Wings of Ebony

by J. Elle

  “What is it you mean because of where you live?”

  “People where I’m from don’t have a lot of money. Our houses aren’t big and fancy.” I face him. How do I make him understand? He’s never seen my home. “Most cars—the things we use to get around—aren’t shiny and new. Shit, if the fridge is full, we’re doing good. Some dope slinging, too. But cops see that and think we’re all that way. They see brown skin walking my block and assume hustlin’ means we’re bad and have no future. Like we can’t come up from that shit.”

  “So they see your house and think you are what you live around?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He jerks back, alarmed. “I would not do well in this hood. They would see my home and it would be very bad.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because our walls are woven together by horse shit.”

  I laugh so hard my cheeks burn. He smiles that twinkling grin of his and I’m almost woozy. His bare chest tenses and relaxes with his every move. Suddenly it feels more like midday instead of midnight.

  “I have someone coming to visit, I should say good night. We’ll be out of here soon.”

  “Ah. That’s too bad. You come back, yes?”

  I shrug. “I don’t think so. But who knows?”

  “And if I don’t like this idea?” His plump lips spread and even his teeth sparkle.

  I tuck a hair behind my ear, studying cracks in the ground beneath my toes. Maybe I can chat a little longer.

  “How did you do that thing with the weapon earlier?” I ask, twisting the end of my hoodie.

  “Oh, that trick is very easy.” He squats, brushing the dusty floor of the pit with his fingertips. “But only one I can do here, I’m afraid. I am sure you can do much more than my silly tricks.”

  I laugh. “You’d think. What do you mean you can only do it here? Here in this pit?”

  “Yes, come. I’ll try to explain.” He gestures for me to join him on the ground.

  “I was born here,” he says. “But from what I learned, Jelani, our people used to command the winds and the rain, brighten the luminance of the stars themselves. The very sea followed our Ancestors’ commands. We were gods. We ruled this land. Now, sure”—he twists one hand over another and a tiny dish appears—“I can float a plate…”

  He rubs two fingers together and a red long-stem rose appears between them. “Or conjure a rose for a queen…”

  He hands it to me, our fingertips brushing, and I’m warm all over.

  “But we will never be what we once were as long as the Grays wield our magic.”

  That explains why he was so frustrated trying to keep the flame lit in the dining hall. Their magic is there, but small, stunted.

  Is that my problem too? I’m not even Ghizoni, not really. So if his magic is subdued, mine must be no more than an ember. I’m inches from the flames, but chilly all over when the realization washes over me.

  I have to get the cuffs to work.

  Without them I won’t be able to wield magic ever again—at all.

  And where would that leave Tasha? Where would that leave East Row?

  Puke burns its way up and I hunch over, leaving a pool of bile at my feet. Jhamal’s hand is on my back as I heave again. Nothing but spit this time.

  “Jelani, are you okay?”

  I clean my mouth with my sleeve. “I-I just have to figure this out th-these cuffs. O-or my sister… my home…”

  “Just them, my Queen? The spirit of our Ancestors remains alive in those cuffs. A relic that’s been in our tribe since the clouds were hung in the sky. And they chose to call to someone… for protection.”

  Someone… me.

  I’m tingly all over. “Your magic seems to be working okay out here. I mean, that weapon was wild.” Couldn’t they use that to defend themselves? Fight back?

  He brushes the dirt around us. “This is where the Elders were buried, next to the Ancestors. When I am here, I am closest to my roots. When I am here, my magic moves in me fiercely. But beyond this pit, simple spells are my limit, I’m afraid.”

  Wind unsettles the dusty pit floor and I can’t look away.

  “Can you feel them here, my Queen? Do they speak to you?”

  I press a palm to the dirt and close my eyes. At first the dirt is gritty between my fingers, then everything goes dark. Bursts of light swirl in my mind’s eye like someone turned on a TV in my head. Images of the forest—the familiar forest—and my little friend pull me in. The heat from his hand causes mine to sweat and we run. Over and under brush, around jpango trunks wider than I’ve ever seen. I’m dripping with sweat, my hands, my hair, my face.

