by A. D. Koboah
“I’ll be right back with that coffee, Avery.”
I left the room. I heard the beep of his cell phone when I was halfway down the stairs and assumed he was making a call to someone. All I could think of was that moment in his arms and that heat between us that made me feel as if I were being welded to him. I took a moment to still the fluttering in my chest before I moved on.
I returned to find Avery standing at the foot of the bed before a wooden box. His face was drawn and that dread was still in his eyes. One of the swords that usually hung above the fireplace in the drawing room was in his hand. He sheathed the sword and placed it next to the wooden box before he reached inside it and pulled out some silver knives.
“Where are you going, Avery?”
“I have to find a way to stop it. I can’t just sit here and let it...”
His voice trailed away and he just stared ahead, his face creasing in anguish.
“But how?” I asked.
“There might be someone who knows what this thing is. My maker, Auria, was the one who summoned the chapel entity. Her—”
“Auria? Are you crazy? She’ll kill you after what you did!”
He faced me, his eyes dark with confusion.
“How do you know about Auria?”
The breath caught in my throat for a few seconds, but I spoke before the confusion in Avery’s eyes could deepen.
“The same way I’ve always known things.”
His attention returned to the box.
What I had told him was a lie. It wasn’t my sixth sense that had told me about Auria, his maker, as it usually only gave me incomplete fragments of a picture. What I knew about Auria felt as if it had always been there. A whisper I only had to turn to in order to hear. I knew it all, the things she had done to him and that he had tried to kill her. Thinking about it was like walking along a well-trodden path—like reflecting on the memory of numerous conversations I’d had on the matter; conversations which could only have been had with Avery.
The revelation made me feel as if all air had been sucked out of the room, but I had to put it out of my mind because Avery was still intending on finding Auria, who would surely kill him.
“Avery, you can’t go and find Auria.”
“She’s not the one I need to find. Her son Arnaldo is. I’m meeting another vampire who may be able to tell me where I can find him.”
“I have to go with you.”
“No!” he said a little too loudly, turning to face me. “No. I don’t know if this person can be trusted or what I’ll face once I get there.”
“This guy Alfonso—”
“Arnaldo.”
“Arnaldo, he won’t tell you anything. But he’ll tell me.”
That knowledge had come from my sixth sense.
Avery frowned at me. He was silent for the longest moment, then he nodded.
“Okay,” he said.
He stared at me for a few seconds and I could not decipher anything from his expression or his mind, which was shut tight against me once more.
I moved to him with the cup of coffee.
“It’s going to be light soon, so we’ll go and meet this guy at dusk. Now drink your coffee.”
He nodded and took the cup of coffee from me. He stared at it for a few seconds, a faint, wry smile on his lips. It disappeared as despair welled up in his eyes once again. He sat down on the bed and drank the coffee, not uttering a word of complaint about how terrible it was.
He didn’t protest when I again slept in his room that day. Jessica’s death still weighed heavily on me and I did not want to be alone. I guessed he didn’t either. When I fell asleep the dream was waiting for me.
Chapter 13
Akan
The rest of that long, brooding day saw Akan either pacing in the compound outside his home or in the woods beyond the walled village, gazing up at the benevolent screening of tree branches above, dread’s soulless caress upon him.
In the reverent silence that sometimes settled on the woods at that hour, he thought about the child alone in the temple but for the sombre attendants, her smile when he presented her with the wooden toy. He also thought of the bravery she had shown in refusing the sacrifice of fifty maidens.
He knew there was no way she would be able to survive the ekniwa.
The ekniwa was a sacred ritual which allowed men to enter a trance-like state where they could walk between the world of the living and the underworld and commune with hideous beasts known as the vacoma. The knowledge gained from this ritual had completely changed the lives of the Enwa. A bedraggled community of hunter gatherers vulnerable to illness and attacks from other tribes, they became prosperous within just a few short years with knowledge of the future, of medicines, new ways of farming and of how to build sturdier homes that were better able to withstand the elements. The most surprising thing the Enwa learned from the vacoma was how to find metals like gold and copper they never even knew existed.
However, the price the Enwa paid for their prosperity came at a price. The beings of the underworld, although prone to falsehoods and trickery, had related one message each time the ekniwa was performed. The sky gods were angry with the Enwa for daring to seek out the vacoma. They would allow the Enwa to be prosperous for a time, but then would come days and nights of utter darkness in which death would sweep through the village to claim the souls of its inhabitants. But the Enwa believed they could be saved. One of the deities they worshipped, the goddess of the moon, was the keeper of time. They had been told the deity would take on human form and spend most of her mortal life where the Enwa village was situated. But no one knew when she would take on human form, or even if it would occur before the Enwa were destroyed. So until Mutata returned with the false goddess the Enwa had lived surrounded by wealth and abundance, but with the cruel heel of that prophecy forever pressed against their necks, their monthly sacrifices a desperate call to the gods to spare them.
