldn’t have happened.” Koffi forced the words, trying to ignore the growing sting behind her eyes. “And it won’t happen again.”
“Koffi.” Ekon had gone stock-still. “Stop.”
“No!” She blinked hard, tried to temper the growing heat in her stomach. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Badwa’s words about emotion, but they were drowned out by other words. Ekon’s words.
Mistake. Complicated. Mistake. Complicated. Mistake.
You were a mistake, a new sinister voice hissed in her ear. Of course he doesn’t like you. Just look at you. You’re a mess, you’re complicated. You’re too much.
“Koffi!” Ekon took a step forward, but it was too late. A low growl had rumbled, and they both looked right to see that A
diah had risen to her feet. Her hackles were on end and her lips were pulled back in a snarl. Koffi went rigid.
“What’s—?”
There was no warning as the spear cut through the air. It whistled over the pond, gliding like a hawk before its blade grazed Adiah’s shoulder and landed in a nearby tree with a dull thud, splintering its wood. Her dark blood splattered, staining the dirt as she roared. At once, Koffi rose, but not fast enough.
She heard the whooping first, a terrifying sound echoing from all around her. Fear spiked through her body as, one by one, she saw figures begin to emerge from the jungle’s darkness, all wearing a familiar shade of blue, a shade she recognized.
No.
It was impossible; her mind turned into a frantic hive of buzzing thoughts. Why were the Sons of the Six here? How had they known where to find them? Instinctively, she reached for the splendor, but it seemed to slip from her, like trying to grasp at water.
The warriors circled them like vultures. From their midst, one particularly handsome warrior emerged, and Koffi stiffened. There was an uncanny familiarity in the cut of his jaw, in the way he wore his dark, tapered hair, and in the narrow shape of his eyes. The only thing foreign about him was the triumphant smirk across his face that she’d never seen on Ekon’s. She didn’t understand the words that left the warrior’s mouth, reverberating against the trees.
“Well done, Ekkie.” His voice was rich and full of supreme triumph as he nodded. It took Koffi a second too long to realize he wasn’t looking at her as he spoke. She followed his gaze and stared at Ekon. His expression was stony.
“Kamau—”
“Grab the rope!” The warrior Ekon had called Kamau beckoned several burly warriors forward. They were carrying rope as thick as Koffi’s arms. Her heart sank.
“No.” She didn’t recognize the sound of her own voice. It was frail and soft, and it barely carried as the warriors’ whooping grew. “No, you don’t understand. You can’t—”
It happened too fast. Adiah’s eyes widened, full of fear. She had started to turn, to flee, when a giant noose snaked through the air, cast by one of the warriors. It landed around her neck and tightened. She tried to roar, but the sound was choked. The warriors jeered.
