Loosening the laces on his boots, he stomped to the rear of the car. Lifting and kicking out each leg, he hurled his boots into the trunk, sending them crashing into the wall. His chest burned with the Georgia heat and words unspoken. He shakily grabbed his running shoes, slipping them on, pulling the strings taut. Adrenaline coursed through his veins.
He silently cursed, stood up and gripped the side of his head to stop the ringing in his ears. The June humidity threatened to take his breath away. He huffed, slamming the trunk.
Yup, he needed to go for a run.
He tapped with one knuckle. “Be back.”
Rashad rolled down the window, and a blast of cool air hit Deacon.
“You want me to come?” Rashad scrutinized him.
“Naw. Need a minute.” Deacon lifted his knees, then hopped up and down like a boxer, clenching his fists open and closed. He really wanted to explode.
“Alright then.” Rashad rolled up his window and went back to scrolling through his phone.
Deacon tromped up the trail and took off. The wind whipped him in the face as his heart rate sped. He went up and down hills. He pounded the pavement hard. His breath burned from the breakneck speed. He had to get these emotions off of him. He ground his teeth, his throat tight with anger. He wanted to kill somebody. He needed to unleash his anger. Could he tell Shania how he felt? What good would that do? The poor woman had been attacked. She was devastated.
He had a vision of her clutching that box. She was on the edge. Ready to snap. Their child had been kidnapped. Our daughter!
Deacon pushed his legs faster.
Then, the death of her grandmother. Deacon remembered Shania’s grandmother as having always treated him kindly and with respect. He actually adored Nanabaa, too. She’d been so different from his own grandmother who was mostly filled with hatred. Deacon enjoyed spending time at Shania’s home when they were young. Her grandmother would feed him and give him warm hugs. He was hurt that she was gone.
Deacon knew Shania’s grandmother was her rock. He didn’t know how she would survive the death. He’d have to support Shania even more now. So mad at her!
Deacon slowed his pace. Sweat drenched his body. He’d made it the five miles around the park. His car was near. He still didn’t want to talk, so he found a table and plopped down on the top. He took some deep breaths and held his head up to the sky. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs; instead, he allowed the sweat to drip down his face.
The air thickened.
A sizzling sound popped in Deacon’s ears. He plugged them until the sensation stopped.
His godbrotherꞌs voice crackled from behind him. Deacon craned his head back and forth. Rashad?
But wasn’t Rashad sitting in the car? Hallucination? This other Rashad was older, slightly different with gray sideburns. He carried a long staff with a double ax on top.
“A war is coming,” older Rashad said. “You must be prepared.”
Deacon rubbed his eyes and reached out to touch his brother. Real or premonition?
He was real. Deacon shrank back.
“How?” he asked.
Rashad’s eyes swirled with a soulful sage look. “Time traveler, but it’s not time for you to learn that—yet.”
Deacon sat stunned.
Older Rashad shimmered. He touched Deacon’s forehead. “Remember only what’s necessary to help you heal.”
Deacon focused on the grief. “I’m angry. I can’t forgive her.”
Futuristic Rashad smiled. “But…you already have.”
Deacon tried to block him out. He didn’t want to listen. He wanted to wallow in his thoughts. He wanted to be lost.
“What Shania did was what she must. It’s not for you to judge.” Rashad had a bright aura around his body. His staff hummed with power.
Deacon gritted his teeth. “She concealed the birth of my child and left me.”
Older Rashad’s voice boomed. “I have never led you astray. This woman is your heart—your mate. You must keep her safe. You must keep her protected. You must work with her to save your daughter from an ancient evil.”
Deacon sat up and rested his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Was he nuts? He’d done everything he could. The sheriff’s department issued an Amber Alert. What else could he do?
“You must help Shania open the box. You have the key. Inside your memory, search what you know. Where did you hide it?”
Older Rashad tapped the bottom of his long staff on the ground; the double ax glowed with little symbols. Adinkra symbols. Wait, how’d he know that?
One of the symbols floated toward Deacon and landed in his open hand. Deacon studied the symbol.
