“You are an enigma.” Efiya takes one of my braids into her hand. She runs her fingers down the length of it. “One day I’ll see inside your mind and know your secrets.”
I blink at her. “Why does it bother you so much that you can’t see in my mind?”
“I see all the possibilities of what can and will be.” Efiya twirls my hair around her finger. “I see across time with little effort, but when I focus on you, the future is blank. I can’t see the consequences of any action I take against you or any action of yours. Why is that, dear sister?”
For all the magic she has, she lacks common sense. The answer is obvious, isn’t it? I swallow hard, but it doesn’t soothe my parched throat. I haven’t been the same since the first ritual, and the second one took a little more from me. I’ve walked the plane between life and death. The demons caught my soul and almost wove me into the tapestry of Kefu. Even with most of my strength back, there’s a part of me missing.
I’m already dead in her future. That’s the answer. I’ve traded enough years that I ought to be. “You’re giving me a headache asking questions I can’t answer.”
Efiya tugs at my braid so hard that my scalp screams. I reach up and pull one of her loose curls back. She seems delighted by this exchange and laughs. In this way, she isn’t the sixteen-year-old girl she appears to be. She still marvels at the oddest of things because she’s never experienced them before.
I snatch my hand away and press my fists against my legs again. I can’t forget who she is, what she is, the things she’s done. She plucked a demon’s ka from thin air. “Where have you been?”
“Hunting,” Efiya whispers like she’s sharing her most sacred secret. “I killed an orisha today.”
My mind reels with a thousand horrible thoughts. “You what?” I say, my head pounding.
Efiya frowns. “He wouldn’t tell me where Koré hid the Demon King’s ka.”
I shake my head, my whole body trembling. “Efiya, you must stop. Can’t you see what will happen if you release the Demon King? The world will bleed.”
“Yes.” She leans closer to me, her eyes bright. “And I have seen the afterworld too. It’s beautiful, sister.”
I wipe away tears as a lanky middle-aged man with pockmarked, suntanned skin steps into the garden. Nezi is with him. Nezi’s limp is gone, and she walks with a newfound confidence. At first I’m confused, and think that Efiya has healed her. That is, until I see that both her eyes and the man’s are shades of green with a spark of light that isn’t natural. The man runs his fingers through his greasy hair and winks at me. He has the same mangy hair as the ginger cat—but I can’t stop gaping at Nezi. She’s never walked straight in all my years of knowing her, and there’s nothing left of her in these cold eyes.
“Nezi?” I stutter.
The thing pretending to be our porter smiles.
“She’s wanted to die since Ka-Priest Ren Eké hurt her,” Efiya says. “Mother should’ve done it a long time ago, but she’s too sentimental.”
I’m stunned into silence. My heart aches for Nezi—the real Nezi. I’d seen her only moments ago in the vegetable garden, or was it already the demon I saw then? I hadn’t known she felt that way; I hadn’t even suspected it. Ty, maybe, because of her outbursts, but never Nezi.
“Do you like my new vessel, Arrah?” muses the ginger-haired Merka. “It’s rather plain, but better than the cat, isn’t it?”
“I will speak to you now, Efiya,” Arti calls down from the balcony, her voice tight.
“Coming, Mother!” Efiya calls back, not even bothering to look Arti’s way.
“I took your advice, sister.” She climbs to her feet. I watch as beyond her, a horde of demons—too many to count—enters through the gates of our villa, and I can’t hide from the truth. My sister has released hundreds of demons to feast upon the kas of unsuspecting people. She’s killed an orisha without a second thought. All this time, I was worried about the Demon King, but Heka’s warning had been about her too. “I’m building my court. Don’t worry, I’ll leave Ty and Oshhe for Mother, and Terra for you. It’s only fair that you have playthings too.”
She arches an eyebrow like she’s expecting me to thank her.
“Do you like my subjects?” Efiya beams. “I’ll make you one too if you want.”
I say nothing, clutching strands of her hair in my fist while she slips back into the void.
Ancestor bones.
Bitter iboga bark.
Mint and ginger.
Palm oil.
Hair.
Ancestor bones.
Bitter iboga bark.
Mint and ginger.
Palm oil.
Hair.
I mean to kill my sister tonight.
Twenty-Nine
When evening settles upon the villa, Efiya steps into the void and vanishes. A weight lifts from my shoulders. She’s left none of herself behind to watch. With her gone, the villa is more spacious, the air cleaner. Her magic, along with Arti’s, had felt like a thousand beating wings bearing down on me.
Arms crossed, I lean against the porter’s house as Merka marches the other demons toward Kefu. There are at least two hundred of them, if not more. My sister hasn’t raised that many demons as a simple game. She’s raised an army. She means to bring the Kingdom to its knees. Rudjek, Sukar, Essnai, Majka, Kira—everyone—will be in danger if I can’t stop her.
Once the demons are gone, I walk to the nehet tree near the pond, careful to keep my steps unhurried in case Arti is watching. I wait until nightfall to search for the bones. My fingers meet nothing but the cool underbelly of the soil beneath the warm top layer. They’re not here.
Sweat glides down my forehead and my back. Did I bury the bones under another tree? Did Arti find them? A white haze of confusion clouds my thoughts. Where are they? The grave was shallow. It shouldn’t take this long to find.
Oshhe clears his throat behind me. “You never listen to my stories anymore, Little Priestess.”
I pivot around on my heels, my heart pounding against my ribs. My father stands tall and still like one of the stone monuments in Tamar. He’s always been a lean man, but he’s too thin now, his cheeks and shoulders bony, his features sharp. Shame washes over me and I look away. I haven’t given up hope for him, but for now, stopping Efiya is more important.
“You haven’t told any stories in a long time,” I remind him. “I miss hearing them.” What I don’t say is that right after the curse when he still told stories—it wasn’t the same without his heart in them.
My father frowns as his attention shifts to the holes. “What are you doing?”
I suck in a deep breath through my teeth. “I’m digging holes.”
Oshhe stares at me, his eyes sharp for once. It’s the magic inside him on alert. If he thinks that I’m acting against Arti, he’ll try to stop me, but my mother is the least of my concerns now. She said that she wouldn’t underestimate me again, but behind her cold words there was a spark of pride—a spark of respect. Of course I almost had to die to win my mother’s approval.