When Akan got to his home, he found his wife, Rutia, a tall, big boned woman, with slanted golden brown eyes, kept watching him. Whenever he met her gaze, she wandered away. He sighed. That woman was meddlesome at best and could read him as well as a skilled tracker could read a trail others would have thought long gone cold. She knew he was planning something. Thankfully she could have no way of knowing what it was or of how to disrupt his plans.
At sunset Akan made his way back to the temple wearing a robe over his kilt. One of the reasons he wore the robe was to spare the child the sight of his scars. It was also so he would be spared that anguished look of perceived pain that passed her face whenever her eyes came to rest on them. The night lay close and heavy and the streets were alive with the carnival atmosphere that had descended on the village since Mutata returned with the child goddess a week ago, the sacrificial stone having lain empty for that month. Torches mounted on wooden posts lit the village in an almost hellish light. Akan’s heart was heavy, the two-headed snake trembling within his chest.
The mood inside the temple was subdued compared to the carnival atmosphere on the streets. Akan noticed most of the men gathered avoided looking at the child lit in the dazzling glare of honeyed light cast by the torches surrounding the altar. The shadows that had been pushed to the edges of the temple were deeper now night had fallen. All the attendants were gathered like numerous messengers of death beneath the scouring gazes of the effigies of the sky gods. No one enjoyed the ekniwa—only Mutata, who sat with a serene smile on his lips when Akan entered, his eyes alive with malice. Akan did not fail to notice the smile that lit up the child’s face when she saw Akan. He merely kneeled before her. The snake in his chest tightened around his heart when he noticed the toy he had given her was still in her hands.
The ritual began and Akan prepared the sacred potion to the sound of songs sung by the attendants, asking for the blessings of the gods and that they take away their wrath from the Enwa. Unlike earlier in the day, the child’s eyes were not glazed over with boredom, but remained on Akan. That smile, the
one that sought his approval, on her lips. Akan’s stomach was in knots and his hands, always steady in the heat of battle, trembled like that of an old man’s. Mutata’s eyes kept returning to Akan, but his stance was relaxed. Whatever favour the child had shown Akan, and that moment of assertion which prevented the slaughter of fifty maidens, would cease to matter, probably in just a matter of days. Then he would no doubt go and find another to be his false goddess.
The moment had come for Akan to recite the last prayer over the sacred potion and present it to the goddess. He moved forward and picked up the small bowl, which was filled to the brim with the dark, thick liquid. His voice was shaky as he said the prayer, the strong smoky incense that hung in the temple like lost spirits, making him feel lightheaded. All the while the child sat only a few feet away, her small golden brown hands curled around the toy, her gaze on Akan, a smile never far away.
When Akan ended the prayer, everyone in the temple rose to their knees as was the custom, and bowed their heads to the ground, their eyes closed in deference to the sacred moment.
Silence as deep and mysterious as the bottom of a lake engulfed the temple.
This was what Akan had been waiting for. As swift as a fish darting beneath a stream, he reached between the folds of his robe and poured most of the potion into a small gourd tied to his kilt under his robe, spilling a lot of the potion over his kilt.
There was a soft smile on the child’s lips when he held out the bowl to her, placing it in her hands without touching them. Head bowed, he dared to whisper to her.
“Forgive me, Goddess but I had to give you some of it or else they would know and he would kill you.”
She merely smiled and he was not sure she had even heard the words, let alone understood their meaning. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach as he watched the child drink greedily, clearly relishing the sweet, thick liquid.
Akan began to recite another prayer which was finished by Mutata. The ritual was over and the temple began to empty of people, for once the potion was ingested, the person undergoing the ekniwa would remain in seclusion for the majority of the thirty days, only coming before the temple elders in the evenings when the potion would be ingested once again.
Akan was one of the last to exit the temple. He was at the door when he heard a strangled noise and then violent retches. He exited the temple and did not look back. Mutata was alongside him. He saw Mutata smile when the sounds of the child vomiting reached him. This was the first stage of the ekniwa. Akan followed Mutata out into the night. He moved swiftly past the dancing crowd and the empty sacrificial stone.
Tonight the streets would remain alive as the villagers continued to celebrate the coming of the divine one and her decision to undertake the ekniwa and journey between worlds to bring back secrets from the underworld. Although Akan would not be celebrating this night, he knew it would be a sleepless one.
Chapter 14
The following night found me and Avery in the Buckhead district of Atlanta, in the parking lot of a club. The diseased glow of garish street lights by the club entrance did little to beat back the darkness around us as we leaned against a car and looked out over the car park. To a human it would seem as if a ghostly silence had descended on the city. For a vampire, however, there was always the hum of life, and I could hear the low buzz of voices, cars rushing by miles away, the almost hypnotic breathing of weary, fragile human bodies caught in the silken web of sleep. And of course, the music lovers make, which could be heard long past the witching hour.
I was distracted, my thoughts on the dreams of that ancient culture and the child. What if Akan wasn’t able to save her? I remembered the helplessness I had felt at my aunt’s funeral along with the vow I made to get to the truth behind her death. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to fulfil that vow, but, somehow, I knew there was a chance I could help the child goddess in some way. I didn’t know how, I was just sure Akan had been able to call me to him for a reason.