“Which one is this?” he asked.
The air warmed as futuristic Rashad receded into a swirl of light. “Sankofa. Remember to go back and get it.”
The man’s voice lingered.
Deacon closed his hand around the Sankofa symbol as it disintegrated and went inside his memories from ten years before.
Vague and confusing. Hard to pin down.
He remembered feeling excited about Shania being pregnant. They were young and in love. Seniors in high school, about to graduate. He didn’t care. Shania was the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. He did what he had to do. He used the money from his job at the mall to buy Shania a ring. After graduation, he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him.
She seemed happy. She said yes.
Shania didn’t have money for his wedding ring, but she’d given him a key, for remembrance. She placed it around his neck.
They went to tell his grandmother later. She was outraged.
“You stupid, stupid boy,” she said. “You can’t marry a Negress. Your life will be ruined.”
Deacon had become a man. He told his grandmother it wasn’t her choice.
“Marry a white girl and have white children. Boy, it’s your destiny. Your birthright. How can you turn your back on our family’s legacy!” his grandmother’s voice screeched.
He’d never seen her so venomous, so racist.
“That nigger bitch will bring you nothin’ but grief! She’ll be the death of you!”
Deacon gripped Shania’s hand and turned away from his grandmother.
She sneered, screaming. “If you marry her, you’ll never see a dime of your inheritance!”
He’d made his choice, leaving his grandmother standing in her intolerance and racism.
When they were alone, Deacon could see the hurt in Shania’s eyes. He told her he didn’t care about his grandmother’s problem. He loved her with all of his heart.
They made tender love.
They were eighteen. He agreed to meet her at the Justice of the Peace.
He’d dressed himself up in his best suit. Called Rashad to be his best man.
They were going to do this.
When he got there, Shania left that letter. She said she couldn’t go through with it—that this would ruin their lives. She told him he should go to college and make something of himself. The letter ended with she’d aborted the baby. Deacon remembered the strain. He almost lost it. He tried to look for her. He went to her grandmother’s house, but they’d left. Shania just disappeared.
Then he recalled the key inside the envelope. She’d told him to keep the key safe. Something he could always remember her by. Deacon didn’t know what to do. He balled up the letter and threw it all in the garbage, but then returned to get the key. He had it in his hand then, but where was it today?
An image of his grandmother’s satisfied face and open hand. He hesitated. He didn’t want to give it to her. Had he willingly given the key to his grandmother?
He pushed his memory. Blocked.
“D, you okay?” Rashad stood in front of him. “Man, I don’t know what to say. Just wanted you to know that I got your back.”
Deacon took a deep breath. His life was getting strange.
He raked his hands through his hair. “I know, bro, I know.”<
br />
Deacon stared at Rashad. A premonition of him and Rashad as old men illuminated and went dim.
The key twirled inside his mind’s eye. Where’s that key?
EPILOGUE
Shania
Shania’s limbs shook as she clutched her grandmother’s box to her chest. The warmth of the box brought her comfort. Sweat rolled down her back. She had an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She was thankful that Maddy picked her up from the sheriff’s, but her mind raced. She kept overthinking her decision to ride with the female sheriff. Why had she ignored her intuition? Now her baby was gone.
“Shay, you need anything? Green tea? Water?” Maddy’s consoling manner made her want to break down. Usually, her best friend reduced her stress by making her laugh, but today, Shania was lost.
“No-no. I’m just fine.” She swallowed trying to hide her dry mouth.
Sankofa... The woman warrior spoke softly inside her mind.
Maddy’s eyes came alive, and her body glowed. A red dragon with a fan at the end of the tail flitted across Shania’s mind. What was that? Another repressed memory?
Maddy, next to her, battling one of those vampire-like creatures. Using the dragon fire of her Vietnamese ancestor and the thunder elemental magic of the African goddess, Mawu.
Shania bit down on her lip. But Maddy seems to have lost her memories, too.
Shania took a sudden breath. She grasped her grandmother’s box tighter. Her stomach in knots. Shaking.
