Children of Virtue and Vengeance (Legacy of Orïsha #2)(25)

There’s no way out.

If I don’t use my magic to attack, we die.

“?mí àw?n tí ó ti sùn—”

Time seems to slow as the ashê erupts in my blood. Spirits condense in the air like grains of black sand. My arms shake from the magic that fights its way out.

The spirits race through my bones, rising from the earth in droves. But as my animations take form, I realize that they’re not the only ones.

“?mí àw?n tí ó ti sùn—”

My brows furrow as a gangly soldier in golden armor repeats my incantation. I feel the spirits that he calls into animations, but they don’t rise as individual soldiers. The souls weave themselves together, bringing one giant monster to life. My jaw drops as the gravelly beast rises from the earth. It’s so large its silhouette blocks out the sun.

Frozen in our confusion, no one moves as our animations stand still. The soldier walks forward and pulls off his golden helmet, revealing a full head of white hair.

“By the grace of Oya, it’s you!” The boy’s mouth hangs open as he stares at me. He can’t be more than fifteen. Like his massive animation, he has ears far too large for his head.

“Your form could use some work,” another voice rings, its speaker limping toward me. “But I am impressed. That was quite the incantation.”

As the soldier removes her helmet, all the breath leaves my lungs. The Seer inspects the work of my animations just like she used to inspect my form with a staff.

“Mama Agba?” I whisper.

A smile spreads across her brown lips. Tears brim in her mahogany eyes as she opens her arms.

“I told you we would meet again.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN


ZéLIE


I DON’T KNOW if I’ve ever cried as hard as I do in Mama Agba’s arms. The scent of fresh fabric bleeds through her suit of armor, wrapping me in the memories of home. Her embrace brings the crash of Ilorin’s waves, the sharp smack of two oak staffs. Another sob breaks free as I cling to her, terrified that if I let go, this dream will end.

“Pèlé,” Mama Agba whispers into my coils, resting her chin on my head. She rubs my back and lets out a small laugh. “It’s okay, my child. I’m here.”

I nod, but tighten my grip; as I hold her, the sensation of holding my own mother’s spirit in alafia hits me like a wave. I barely got Mama back before she slipped through my arms. I won’t survive losing someone like that again.

“Look at your hair!” I laugh through my tears and touch the small white coils now sprouting from her scalp.

“A little warrior brought magic back.” She smiles. “I no longer wished to hide.”

As she speaks, I take in the mole on her chin, the new spots and wrinkles along her dark brown skin. Her limp is more pronounced than I remember, but she’s real. She’s actually here.

“Come along.” Mama Agba kisses my forehead before rising to embrace Amari and Tzain. I wipe away the rest of my tears and observe the soldiers behind her. Each maji shares my white coils. Their rich complexions cover a beautiful spectrum of dark and light browns.

The young Reaper with the large ears and bright eyes steps forward, an incredulous grin on his face.

“What was that incantation?” I ask. “I’ve never seen a giant animation.”

“All the Reapers in my family could do it!” He beams with pride. “Instead of making a bunch of animations, we weave them together to form one.”

“That’s amazing.”

“You’re amazing!” His teeth clench, and I jerk back. He falls to his knees and bows. “Jagunjagun Ikú, I beg of you, take me as your Second!”

“By the gods, Mazeli.” A maji with beads woven through her white braids laughs. “She just got here. Give her a minute to rest.”

“Ignore them.” Mazeli grabs my hand, round eyes open wide. “I will serve you faithfully until I can take your place as elder of the Reaper clan. But by then, we will have fallen in love.” His grip tightens when I try to pull away. His voice rises in pitch. “You will be the mother of my children. I shall serve our family till my dying breath—”

“Alright,” Mama Agba cuts in, patting Mazeli on the head. “The military patrols will pass through soon. Why don’t we continue this conversation behind closed walls?”

“Is he always like that?” I whisper to Mama Agba as we start walking.

“Like all great Reapers in the making, Mazeli is quite determined.”

I smile, but stop when I see that Ro?n lags behind. A maji hands him a bag of gold, and something in my chest deflates when Ro?n doesn’t follow the others into the rain forest.

“That’s it?” I hang back. “You’re leaving again?”

“The job’s done. I need to meet up with my crew back in Lagos.”

“Lagos?” I ask. “You’re working for the other side?”

“There’s a lot of money to be made in a war, Z?tsōl. If you stop messing around with all this fighting, you can grab some for yourself.”

I shake my head; I don’t know why I expected more. “Do you stand for anything besides gold?”

“I’m standing in front of you, aren’t I?” Ro?n leans in, so close I can see the faint freckles over his cheekbone.