LegionBorn

by F. F. John

  She was gripping her right hand, her face contorted in pain.

  “What’s wrong, Gladys?” My feet stalled when she set her gaze on me and her eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t interpret.

  She thrust her chin at me. “What is that?”

  I looked around me in hopes of finding whatever offended her. “What are you talking about?”

  “That thing around your neck!”

  My hand closed around the cool metal. “This?” I asked. Why would a necklace bother her? “It’s nothing,” I said, eager to get back to what we were doing. “I got it from a lady— “

  “What lady?” Her voice slashed with anger.

  My brows furrowed. “Why are you so upset?”

  After a beat, she gave me a false smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Oh, I…I,” she studied her hand briefly before lifting her gaze, “I scratched my hand on the metal is all,” she said, taking a tentative step toward me.

  I could tell she was lying. But why? I was rubbing my head when it clicked, and I snapped my fingers. The necklace. Layla told me it would protect me. Since wearing it, I hadn’t had any scary encounters. It must have done something to Gladys. Something it was supposed to do.

  My mouth dried. Was Gladys a netherworld creature? I studied her from head to toe. Her porcelain skin called out to me. That and the lace that covered the parts of her I had wanted to get to.

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  Her head dipped to examine her hand before glancing at me. “I’m going to be just fine.” She’d forced a syrupy sincerity into her tone that put me further on alert. “Why don’t you take that thing off for me, will you?” She took another step in my direction.

  She had to be one of them. A serpenti, a zwart, a demon spawn or some other netherworld type. I thought I’d only have to deal with them in D.C., but it appeared these creatures had somehow followed me to Africa. I wasn’t safe anywhere. With or without this gaudy necklace.

  Now, I scurried away from her. “You’re some sort of creature, aren’t you?”

  “What are you talking about, Vaughn?” Her smile took on a saccharine quality.

  She was advancing on me when I said, “You’re from the netherworld.”

  “‘The netherworld,’” She echoed with a lilting chortle and let go of her hurt hand. Previously pale, it had become soot-black. She watched me stare at her hand and laughed some more. “Yes, I’m from the netherworld.”

  “What are you?” My voice quivered. Not my proudest moment but if I got out of this alive, I’d forgive myself for sounding like a punk.

  “If you must know, I’m an imagen.”

  “A…a.” I swallowed. “An…an imagen?” Layla never mentioned imagens to me but that didn’t make me less afraid. With each step, her hips swung suggestively. As did her breasts. They momentarily dragged my attention from her face to her chest.

  Are you nuts? She’ll kill you! Focus! My gaze snapped to her face and she stopped. She tilted her head to the side, giving me a sly smirk.

  “The necklace, Vaughn. Now!”

  I stuffed my hands into my pockets and shook my head. “What do you want from me?” This time, my voice stayed firm even though a cold wave tensed my muscles. If I was going to die, I might as well learn why.

  “I don’t want anything from you, but I hear Cipher has a price on your head and I’d like to collect.”

  “Cipher?”

  “Lucifer.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s what he likes to be called.”

  My eyes widened. It’s not something I would allow in my professional life—physically react to something said—but holy hell! Lucifer?

  “As in, from the Bible? That Lucifer?”

  She hissed like a feral cat and spit onto the cream carpet. Steam rose from the spot where her saliva landed.

  “A stupid book written by stupid men who told the world it meant much more than it ever did.” She put her hands on her hips. The black was creeping higher on her arm and was almost past her elbow. As I looked closer, I realized smoke swirled where the black was. “Still, yes. I’m talking about that Lucifer.”

  My chest felt like it would explode, and I retreated until my back slammed into the wall. Why would Lucifer want anything to do with me?

  I shook my head. “That can’t be true and if so, what in the hell,”—I paused. Perhaps it was best to avoid using that term anymore, I told myself. Better to be safe than sorry— “would he want with me?”

  “I don’t know why but you just be a good boy and take that necklace off, so we can finish what we started.” Her voice flattened and some of her skin rotted before my eyes. My legs weakened at the sight of bone.

  “You want the necklace?” I wrapped my fingers around the clasp and loosened it from my neck. “Then you can have it!” She was only inches away from me when I flung it at her face.

  A burst of red light made me squint. When the light dimmed, Gladys wasn’t Gladys anymore. All her flesh had blackened, and her face was in her hands as she screamed. The sound sent vibrations into my bones. Bits of skin sagged, and holes revealed her insides enough to make me want to hurl.

  She was still wailing when I spotted the necklace on the carpet to her right. I grabbed it and ran to the door. Then, I paused.

  I don’t know what made me stop in my tracks. I wheeled around and walked back to where Gladys—or whatever her real name was—crouched on the carpet. I touched the necklace to her skin and her shrieking grew louder right before she smacked me away from her. That’s when I saw her face. Or what was left of it. Flesh fell off her skull like well-cooked meat sliding from a bone.

  Disgust cloyed up my throat. She shoved me with steaming hot hands and I dropped to one knee. Still, curiosity got its way as I slapped the necklace on her leg. I needed to see what the trinket could do.