  We run and this time there’s no crack.

  He takes me through the entire forest until I’m panting and breathless. No tall towers or steel buildings in sight. A tall peak swallowed by dense foliage is up ahead, so tall it nuzzles the clouds. Yiyo.

  Is this the before?

  Little Man pulls me toward the mountain and I can’t follow fast enough. Closer to the mountain I can make out Yiyo’s carved doors, but it doesn’t smell of oil and smut. Whiffs of rosemary and jasmine fill the air.

  This is the before.

  I can feel this place. It’s as real as the wind in my lungs, like the cool air sifting through my roots. Whispers play from the forest behind us, as if the trees themselves can talk, and they’re urging us on. The vision shakes like this might be the end. Like I might be pulled away.

  I’m not leaving. I focus hard on the scene. “What is it you want me to see?” I whisper to him, and we stop.

  “Where are we?” I ask Little Man, but he just stares at me. I reach for Yiyo’s door, but it escapes like sand between my fingers. The world around us shifts, obscuring everything. The trees lift, Yiyo dissolves into thin air and the forest behind us bleeds into the sea.

  Now a village surrounds us. A crowd of people sway in a circle, arm in arm, singing, celebrating. Music pounds like thunder and a sea of bells ting-ling. Gravel crackles under my feet. No one in the crowd even flinches, as if we’re not there.

  They’re wrapped in robes of purples and blues with threads in gold and bright pinks. Thin belts loop their waists and golden rings adorn their hair. More gold ornaments hug their knuckles, crown their heads, coil up their arms. Even their sandals are adorned with gilded beads between their toes.

  The Ghizoni, in all their glory.

  Before the Sickness, before the Chancellor.

  Clusters of cone huts are in the backdrop, their doors fashioned with hair-like fibers and dotted with flecks of gold. Wide smiles warm me up inside and laughter rings so loud it rattles in my head.

  I start to latch on to some sort of meaning, but the setting switches again in a dust storm of colors. Little Man holds fiercely to me this time as the people depart like dust on the wind. The next scene settles around us and Little Man digs his hands into me.

  I hold him tighter. “I-it’s okay. I-it’s just a dream. We’re gonna be okay.” I think.

  The wind picks up as the darkness lifts, like someone’s fast-forwarded to sunrise. It’s dawn and the gusts settle. My little friend buries his face deeper into my hoodie. He won’t even look?

  I gulp. What’s coming?

  Sunlight peeks over the horizon and a man in a golden breastplate, looking like an older version of Aasim, storms past us thrashing his hands.

  An Elder?

  With each swipe of his arm, trees are uprooted and flung through the air, out of his way in a blur of black and green. The ground trembles as a trunk rips from the earth, leaving a giant crater in its wake.

  I gasp and the man turns and stares right at me.

  I take several shaky steps backward.

  He still comes.

  H-he sees me? And hears me?

  I shove Little Man completely behind me when the Elder raises his hands like he’s pulling down the very sky from overhead. Light dims and a loud clap rips through the air. He mutters something I can’t understand
and fear pricks my insides like daggers.

  I want to run, to move. But I’m stuck, frozen a few feet from him.

  The Elder stares, but instead of malice in his gaze… there’s… is that… fear? He panics, and I tremble too. “I c-can feel it,” I say to Little Man, but he keeps his face tucked away. I can feel what the Elder’s feeling. Fear, worry, pain.

  He clenches his jaw and pulls harder. The sky blackens like an afternoon storm. Violent. Dark. Sudden. Cold rain pelts down on me, thumping on my head. Malice fills his eyes.

  He’s going to attack me.

  L-like I’m the—

  My throat constricts. I’m the enemy in this vision? Oh my god, I am. I’m the enemy here. Th-the Elder wants me to feel what he felt. He’s showing me… letting me see for myself what it was like when the Chancellor came for them. When he fled for his life.

  A young child cries in the distance and the Elder flinches. Aasim? I-it’s Aasim. The Elder’s hands twitch and the weight of his sadness pangs through me.