Maddy continued to study her.
“What can I do to help?” Maddy reached out to hug Shania.
Shania withered, dropping her gaze.
Maddy pulled back. “Sit down on the couch. I’ll get you a cool glass of water. Georgia is hot.”
Maddy disappeared into the kitchen. When the kitchen door swung open, the smells of delicious food assaulted her. Shania knew her friend had been nervous about the situation and had probably cooked up a storm.
Maddy’s vegetarian spring rolls called her name. Shania’s stomach growled, but she clamped down and ignored the hunger. Usually, she would relish her friend’s cooking. Maddy’s Asian and Black infusion restaurant was a big hit in Atlanta. But now Shania refused to eat anything.
She plopped down on the huge couch. Normally, she would curl up and relax, but she sat ramrod straight, bit her lip and bounced her knee up and down. Her mind played the day’s events. Those crazy men killing the gas station attendant and attacking her car. Deacon showing up at the gas station. Her daughter’s abduction by her ex. Her hands became hot and sweaty. She wiped them, and the movement caused her grandmother’s box to slide off her lap. She scrambled to pull it close to her again.
“Here, drink up.”
Shania jumped with Maddy so close. She was so far into her thoughts, she hadn’t heard her friend.
Her hands trembled, but she took the glass, sipping a little and handing it back.
“Thanks.” She cleared her throat.
Maddy tried to be helpful “How about a shower or—”
“No. No, thank you. I don’t need anything.” Shania’s words fired rapidly. She took quick breaths. Her fingers and toes tingled. She wanted to throw up. Negative ideas turning over and over inside her brain.
Shania desperately needed to gather her thoughts, but her thoughts kept returning to the attack. She couldn’t stop shaking. She scanned Maddy’s home looking for exits.
Maddy reached to hug her, again, but Shania jumped.
“Please, I just need a minute. Is there a restroom?” Shania squeaked. If Maddy didn’t stop, Shania would lose it, and she had to keep it together for her child. Maddy pointed, and Shania took off, cradling her grandmother’s box under her arm.
Breathe! She told herself as she slammed the door to the restroom. She bent over. Lydia is gone!
Heartbeat hammering in her ears. Corbin took my child!
She slid down on the floor, releasing her grandmother’s box. The deep sobs would not stop.
She propped her back against the door and pulled her knees into her chest, allowing the sobs to escape until her stomach rolled. She crawled over to the toilet, lifted the lid and threw up until she reached dry heaves.
I made so many poor choices! I gave up the love and my life—for what? She couldn’t stop shuddering. Will Deacon forgive me?
Maddy burst into the restroom and grabbed Shania in a huge hug. “Lydia will come back to us; I promise.”
Shania collapsed into her friend’s shoulder and allowed the broken sobs to flow.
God, please save my child!
The End
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A Note from Alicia McCalla
If you enjoyed reading this episode, Rise of an African Elemental: A Dark Fantasy Novel(4), I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.
Lend it. This e-book is lending-enabled, so please, share it with a friend.
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Discussion Questions
Is Shania too weak to be able to become a warrior? Can a domestic violence victim become a warrior?
Is Corbin a “classic abuser” or is his behavior “excusable” because of the history of abuse? Is Corbin a victim of circumstance i.e. nature vs. nurture?
Compare and contrast the men in this series. Where do they stand in the discussion about the cost of black women’s and girls’ lives?
Compare and contrast mothers in this series. Where do they stand in the discussion about the cost of black women’s and girl’s lives?
Who’s the true villain or antagonist of this story? Why?
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Mark of an African Elemental: A Dark Fantasy Novel
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About the Author
Alicia McCalla is a native of Detroit, Michigan, who currently resides in Atlanta, Georgia. She works as a school librarian and enjoys traveling as well as spending time with her husband and son. Visit Alicia at: www.aliciamccalla.com to sign-up for freebies, e-updates, giveaways, and sneak peeks of her upcoming novels.
Rise of an African Elemental: A Dark Fantasy Novel (African Elementals Book 4) Page 12