23
SIGNS
“Sunny!” Orlu shouted.
Sasha jumped up and waved his hands, which were now wrapped with large leaves. Chichi broke into a run, laughing and shouting. “We got it!!”
Sunny grinned but kept walking at her steady pace. She was strong, but this thing was heavy. She grasped its loops, leaning it against her arms. She could feel the Nsibidi moving where it touched her skin, and she hoped it didn’t have the capacity to absorb into her flesh. Anyanwu was walking close beside her. You can’t worry about everything, Anyanwu said.
Chichi stopped at the burned bushes, Orlu and Sasha on the other side of them.
“Danafojura told us not to cross it,” Orlu said. “Best not to challenge that.”
“I’d have risked it if I had my juju knife.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Orlu said, annoyed.
Sasha chuckled sheepishly, looking at his wrapped hands. “He’s right.”
“Well, we can cross it now,” Chichi said, stepping into the ashes and char. She paused and then kept going, and soon she was wrapped in a tight hug and then locking lips with Sasha.
“Is it heavy?” Orlu asked Sunny, ignoring them.
“Yeah, but . . .” She shrugged.
Orlu nodded. “Nimm warrior.” He held up the arm without the papa and flexed a muscle.
Sunny crossed the charred demarcation and was relieved when nothing happened. Still, the moment she stepped onto the sand, her legs weakened and she sank to the ground. Anyanwu rushed into her. The three of them rushed to her. They hugged her, and for several moments they stayed like that. Quiet, holding on. Sunny shut her eyes, feeling strong but so tired. It was only in this moment that she realized how much she wanted this to be over. For everything to be okay.
She rested with her head on Orlu’s shoulder, her lips to his neck. An idea came to her. “I think I know how we can get back quickly,” Sunny said. She gave the ghazal to Sasha to hold. She didn’t want to put it on the ground, Orlu couldn’t hold it with his broken arm, and Sasha had insisted, despite his burned hands.
“The leaves numb most of the pain, anyway,” he said. “Thank Orlu for finding them.”
Orlu took a bow. “Forests are better than drugstores.”
“True that,” Sasha said, giving Orlu a fist bump.
When she gave the ghazal to Sasha, he gasped from the weight. “Hurry up,” he said.
She went to the ashes and char and scooped some of it into the empty bag of groundnuts in her backpack. Then she ran to The Road. It was still quite empty there. This was not a place many liked to come to, for good reason. The strange vertigo hit when she stepped onto it, but with Anyanwu inside her and after everything that had happened, she took it in stride. And she used the ashes to draw. She didn’t envision home, exactly. She drew her wasp artist Della, its lovely comb, and the tree she’d buried it beside.
The others stood on the side of The Road watching. The mix of ash and char sifted easily from her hand and fell and settled on The Road like a substance much heavier than it was. She saw Della and its comb clearly in her mind, and what she drew looked surprisingly accurate. The focused act of drawing it settled her nerves. When she stopped, she stood back and gazed at her work for a while. Something zoomed by on The Road, and she ignored it. When she smiled, Anyanwu smiled. “There,” she said. She stepped off The Road and took the ghazal from Sasha.
“Oh! Take it! Please, take it,” he said, groaning. He bent and stretched his arms and twisted his torso, this way and that way. “My God, it’s like carrying a fifty-pound dumbbell! I’m not even going to front anymore, you’re definitely stronger than me, Sunny.”
“Yep,” Sunny said, cradling the ghazal. “I know.”
“I think I could carry it,” Orlu said.
Sasha kissed his teeth. “Mmhm, you just happen to have the perfect excuse to not have to.”
“Yep,” Orlu said, holding up his arm with the papa on it. It snuggled and slightly shifted its position but seemed otherwise comfortable where it was, holding Orlu’s arm in place.
“Come here,” Chichi said to Sasha. “I haven’t gotten to look. Let me see.”
He bit his lip and went to her.
She took a peek under the leaves wrapped around Sasha’s hands. She wrinkled her nose. “Looks nasty,” she said. But by the way she said it, Sunny knew that it must not have looked that bad.
“Just the way you like it, baby,” Sasha drawled.
Chichi giggled. “You know burns hurt like hell as they heal?”
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m more worried about getting a new knife.”
“What? Junk Man is still there,” Orlu said. “I think my father got his juju knife from him, too. Abuja isn’t that far.”