  He has to decide: Go for the baby or fight the enemy?

  As if he can read my mind, he twists in the air and thrusts at us. I brace for the blow, holding Little Man tight behind me.

  Something slams into my chest and I fly backward, hitting the ground with a thud.

  I’m panting and Jhamal stands over me.

  “My Queen? Are you okay?”

  “The boy… I…”

  “What boy?”

  “I have to… he…” I pat the ground and realize I’m back in the pit. My next breath comes a little easier. I’m back on the cliff with Jhamal; dying flames crackle around us now. My clothes are wet… like rain-soaked, wet.

  I’m okay. It’s okay. It’s over. The dream or vision or whatever it was is over.

  “Did you feel them? The Ancestors?” he asks again.

  “Y-yes, I-I can feel them,” I say to Jhamal.

  And they can feel me.

  I dust myself off. “I-I saw them. O-or was with them… o-or I was them. I don’t know.”

  “Saw who?”

  “The Elder? H-he could uproot trees, warp the sky, command the rain, move the air like ripples of water. He shoved them at me.”

  I sound delusional. This sounds completely delusional.

  Jhamal smiles and our fingers brush each other again. This time we hold them there.

  “That sort of magic hasn’t been seen in my lifetime,” he says, his breath so close it’s warm on my ear. “But, yes, my Queen—that is the sort of power our people used to have.”

  I don’t have words.

  To hear it is one thing. But to see a single man move the earth with a slight movement of his hands. To watch him choose to fight, but know it ended in his death. I graze Jhamal’s arm; its warmth draws me to him.

  “It’s so terrible. All of it is so terrible. I’m so sorry.” Thoughts race in my head, but shouts from beyond the fire snatch me away from the edge I’m teetering on—the edge of freaking TF out.

  “Rue!”

  I yelp.

  Aasim’s running full speed toward me. Jhamal throws sand on the fire and we dash toward him.

  “Been looking all over for you.” Aasim does a double take from me to Jhamal and back to me.

  “You scared the mess out of me,” I say. “What’s up?”

  Aasim’s stare is laced with worry.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Bri’s here.”

  Over Aasim’s shoulder in the distance is a narrow, fair-skinned figure also running toward us, waving her arms. I push past him, eager to hug my girl, but angst is all over her face.

  Something’s up. “What happened?”

  She catches up to us, out of breath. “I-I wanted to synthesize a satellite signal with the hologram feature on my watch and try to connect it to a cell phone. A long shot but…”

  “Bri, English.”

  “I tried to reach Tasha on the way here to see if it’d even work.” She fidgets. Aasim paces in the backdrop.

  “And?”

  “Rue, there’s been another shooting in East Row.”

  CHAPTER 29

  BACK INSIDE MY CHAKUSA, Tasha’s face flickers into view, the hologram hovering there above my watch.

  “Tasha,” I say. Her mouth is moving but the image comes and goes, glitching.

  “Can you hear me?” Her voice comes through choppy.

  “It’s connected securely,” Bri says, tapping a giant screen on her lap. “I can’t see her, but you should be able to. Hold on… two more seconds… annnnnd now. She should be able to hear you.”

  The image sharpens and Tasha’s face comes through clearer. Her cheeks are puffed, eyelashes wet. “Rue?”

  Just hearing her voice is like wedging a dagger into an open wound. The necklace sits on her neck and my pulse ticks a little slower.

  “T, you okay?” I reach for her face, but my fingers flutter through the orangey hue. My heart sinks. I wish she was here.

  “I’m okay, but Demarcus…” Her voice trails off. Demarcus is like a nephew to Ms. Leola. The same Demarcus who comes around from time to time with Julius to help her around the house. He worked at Ole Man Stan’s Meat Market and went to college at night.

  “How’s Ms. Leola doing?” I ask.

  Tasha glances over her shoulder. “She’s okay I guess. Just trying to get in touch with her sister. She’s working on a few cakes to take over there this evening.” Body ain’t even cold and Ms. Leola already cooking up love in the midst of her own pain.