Avery pulled me out of my reverie when he glanced down at his watch; his other hand tightly gripping mine.
“It’s nearly two a.m. Where the hell is he?”
He reached to absentmindedly pat his hip as he had done repeatedly since we got to the car park. He had a silver dagger strapped there. His sword was strapped to his back, the hilt hidden by the hood of his sweatshirt which he had pulled over his head.
I sighed. “If he was going to stand us up, he could have at least chosen to meet us at a nice bar or something instead of this dump.”
It was as if he hadn’t heard me, the muscles of his face tight with tension so his eyes appeared to be the only living thing in his face—two orbs of blue flames that barely contained his misery as he searched the darkness ahead.
“That’s what we should do tomorrow, Avery. Go to a club or to dinner. Try and take our minds off of all this.”
He was still staring ahead, his thoughts elsewhere. Even if he had heard me, he wouldn’t want to take me anywhere.
Feeling despondency settle over me, I glanced at a man who had just exited the club and was making his way through the car park.
“Hey, is there an ATM around here?”
He pointed toward the club and continued moving through the dark. I made to tug my hand out of Avery’s, but he held tight, glancing down at me.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I need to get some cash. I’ll be back in a second.”
“You’re not going in there,” he said, looking away to search the night again. “Just stay close to me.”
“Avery, this may not be the right time to have this conversation, but you need to let up on the whole not letting me out of your sight thing you’ve been doing since you found out about that dream. You’re starting to make me feel smothered.”
He faced me again, his brow furrowed in disbelief, the tight grip he had on my hand loosening so I was able to slip free of it.
“I’m smothering you?”
“Yes, Avery.” I moved toward the club. “Now I’m going to get some cash. I may even go to the ladies room, and I don’t need you being all smothery and protective because I can take care of myself!”
“Dallas, wait. You don’t understand.”
I ignored him and walked past the doormen into the club, where I was enveloped by music.
I moved through the club, taking no notice of my surroundings, my head down as I dug into the pocket of my jeans for my cash card.
Avery clearly still thought I was five years old, I thought to myself as I finally retrieved my cash card. An odd noise, a thick, rhythmic groaning drew my attention to my surroundings and I looked up just as a mahogany-coloured woman in her late thirties moved past me with drinks in her hand. I glanced back at her as she walked away, my mouth falling open in shock.
She was completely naked but for pink stilettos, her deep, brown skin glistening with sweat and her fleshy, dimpled behind swaying nauseatingly as she moved away. I came to an abrupt stop and stared around me. All the women in the club were in their thirties and older. They were all naked. One sat astride a heavyset man and from his moans and the vigorous, mechanical way she was bouncing up and down on his lap, there was no mistaking the fact that she was giving him a lot more than a lap dance.
What the hell? Have I just walked into a... Eww!
I felt my face grow warm when I realised most of the people in the “club” were staring at me. I forced my mouth to close, drew my shoulders back, straightened my spine and flicked my hair over my shoulder.
Dallas Marshall wasn’t the kind of girl who was fazed by anything. Besides, I would look like a complete idiot to Avery if I ran back outside.
So, staring straight ahead, I moved to the ATM. I fumbled my cash card into the machine only to discover an “out of order” sign tacked to the side.
Since I had no intention of looking for the toilets, I flicked my hair over my shoulder and turned around, walking straight into Avery. He stared down at me, his lips curled
in amusement although his eyes were gentle.
“Did you get the money?” he asked.
“Yes, Avery, I did thank you.”
I moved past him and hurried out of the “club.”
Back in the car park I stared ahead in silence. When I glanced up at Avery he was looking at the ground and it appeared he was trying not to laugh.
I sighed.
“Just go ahead and laugh, Avery. But don’t say anything.”
At first he remained staring at the ground. Then the laughter spilled from him. I let him laugh for a second or two before I faced him.
“All right, that’s enough!”
“I did try to warn you, Dallas. Didn’t you hear what was happening in there?”
“I wasn’t listening, Avery. It’s no big deal anyway.”
He smiled at me and I noticed that for the first time since I had known him the misery that lived in him seemed to have been completely pushed back into the shadows. The smile softened and he reached for my face and cupped my cheek.
“I’m glad you’re here, Dallas.”
I beamed at him, the despondency I had felt earlier lifting.
Almost immediately he stiffened and the smile disappeared.
He dropped his hand from my face.
He looked away from me to the other end of the car park. I followed his gaze.
A woman was standing in the dark. She had a porcelain complexion and a cold, deadly beauty. Her hair was a long, dark sheet falling to her hips. She wore a gold bustier top with PVC leggings and black knee high boots. A thick cluster of gold jewellery hung around her neck and wrists.
Auria.
She was staring at Avery, her eyes cruel opals of rage. Her thoughts reached me clearly and they were of only two things.
Pain.
Death.
Her form wavered and the air around her puckered as Avery reached for me.
Fear lit me from the inside out with cold fingers of flame. She would be upon us before Avery could grab my arm.