“It’s silly of me, but . . .” Sunny put a hand over her face, embarrassed. “I kinda thought that you had your juju knife all your life. Like you only had one and that’s it.”
“Because knives can’t get lost or . . . melted down by masquerades?” Sasha said. “A Leopard Person won’t have a ton, but usually you have more than one over a lifetime.” He looked at Orlu. “I got my juju knife in Tar Nation. It’s in South Carolina.”
“The States?” Orlu asked.
“Yeah. I’ll get a new one there. There’s this Gullah guy there named Blue who lives in a swamp. He will have my new knife. You coming with me, Chichi?”
“Nope. See you when you come back here.”
“Fair enough,” Sasha said.
“Hey! I see it!” Sunny said. She did a happy dance in a circle, even with the ghazal in her arms.
The kabu kabu that screeched to a stop in front of them looked like a futuristic SUV from Ginen. It was sleek, oily black, and the doors opened upward like wings. The driver was a dark-skinned black woman with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper locs. She smiled at them, raised her hands, and signed to them. Chichi pushed past Sunny, saying, “I got this.”
“Hey, I know sign language, too,” Sasha said. “Adamorobe Sign Language in particular; it’s Ghanaian.”
Sunny and Orlu stood back while Sasha and Chichi conversed with the driver. Sunny turned to Orlu, hoisted the ghazal up, and held out a pinkie. He smiled and immediately grasped it. The papa on his arm chittered, curiously looking at their clasped fingers.
“When we get home, I want to take you on a celebration date. Where do you want to go? It’s all my treat.”
Sunny grinned. Before today, she’d have just kept this desire to herself. But it was a new day. “How about somewhere in the Dark Market? I heard there’s a place that serves only edible flowers and they’re super nutritious. Pepper soup made with flowers! Can you imagine?!”
Orlu laughed hard. “This is why I love you.”
They both paused at this.
Then Sunny awkwardly leaned over the ghazal and gave him a long kiss. “I love you, too, Orlu.” She rested her forehead against his.
They turned to Sasha, Chichi, and the driver when the three of them suddenly all burst out laughing.
“All right, she’ll take us,” Chichi said. “But you have to hold on to the ghazal. Don’t let it touch anything.”
Sunny shrugged. “Okay. I can do that.”
They all climbed into the back. Sunny perched the ghazal on her lap. It wasn’t comfortable, but she would be okay. She looked out the window toward the burned bush wall and wasn’t surprised to see that the dried-out bush was back as it had been when they’d first arrived. They started moving, and just before everything around them became a blur, Sunny saw Danafojura standing there in front of the dried bushes dancing in a circle. Sunny looked down at the ghazal in her lap; she looked hard at it. She felt Udide’s powerful gaze once again. But instead of letting this deter her, for a little while she endured the burn of her gaze and looked harder.
The drive along The Road was quiet. No music. None of them talking. Just staring out the window. Sunny felt safe and after some time, her mind full, she began to really observe her surroundings.
She saw thousands of spirits of so many names, maybe some without a name. Some looked back at her, others were too focused. Something with a large suction cup for a mouth stuck to her window before tumbling into the quagmire of rushing spirits. It was like driving through an otherworldly tornado. For what felt like an hour, no one moved or said a thing.
When they finally left The Road and turned onto a path flanked by a forest of tall palm trees, Sunny realized her lap was aching from the weight of the ghazal. She stretched her shoulders. Then the driver signed to Sasha and Chichi and they turned to Orlu and Sunny. “We gotta pay up,” Sasha said, reaching into her pocket. “We’re nearly there.”
“Aren’t we going to wait until we—”
“Nah,” Sasha said. “Three gold chittim each, the hand-sized ones.”
“Orlu, can you get it out of my backpack?” Sunny said.
They fumbled their chittim together and handed it to the driver. She grinned at them, clearly pleased with their payment. Then a black partition began to rise, separating them from her, and suddenly the inside of the vehicle felt so small.
“Wait,” Sunny said. “Why—” Suddenly there was a green flash that lit up everything. She shut her eyes, “Ah! What was that?” When she opened her eyes, everything felt bright, crisp, clear, and when she spoke, it was with Anyanwu’s low, husky voice. “Hold!” Without hesitating, Sunny did.
She turned to Orlu and was looking into the face of his spirit, the Nsibidi on his cheeks dancing. Chichi and Sasha also were wearing their spirit faces. And Sunny could see Anyanwu’s sunrays with her peripheral vision. They were in the wilderness. The partition was for the driver’s privacy and theirs.