  “Hug her real tight for me, T.”

  She nods, smoothing a tear from her cheek.

  “Did the cops have any more information?”

  “Nah,” she says. “They didn’t even come tell us. We found out on the news. They saying he might have been mixed up in drugs.”

  Bullshit, not Demarcus. That’s, like, their default excuse.

  “They blaming Litto’s crew. The mayor put a curfew in effect. It’s bad, Rue.”

  My nails dig into my palm until it bleeds.

  Multiple shootings, robberies, every other week. The cop’s words from the alleyway swirl in my memory. It’s not safe out here—worse than I’ve ever seen it.

  “Isn’t Litto’s crew the same people you went looking into at the tattoo shop?”

  “Don’t you worry about that. I got caught up here trying to figure out something… it’s… I’ve almost got it figured out. I’ll be home real soon.”

  She nods and silence hangs between us. There aren’t words that feel right to fill the space. But the thought of ending the call makes my knees shake. So we just hold the call. She seems older somehow in these last few days. Like we’ve lived years in the span of a week. Holding her here, where I can see her, makes me feel like she’s safer somehow.

  The image of her head flickers. “T, you still there?” I glance at Bri, studying her flat glass screen. She gives me a thumbs-up. The image stutters back into view. “Don’t take that necklace off, sis. Not even when you wash your butt.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” She laughs, her voice boxy from the connection. “I like wearing it, kinda feels like Mama is watching over me.” She strokes the thin golden chain at her neck.

  “Give Aunt Bertha and them my love.”

  “Okay.”

  “And no leaving the house. Get the damned groceries delivered, something. I’ll pay you back for it. Just keep yo behind inside.”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.”

  “I will see you soon, T.”

  “Please just get back here. I feel safer when you’re close.”

  “Me too.”

  “See you soon,” she says.

  Bri gives me a raised brow, asking if the call is done. I nod yes, and blow a kiss at Tasha’s fading face.

  Bri’s hand warms my back and I flinch.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah.” A lie. I picture my fist kissing the General’s face. But I will be.

  I kicked Aasim out of
the hut for some privacy for the call to Tasha. Truth be told, after the call, I wanted to break the news to Bri first about everything I’m about to tell her. Not because I have to, but because it seems like the kind thing to do, considering how tight we’ve been. Bri has no idea the truth she walked into. And for her sake, for our friendship’s sake, I hope she came here with eyes wide open.

  “You’re pacing,” she says, setting her screen aside. “You’re obviously not okay. Rue, talk to me.”

  I’m going to. But where to start?

  “I’m sorry about Demarcus.” She’s standing up now, the lightness gone from her voice.

  I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to throw away a year of friendship. But if she can’t see how fucked up this is, can we even really be friends?

  “Please?” She steps to me, bright green eyes behind those red-rimmed glasses. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

  I still my shaking hands and scoop up the cuffs.

  “Rue?” Her voice is strained.

  Stop putting it off. Talk. “Bri, what did you see when you came through Yiyo Peak?”

  “Huh?” Her brows cinch. “Is that a real question?”

  “Real as a heartbeat, yep.”

  “Okay, uhm, let’s see.” She chews her lip. “I saw piles and piles of onyx. Then Aasim took me through this long, caved-in tunnel to a wall, which we walked through. Somehow! And it opened up to more mountain. There were tables and chairs. Uhhmm, what else…?” She glances around the room. “That’s pretty much it. Aasim didn’t let me stop and sightsee. He just took me through the mountain and out back here.”

  So Bati and everyone are tucked away? They really don’t trust anyone from the District.

  “So you didn’t see anyone? Not a single person?”

  “No, why? What am I missing? Just tell me.”

  “There’s an entire people living in secret here, Bri.”

  The lines on her brow deepen.

  I slip the cuffs on to keep my hands busy. “An entire tribe of magical people who look like me.”

  She shakes her head no, like what I’m saying don’t make sense.

  “And no one here has onyx bound to their wrists. None have the ‘great Chancellor’s gift.’ ” I use air quotes on that last part.