“You should rest,” Kamuna says. I’m nodding off before the dying fire.
“She hasn’t come back yet,” I say, but I let Death lead me to my cot.
“Rest,” she insists. “I will wake you up if she so much as stirs an eyelash.”
I let her tuck my blanket around me and, as I listen to her putter around my kitchen, I fall into a fitful sleep.
“Hakawati,” I hear someone saying, pulling me out of a nightmare. “Wake up.”
“Mmm?” I say, then realize it’s Kamuna speaking.
“Layala!” I yell and jump out of my cot.
Sayil’s body is standing there, before the fire, staring at me with eyes so bright and blue, they rival the brightest morning sky.
And holding a knife to her throat is a ghoul.