Hurry, whispers a voice in my head. Grandmother’s voice.
“Where are you?” I choke back tears. When Grandmother doesn’t answer, I turn to Koré. “Where are the edam?”
Koré stands in the alley covered in blood with ten broken bodies at her feet. “What’s left of them is with you, Arrah.”
Her voice is a soft coo, but her words don’t make sense.
The blood in my veins turns to ice. “What do you mean what’s left of them?”
I wrap my arm around my belly, thinking of the last time I saw Grandmother, at the Blood Moon Festival. The endless colorful tents and sparks of magic dancing in the air. The beat of the djembe drums and the witchdoctors’ chants. Grandmother’s silver locs reaching her waist as she sat cross-legged in front of me. Her gap-toothed smile. The bones don’t lie, she said. But they hadn’t warned her either.
Koré pats me on the shoulder. Her touch slows my heartbeat, quells my stomach. Her magic commands me to be calm, and the more I struggle against it, the deeper it draws me into its embrace.
“Wait at the Almighty Temple until I arrive,” Koré says. “There’s still a chance to stop your sister.”
I nod, but it’s only a reflex. “Is my grandmother dead?” I know the answer.
Koré casts a glance behind us. “Mouran, take them.”
A tall man—no, not a man, an orisha—steps out of the shadows. His eyes are ice and stand out against his black skin and woolly hair. Mouran, the orisha of the sea, here in the flesh, his barbed tail curled at his feet. He flashes his teeth and moonlight shines off their sharp points.
“Go now!” Koré shouts, and Mouran wraps his magic around Terra and me. He drags us away, but I don’t want to go. I need to know what happened to my grandmother. I grit my teeth and the tribal magic thrums inside me. It roots me in the empty space between the alley and the sea, but my mind—my consciousness—stays with Koré.
In the alley, the air shifts as my sister steps out of the void in front of Koré. Efiya wears a white flowing sheath, her black hair in a crown of braids—like when I put my hair up. In this state, I can see her true form. Her eyes are pale emeralds—lacking the intensity of a full-blooded demon. Ribbons of Heka’s light thread through her ka.
“You have something I want.” Efiya breaks into a smile that cuts like shards of glass. “And I haven’t the time for your games.”
Her voice is a sweet song that breaks me. There’s nothing left of the little girl in her.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” Koré dips her head. “Hello. I’m the moon orisha, I’m eternal.”
Efiya laughs, and Koré crashes to her knees, her whole body shaking under the weight of my sister’s magic. For once her braids fall still. “I’m your god now, orisha. Give me what I want.”
My sister’s magic buzzes in the air as Mouran whispers, “Time to let go.”
His magic tugs at my mind, drawing me deeper into the void. The scent of salt water fills my nose. My body is already on the deck of a massive black ship. Slow to follow, my consciousness moves farther from the alley, still watching the scene play out.
“I should warn you.” Koré coughs up blood. “I’ve always been bad at losing.”
“Is that so?” Efiya bends down and grabs the Twin King’s chin. “I can fix that.”
Koré’s neck snaps.
Efiya
I bend time so I can relive the memory. I must know where I went wrong so that I will never fail again. I stand on the edge of the valley overlooking Heka’s temple. The edam waste their time performing rituals for a god who has abandoned them. Fools.
In the valley, 114 ripe kas hum in tune with the djembe drums. They are the witchdoctors. The strongest among all the tribes. Their magic vibrates against my skin. Once I consume their kas, that magic will belong to me. Sensing my presence, the witchdoctors stop their dance to stare up at me. The drums fall silent and there’s nothing left except the hum of magic and the whisper of wind in the grass. They’ve been waiting for me.
I take another step in the void and land in front of the chieftains. My grandmother, head of Tribe Aatiri, steps forward. Silver locs snake down her back, and a bone charm rattles around her neck. A fool’s artifact. The other chieftains step forward too. These five are the strongest of the edam, and more powerful than the rest of the witchdoctors. Their magic crackles in my ears like thunder.
Grandmother is hiding something. They all are. They’re using their combined magic to conceal a shared secret . . . a secret that will be mine once I consume their kas. They can’t hide their anguish, their fear, or their knowledge that their lives are forfeit. I grow sick of their emotions. I close their windpipes as my demons descend upon the valley to begin their siege. The witchdoctors fight with magic and weapons alike, but they are no match for the demons. Every time one of them dies, I absorb their ka. My body tingles as I grow stronger. It pulses.
Grandmother falls to her knees, along with the other chieftains. They claw at their throats, but she laughs. I search her mind for their shared secret. I see a hundred images, a thousand, a million. Endless flashes into her past, her birth, her childhood, her marriage, her children’s births. She’s trying to distract me from seeing the truth. I press harder, until her nose bleeds. I see them together now—the chieftains, making a pact. They perform a ritual to bind themselves to another.
I grab the old Aatiri by the chin and lift her face up. I’m out of breath, my body trembling. I need their kas. I crave them. I must have them. I force life back into her body. Fix her crushed throat. I will have my answer.
In my moment of lapse she plunges a dagger into her heart. The knife weeps with a curse, and I don’t realize before her ka slips through my fingers. It’s icy in my hand, and I’m empty, even with all the other kas I’ve consumed. I’ve allowed them to trick me. I must know where their kas have gone. I must take back what belongs to me.
I replay the moment again and again until I see one face—one I know like my own.
The chieftains bound their kas to Arrah.
I move forward through time, past the moment I killed the orisha Koré in the alley. She was nothing more than a nuisance. She had removed her memory of hiding the Demon King’s ka; a neat trick, but it made her of no use to me. I step into the courtyard at the villa, into the darkness of the demons who still wait for me to free them.
I’ve taken only a step or two when Mother bursts through the double doors of the villa and storms into the courtyard. Anger rolls off her in waves. I’m in no mood to deal with her. I need time to myself to look at all the possibilities.
The tears streaking down Mother’s face give me pause. I’ve never seen her cry save for in her memories. She’s crying because of what I’ve done. I didn’t need the witchdoctors’ kas, but I wanted them anyway.
I’ve seen this outcome a thousand times, yet I want to step back into the void and disappear. I can’t stand the look of disappointment and disgust in her eyes. In this moment she hates me; she despises me; she wishes I was never born. It isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. I’ve never been able to do anything to please her. She always reminds me of what a failure I am for not finding and releasing the Demon King. He’s all she cares about, but I’ll release him in my own time.