  She bellowed again, and it sounded like a shriek from the pit of hell. I shuddered but continued, placing the necklace to the very hand that smacked at me. She tried to move her hand, but I kept the metal flush on her ‘skin’. Her mouth slid open, but no sound came out. There was a surge of heat radiating from her and it grew with each passing second until what was once Gladys erupted into a puff of smoke.

  My eyes remained glued to the spot where she once was and as my adrenaline waned, fatigue took over. I collapsed, watching the gray ash on the cream carpet that was all that remained of my guest-turned-attacker. I crawled over to the phone by my bed and lifted the handle.

  “Hello?” I croaked into the receiver. “I need to change rooms. This one’s quite dusty.”

  --VI--

  THE NEXT MORNING, LAYLA’S NECKLACE was firmly around my neck when Watson and I arrived at Raebon Corporation’s headquarters. I had never been one to wear jewelry but, Layla’s necklace would not be coming off if I had anything to say about it.

  My mind constantly strayed to Gladys and her demise. I kept seeing what was left of her face before she turned to dust. I also couldn’t erase the things she said from memory.

  Lucifer wanted me dead. And I didn’t know why.

  With a deep breath, I tamped down on my lingering thoughts and shook hands with a couple high-level employees when we got to a well-appointed conference room. The walls were nothing but glass and at least a dozen executive chairs surrounded a gleaming mahogany table. After a few more pleasantries and a cup of piping hot coffee, it was time to pitch Cunningham, Trotter & Severn.

  I stood at the head of the conference table doing my thing and got the seven men and four women before me nodding in agreement with almost everything I said. As for Watson, I knew his crisp nodding came from lawyer 101—always appear to agree with whatever your co-counsel says. If you looked like a team and acted like a team, you’d be more convincing.

  Watson and I fielded some questions, and we soon took a break for lunch. Looking at my watch I was shocked at how much time had passed. It was already noon. The entire group moved to a nearby room where some lean men wheeled in an ar
ray of food and set up by a window overlooking downtown Abuja.

  Standing in line by the buffet table, one of the executives struck up a conversation with me. Our discussion went from business to pleasure when she said, “You must not be married, you’re too skinny. Have some more rice.”

  She piled more of an orange-colored rice onto my plate and proclaimed it the best in the world. Another executive, Christian, huffed in agreement, saying, “Abasi, something tells me you have a wife in mind for him already.” The entire room chuckled. I swallowed, hoping Abasi and Christian weren’t serious. I wasn’t looking for a wife and after my incident with Gladys, it would be awhile before I’d be alone with any strange women.

  “Yes!” Abasi smiled. “I definitely know a girl that can put some meat on his bones.” I took my plate to one of the round tables and sat next to Watson who was deep in quiet conversation with another lady.

  More sputtering proceeded Christian saying, “Listen to me.” His smile widened. “If she’s a Calabar girl, you’re in big trouble.”

  All around the room, people snickered. Since I wasn’t in on the joke and didn’t care to be, I shoved some rice into my mouth. It was spicy but good, and I quickly had some more.

  From another table, Abasi said with a smile, “See, Vaughn? I told you jollof rice is the best. If you marry a Nigerian girl, she’ll cook it for you all the time.”

  I made some appropriate noises while focusing on my food. I was making progress and staying out of the conversation when someone clapped me on the shoulder and I yelped. It was a man in a charcoal-gray blazer whose name I didn’t recall. His lips pinched as he towered over me.

  “Are you enjoying your food?” His muffled voice hinted at some discomfort though his face didn’t show it.

  Swallowing, I replied, “Absolutely. Thank you.”

  “Very good.” He moved on to another table, passing the empty chair on my left.

  I got the distinct impression he’d wanted to join our table but decided against it. My thoughts on the topic went no further as Christian chose that moment to shout across the room why Calabar women are some of the best cooks and lovers in Nigeria. Wow, that conversation turned inappropriate very quickly!

  Shifting to take in the rest of the room, I saw the man who’d asked if I was enjoying my meal. He was seated at a table with another man and a woman. He’d removed his blazer and rolled up his white sleeves. He leaned into the table and gesticulated dramatically to his listeners. There was a sense of urgency in his gestures. I was still watching when all three people at that table looked at me with expressions I couldn’t interpret.

  The sole woman at the table had on a bubblegum pink dress. Her scowl didn’t match the playful color. Perhaps they blamed me for the abrupt change in the discussion? A cheerful laugh from Watson drew my attention to his conversation. My mind swayed to the remaining part of the pitch I had to make to all these people. Pushing aside the unpleasant looks, I refocused on what was important. I needed to land this client.

  ***

  Back in the conference room, I continued my prepared speech and told the executives how much money they’d save working with my firm. Watson chimed in to answer some questions and things went smoothly until I looked at the man who’d clapped my shoulder during lunch. He was increasingly restless. His complexion had an ashen pallor, and he was scratching at his arm. His friend in pink was seated across from him with a look of concern on her features.

