The mist creeps up my thighs and torso, wrapping me in a cocoon as solid as stone. Cold stretches through my body, and ash coats my tongue as it leeches the years from my life. Years gone in a few breaths. Blisters crop up on my arms where the vines burrowed into my skin and the roots of my teeth ache. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back the pain. It seems that magic would rather break me than heed my call.
Soil shifts beneath me as I slip into the space before unconsciousness. Neither here nor there. The place before dreams and nightmares, where darkness clings to my skin like beads of sweat. Anticipation and longing choke me as my mind splits in two.
Something or someone latches on to me, wrenching my split mind from my body. I try to resist, but the pull isn’t physical—it’s spiritual and too strong. The same was true at the Blood Moon Festival when my ka almost untethered from my body.
Suns and moons race across the sky so fast that they become brilliant sparks of gold and silver. My ka stretches, leaving the broken shell of myself behind. Unfamiliar eyes bore into me, eyes that peer across time from some future place. Eyes that glow like the green fog that descends upon the city after a thunderstorm. The serpent eyes from Grandmother’s vision. The demon. Had I been in my body, my heart would’ve quit that very moment.
“You don’t belong here,” the demon whispers in my ear.
The voice is that of a child. A very young one at that. Her magic pricks my skin. It rattles my bones like it’s trying to tear me apart at the seams. I have enough sense to be more afraid than jealous. My consciousness stretches every which way. If it stretches any farther, there will be nothing left of me to return home. The child’s magic slams into me so hard my spine stiffens against the tree—a reminder that my body awaits.
“Our time is yet to come,” she adds, voice full of mischief. “Go back and find what you seek.”
I seek the child snatcher, but if the demon’s not the one stealing children, then who is? Could Arti have been right all this time about the craven bone, and the anti-magic? That someone in the Vizier’s family was guilty?
My ka shrinks back into the night, but I don’t return to my body. A single moon settles in the sky, and I am in the present again. My ka floats high above Tamar, even higher than the three giants that watch over the city: the Almighty Temple to the north, the Almighty Palace to the west, and the Vizier’s estate to the south. To the east, idle boats crowd the harbor on the Serpent River and the docks teem with people. I descend with my will alone and glide through the streets along the scholars’ villas. Through the merchants’ row houses and the mud-brick huts along the riverbanks. My path is not linear. My ka is a tapestry rippling in the wind.
This isn’t at all what I expected from performing my very first ritual. Witchdoctors make it look so easy, but it’s like wading through a forest of twisted branches that threaten to trap you in their snare. In this state, I’m a child learning to walk for the first time.
I’m aware of my body against the tree. The bark grows new thorns that sink into my back, and the pain shoots down the tether to my ka like lightning. Yes, magic abides in me, but it’s killing me too. My ka lingers above the orphanage as if snagged on a clothesline.
“Twenty-gods, Majka,” Rudjek tells him. “What happened to your face?”
Dread sweeps through my ka as I spot them. They are both dressed in black elaras with hoods shrouding their faces. For the second time tonight, my heart almost stops. What is Rudjek doing here at this forbidden hour? I refuse to believe the worst as my mind struggles to find a plausible explanation.
“Kira is what happened,” Majka groans, rubbing his forehead.
“What did you do this time?” Rudjek laughs.
Majka shrugs. “I may have hit on her sister.”
“Be glad Kira didn’t break your arm for that.” Rudjek wags his finger. “One would think you’d be smart enough not to annoy a girl who wears a dozen daggers on her person at any given time. She has beaten you several times in the arena.”
“She’s beaten you too!” Majka retorts, incredulous.
“She beat me once,” Rudjek fires back, “and I was blindfolded.”
“Liar,” Majka hisses. “You were not blindfolded.”
“With one hand tied behind my back,” Rudjek insists.
“It’s cold and I have to piss.” Majka wraps his arms around his shoulders. “There’s no one out here. This place is as silent as the dead.”
“Stop your whining.” Rudjek frowns, then startles. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?” Majka jerks his head like a scared bird. “What is it?”
Rudjek’s palms slip to the hilts of his shotels. “I don’t know.”
The echo of my heart leaping in my chest travels down the tether to my ka.
Majka’s gaze darts around, his voice low. “Could Arrah be wrong about this demon?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Rudjek draws his swords. “I trust her.”
“I trust her too,” Majka grumbles under his breath. “But if she’s right, then we’re the only two standing between the demon and the orphanage right now. That does not bode well for us.”
Heat spreads through my body despite the pain of the thorns in my back. Foolish boy. Of course he would sneak out tonight to help. He’s so ridiculous to think that he could—not that I’m any better. I feel a pang of relief seeing him here.
Something tugs at my ka, dragging me away from the orphanage. It’s not the green-eyed serpent this time. I travel through the rainbow of canopies in the East Market. A grayness clings to the city, muting its bright colors. Even the drums, flutes, and harps from the street musicians sound dull. Brewed beer, pipe smoke, and spiced meats saturate the air. The sounds of unbridled laughter and conversations rush in at once. In dark alleys and corners, the market brims with those who trade in rawhide, ivory, and secrets. Night merchants who can read your heart’s desire as well as a real witchdoctor who can read bones. Even with so much fear hanging over the city, there are people who refuse to let it change their routine. They keep hope alive.
My reflection stares up at me in a puddle of water. I’m almost transparent—a shadow of my true self. People pass through my form without pause. The split between my body and ka widens to a gaping wound. Should it feel like this, or have I traveled too far? I’m both lying on cool soil beside the tree and standing in the market. Confusion fogs my mind and some grave knowledge slips through my thoughts like a secret on the wind.
A brightness amidst so much gray catches my attention. It’s amorphous, like me, but there’s a solidity that I lack. Though the patrons do not sense me, they move around the brightness as if it’s an orisha statue in their path. I follow, passing patrons gulping down mugs of beer and placing bets on cockfights. People spitting tobacco juice between their teeth and counting tallies. Children playing on the streets.
Kira and Essnai wade through the crowd, searching face after face. They walk so close that their hands brush, and their auras tangle in brilliant shades of blue. Essnai grips her staff while Kira fingers a blade sheathed against her thigh. From their body language the amas aren’t only looking for the child snatcher, they’re protecting each other too.