The council came three hours before daybreak.
Chukwu was able to drop off Chichi at her hut. Then he dropped Orlu and Sasha at Orlu’s house, Grashcoatah following Orlu and landing in his compound safely hidden behind the house’s surrounding wall. At home, Sunny had time to greet her parents, peek into Ugonna’s room where he just grunted a hello and went back to sleep, take a shower, and unpack her things. It was just as she lay down to get a few hours of sleep that she felt her toes tingle. Then she felt the tingle travel up her body all the way to the top of her head. And it was in the centre of her head that she felt the tug.
“Oh no,” she whispered as she was pulled through her bedsheets and window. Then there she was, standing barefoot in her nightgown in front of the council car.
“Get in,” the driver said in American-accented Igbo. She was a small woman with long straight black hair, lots of make-up, and large earrings that clinked when she turned her head. Sunny got in.
On the front lawn of the library, Grashcoatah was chained, shackled, and muzzled. He lay there, looking forlornly at Sunny as she passed. He would flicker into invisibility and then reappear, groaning in despair and biting at his chains.
“Hang in there,” Sunny said as she was ushered inside. “We’ll get you free!” She hoped. She hoped.
“Move,” Sunny’s escort said, shoving her along. “Worry about yourself.”
Sunny would never forget the black classroom in the Obi Library. Even the leather seats and table were black. Sitting in the plush chairs were Library Council members or officials or executioners, Sunny didn’t know or care. They all looked like they could be her angry mean aunt or unforgiving uncle. The only one Sunny recognised was Sugar Cream. Sunny went and stood with the others before the table of adults, feeling irrational with fatigue and anger. She fought back tears of rage.
“Pull yourself together,” Orlu whispered to her. “Grashcoatah’s life depends on it.”
Anyanwu, she said in her mind.
I’m here, Anyanwu responded.
She felt her muscles flex as she stood up straight and faced the stern, mostly unfamiliar council members. Some were her mother’s age; most of them were much older. But Sunny didn’t care. She was in a sort of zone.
“Again, here you are, Sunny Nwazue,” an old woman said to her in Igbo. She wore her hair in thin white-grey braids and she looked more ancient than Sugar Cream. “Your third offence. You’d think nearly dying at the hands of a djinn would teach you to follow the rules. Yet here you are, and you’ve dragged your Oha coven and a grasscutter into the trouble with you.”
Orlu stepped forwards. Sunny put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got this,” she told him. She was shaking, but it wasn’t from fear; she felt she would burst if she didn’t say what she desperately wanted to say. She told them everything, from the beginning to the current moment. She spoke about her brother being in the secret society, how she ended up thrown into the Obi Library basement, the djinn, the dreams, being doubled, meeting with Bola, Lagos, Udide, almost facing Death, and then Osisi and their great battle with Ekwensu, the Aku masquerade, and Ekwensu’s minions. But again, she kept her encounter with Chukwu to herself.
When she finished talking, the council officials just stared at the four of them. For several minutes, it was like this. They did not discuss among themselves. They did not write things down. They did not ask questions. They didn’t even move. They just stared.
“To be doubled is very sad,” Sugar Cream finally said. “Death is always close by, but for you, he will always stand behind you.”
Recalling the image of Death in her peripheral vision, Sunny felt the shiver run up her spine and an uncontrollable urge to burst into tears. Almost. She remained stoic, mostly due to Anyanwu holding her steady.
“Your brother,” a tiny dark-skinned man about her mother’s age said. “We didn’t alter his memory. We gave him the choice of forgetting or entering a trust knot. We told him that to enter the trust knot was the hazardous choice. He was still under the Ujo, screaming with terror every few moments. And even then, he chose not to forget. Instead he chose to remember and suffer because he can never share the memory. We don’t normally allow this with Lambs, because with the wrong people this can cause madness. But for your brother, due to the circumstances and his passion to protect you, we allowed it. What will you do with him now?”
“Protect him,” Sunny said, before she’d fully thought her answer through.
Again the silence.
Not long after that, the four of them were told that they could go. Outside, Grashcoatah was released. And quickly, calmly, steadily, they all walked away from the Obi Library. It didn’t matter that it was nearly morning and they weren’t sure how they’d get home. Best to leave before the shock the council members were in wore off. Best to not run in order to maintain the look of innocence. Once they reached the Leopard Knocks shops, they climbed on Grashcoatah and off they flew.