  Ignoring them, I carried on but was interrupted mid-sentence by Christian who asked whether the firm would open a satellite office in Abuja. Watson answered that it was possible only for Abasi to demand I be stationed there. “That will make it easier to find him a suitable wife,” she joked to snickers.

  While heat flooded the tips of my ears, I looked away from Abasi and the others laughing at my expense. Unfortunately, my gaze shifted to Ms. Bubblegum Pink. She glowered at me once more, but this time, her appearance had changed. The skin on her face had scales.

  Unable to stop myself, I stumbled back from the podium I was leaning on, eyes swiveling to the other side of the table. As I feared, the man in the charcoal-gray blazer also had scales on his face and neck. His eyes had become slits and a long tongue darted out of his lips with a muted hiss.

  Not again.

  I squeezed my eyes shut but the man still looked like a snake when I glanced his way. Serpenti. I rubbed my eyes before looking at the lady. She was as well. The rest of the room yapped away with no idea that monsters sat in their midst.

  A third man directly across from me at the end of the table rose to his feet. He’d been seated with the man in the charcoal gray suit and Ms. Bubblegum Pink. He was in a black suit and as he stood his tongue slithered in and out of his mouth.

  All I could do was stare. Layla’s necklace was supposed to keep me safe. I felt anything but. Returning to the podium, I gripped the surface’s edge only for my hands to slip off as moisture built on my palms.

  Both serpenti rose from their seats, staring intently at me. I felt the perspiration spring at my armpits and on my forehead. It was time to get out of the conference room.

  “Vaughn?” My name sounded hollow to my ears.

  Another man stood. Also, serpenti. His eyes became a disturbing red that made my chest tighten. Seated by the door, my exit options were to walk past him or go out through the glass window showing Abuja’s skyline. We were at least eight floors up and I would have to not only break the glass but fall several flights to escape. I didn’t think the necklace would protect me from the impact. It could hardly keep these monsters from finding me!

  “Vaughn!” Watson’s voice cut through my panicked inner ramblings.

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Ah … yes?”

  “I’ve been calling you for a while now.” Not good. “Are you okay?”

  “I-I…um…”

  “Why don’t you take a break, I’ve got it from here,” Watson said rising out of his seat. He walked over to me and spoke quietly, “Have the car take you to the hotel. You look like shit.”

  He didn’t need to say anything else as I almost ran to the door. I was careful to stay as far away from the serpenti, practically sliding along the wall to exit.

  “Mr. Kevin, is your boy okay?” one of the male executives breathed out. Watson said something about jet lag. Christian told Abasi to find my wife now as I needed what he deemed to be dire attention.

  She responded, “If he can’t handle jollof rice, how will he handle a Nigerian wife?”

  The room was chuckling when the door closed behind me with a soft click and I took a deep breath. I shuffled to the elevator and went down to the lobby. I took deep breaths in the cool, air-conditioning and tried to regain my composure. Behind me, the elevator dinged, and the doors whooshed open. I swiveled to see none other than the man in the black suit and he still looked very much like a serpenti.

  My feet raced on their own accord and I stumbled outside into the dry heat. My hand went to the necklace. Please keep me safe. Please keep me safe, I chanted repeatedly as I ran away.

  “Come back here!” The serpenti shouted with a gravelly voice while I scanned the horizon for the driver and his car. Where did he park? If I knew I could simply run to the parking lot just a few meters away. I struggled to find a solution. How would I escape the serpenti’s clutches?

  Just then, a black sedan screeched to a halt in front of me. “Sir. Were you looking for me?” A man called out through the rolled down window.

  Not bothering to verify he was my driver, I bundled into the backseat and yelled, “Go, go, go!”

  The urgency in my voice did the trick, he hit the gas. Screaming rubber tires left trails of smoke in our wake. When I looked out the back window, the man in black was running behind us. He quit his chase after falling far behind, hands at his waist and a dark look on his face.

  --VII--

  MY HEAD SWIVELED THE ENTIRE car ride as I checked for where the next monster would come from. I al
so kept a close eye on Emmanuel, the driver. He confirmed he was indeed the one who brought ‘Oga Watson’— ‘Oga’ being a local equivalent for sir—and I to Raebon Corporation’s headquarters this morning.

  He must have sensed my discomfort because he filled the trip with explanations of Nigerian culture and slang. Although I was too paranoid to engage, a part of me appreciated his effort to help me relax. The tiny part that wasn’t drowning in fear.

  There was no sense of relief when I got to the hotel as I watched for anything out of the ordinary. Layla had said Nigeria was full of demon spawn and I’d dismissed her negativity as a bias against Nigerians. Forget that! I’d bumped into four in less than twenty-four hours. It only confirmed the card reader’s warning.

  What would have happened if one of those serpenti had caught me? Gladys had said something about Lucifer wanting me last night. My heart paced at the possibility of being captured and delivered to the king of hell. Try as I did to convince myself that I was in a bad dream, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things would never go back to normal. I’d seen too much. Still, I told myself to go lie down in my room. Maybe, just maybe, I’d at least wake up feeling more centered and at the next meeting with the client, I would be able to perform to the best of my abilities.