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Chapter 40
“TOKE…”
I WAS FLOATING in the clouds when I heard my name. I tried to turn towards the voice but some heavy weight pressed me down. I fought against it, slowly. It was like fighting through a quicksand, but steadily I began to make progress breaking free.
“How long has she been out?”
“Around two a.m. when the doctor arrived. He had to drug her to sleep as she was crying non-stop, lost to every of our efforts to communicate with her. She should wake up around ten or eleven o’clock, according to the doctor.”
The voices speaking were familiar, making me want to see their faces even more, but the weight kept me spineless. I struggled hard against it and finally I broke free. I groaned as I slowly came to, struggling to open my eyes. My head was banging wildly like the native African drums, and I felt weak.
“She’s awake,” one of the voices hissed. And then silence.
My eyes were bl
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CRIMSON SKY Chapter 41
“YOU ARE LATE,” Kudaisi said as soon as I arrived at our rendezvous point. “What’s the problem?” he asked, seeing the worried look on my face.“Kenny…” my voice broke and I stopped.“What about him?”“I found him. He is already a cursed one.”“No,” Kudaisi hissed in shock. I nodded, turning my eyes down as he stared intently at me—barely holding myself together. “Where is he?”“With the witches at Olofi. They practically sent him to them with a note stating it was a gift for me.”“The bastards!” Kudaisi cursed. “How about Shola and Taiwo?”“I don’t know yet. I- I- I hope they are fine.” I nearly broke there, until I felt the white matron determining my location with her spell. “I need your help,” I said, raising my head.“You know I would—”&nbs
CRIMSON SKY Chapter 42
PAIN. ANGER. REGRET.I felt his emotions, every single part of it, as the Red matron who personally oversaw his interrogation tortures him again and again, taking him just to the brink of oblivion only to drag him back from falling into the darkness. Green vines bound his hands and legs, splaying him wide in the air in nothing but his boxer shorts, and his body shivered as pain racked through him with each slightest movement. His screams resounded loud as the red matron did something to him for some long minutes before stopping.I watched everything from the shadows, unable to move, speak, or even let loose of the floodgate of tears locked behind my eyes and vent the thick stifling pain which smothered me. He refused to speak despite whatever they did to him, refused to betray his friends.An image flashed through my mind—his mind. It was his late grandmother, Iya Agba. I looked at her with familiarity like I have known her for years, feeling from
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There was no more me, only Kudaisi. I felt what he felt, saw what he saw. I had become him.As a little boy, after spending the better parts of the day playing and running around the whole neighborhood with friends, I would end up on Iya Agba’s bed after dinner with his head on her bony thighs as she either tell me a story or sing a song while her fingers softly caress his head. She will only stop when I’m drowsing to take me to his room, or after I doze off and I will wake up the next day to find himself in his own room, on his bed.One thing about those times is, I am always secure in the warmth of her bosom, like the kind of feeling a chick has staying under the wings of its mother. I was immovable, untouchable, I was free—unrestrained.The same feeling encompass me now as Iya Agba’s scent invades his senses—the scent of home, of love, of the feeling that nothing can ever go wrong.“Kudaisi.”I groan, re
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In Kudaisi's headIT’S TWO DAYS since he got back home with Iya Agba. The police come around to take statements the very day they return. He forces himself to look blank all through the meeting as if lost, but it is only to suppress the restlessness from the hunger and scalding thirst ravaging me—no easy feat that.Iya Agba attends to them, simply telling them I lost his memory and cannot remember much, and that a Good Samaritan found him by the roadside with his wallet which contained her number, helping him find his way back home.The policemen only direct looks of pity his way before leaving, promising to come again for more information. THey know they wouldn’t be back and only said they would for effect. The bus he boarded at the park in Lagos has still not been found, and according to the police I might just be the only survivor of a ritualist kidnapping which is not so unusual in this part of the world, and
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SHE IS AN OLD HAG—Yeye Omo, Iya Agba called her.She was so old, withered, and bent that Kudaisi feared she would drop dead anytime soon. The faded brown and red flower patterned blouse and wrapper she wore did nothing to hide her skeleton frame. She tottered on a worn-out wooden cane held tight in her right hand, leading Kudaisi and Iya Agba into her decrepit mud hut with lots of wide yawning cracks in its walls. A lantern hung on the left side of the door casting an iridescent glow about, with its wick fluttering under the soft night breeze.Kudaisi nearly found himself rushing to assist Yeye Omo as she weaves hard by the door, taking a moment to steady herself and enter into the hut.“Go in,” Iya Agba commanded as he paused by the entrance.Kudaisi eyed the walls for a moment, praying it holds still and doesn’t collapse and seal them to their deaths.“Sit.” Yeye Omo waved a hand t
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Kudaisi growled, fighting against the invisible shackles that bound him to no avail.Yeye Omo chortled softly as she eased herself away from him and stood to her feet, using her left hand to wipe the blood trailing down her lips.Kudaisi continued his struggles against the invisible shackle to no effect.“To say I had to use this before I could stop you. You should be proud.” There was a horn in Yeye Omo’s right hand which she raised us. The horn was long with spirals like a bull’s horn. It was wrapped in black and red cloth with cowries and dry leaves around it, and it shined dimly even under the soft yellow glow of the lamps, oozing smoke from its top.“Do you know what I had to do to get this five hundred years Áse?” Yeye Omo inquired, looking grim. “It took years and years of service to get something this powerful. Long years of service, and I doubt there are many charms of its caliber around.&
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Our wait continued until late into the night when Iya Agba came back. Yeye omo collected the materials and began to the sacrifice and invocation immediately, chanting incantations. “Why have you called me?” strong pressure descends suddenly in the room as a thick baritone voice asks gruffly, jolting them with its unexpectedness.Yeye Omo quickly comes to her feet, followed by Iya Agba who first founders on the stool nearly falling on the floor before standing.“Welcome my lord.” Yeye Omo etches a bow as a man materializes before them.Iya Agba echoes Yeye Omo’s greetings, also bowing, while Kudaisi stand there and study him.Busari Egiri, the man who has lived centuries. He wears a white top, buba, and short, Sokoto, and he looks middle aged despite the full white hairs on his head and beards. A heavy white shawl lay on his left shoulder, with a small white sack by his hip with its strap across his body
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The sound of hooting precedes Iya Agba’s arrival as she enters as a bird before morphing back into human.“I am sorry for keeping you waiting,” Iya Agba says, etching a low bow. “Let’s get this done quickly, I have somewhere else I must be.” Busari stands to his feet. “Where are the goat and the pigeons?”“They are out at the backyard, let me get them.” Yeye Omo stands to her feet and totters wildly. She is saved by the wall behind her which she leans heavily on. Giving her witch’s bead to Busari for the sacrifice had weakened her a lot.“Yeye Omo!” Iya Agba hurries to her side.“I’m okay.” Yeye Omo wards Iya Agba away with her hand.Busari sighs and points his staff to the floor before him. A midnight black goat and seven pigeons appear out of thin air. “No need, I’ve gotten them.”Kudaisi gawked at Busari, surpris
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