A flicker outside caught her eye. The three fireflies were hovering outside the window. She touched the glass and the fireflies congregated where her finger was. She grinned. Now she understood.
“You remember where you left it, right?” Sasha asked.
“Yeah,” Sunny said, watching the fireflies, which were now following the kabu kabu.
Outside had the glow of twilight, and the field of spirit grass they were driving through wavered as a breeze blew over it. They slowed down, coasting for a bit. Then Sunny saw it. The tree. She turned to look at Orlu, who was looking over her shoulder outside. She kissed him and his attention turned completely to her. It was so strange, his wooden spirit face felt like . . . his human face. They openly looked into each other’s faces for a moment; Sunny giggled and kissed him again. She pulled back when she heard Sasha and Chichi both snickering.
“Damn, you two,” Sasha said. “Spirit faces and all.”
“That’s hot,” Chichi said.
When the kabu kabu stopped, they climbed out, and before they could say goodbye, it sped off down the field and disappeared. “You know she nearly refused to drive us,” Chichi said. “She doesn’t like driving in the wilderness . . . plus, she’d heard about what happened with that funky train driver.”
“Man, we’re going to be stuck explaining that situation to every driver we meet,” Sasha said. “But she almost wouldn’t drive you because of that ghazal.”
Sunny frowned. “How would she know what it is?”
“She didn’t. But she knew where we were coming from. Can you blame her?”
None of them could. Sunny turned to the tree and found the spot immediately. “Sasha,” she said. “Can you give me a second? I need to . . . do something important.”
He nodded, swallowing the question she knew he wanted to ask.
She handed the ghazal to him and stepped away.
She heard Chichi say, “What’s she—”
“Shh,” Sasha said. “Leave her.”
Facing the field of spirit grass, Sunny held up a hand. They came immediately—the three fireflies, landing in the center of her palm. “I know who you are,” she whispered.
“We’ve known you even longer,” one of them said. The voice was childlike and joyous.
Sunny felt Anyanwu wanted to say something, but she told her not to. “I’m not returning here anytime soon,” Sunny told them.
“It’s fine,” one of the others said. Its voice sounded like a grown man’s. “We see you often enough.”
And they were right. Sunny came to the wilderness far more than your average ogbanje.
“What are your names?” she asked.
“You don’t remember?” the third one asked. This one sounded like a huge monster, its voice low and rumbly.
“No.”
“That’s all right,” the monster-voiced one said. “You will get over this journey, and then we will see you.” They flew around her head in a way that reminded her of her wasp artist, Della, and then they were tumbling along the breeze across the field. “We’ll see yoooouuuuu.”
When Sunny returned to her human friends, they didn’t ask her anything about the exchange and she was glad. She bent down and started digging. She felt her zyzzyx, and the moment she grasped it, she let go. It was like the world shed its skin. The warm breeze stopped and became sweltering, heavy humidity.
Sunny stood up straight and put the comb in her hair. They were back in the driveway of Orlu’s house. Chichi, Orlu, and Sasha all took an involuntary deep breath and started coughing. Sunny rushed to Sasha and caught the ghazal as Sasha’s arms went slack. Tiny golden chittim showered around them, their shine glittering like a galaxy of stars over Ginen. Sunny watched it all, grasping their prize. Ting, ting, ting, ting! The tinkle of them was so sweet. These chittim were worth little, but what a beautiful spectacle they made! What a way to return home.
“Ouch!” she screeched when one of the chittim fell, hitting her right on the funny bone. She hissed as a horrible cocktail of numbness, pain, and pressure ran up her forearm. She struggled not to drop the ghazal.
“You guys all right?” Sunny asked as the three of them slowly stopped panting. She shook out and looked at her elbow. The bruise was already a deep red. Sugar Cream had said there was always a consequence for holding for an extended period of time, but Sunny would never have imagined the consequence would be so . . . petty.
“Felt like someone standing on my chest,” Orlu said.
“Or someone sucking the breath from my lungs,” Sasha said.
“Like I almost died,” Chichi said.
“Never,” Sunny said. “I was never going to let anything happen to any of you.” And she really meant it.
“We know, Sunny,” Chichi said.
“What day do you think it is?” Sasha asked.
Sunny sat down, resting the ghazal on her lap, and brought out her phone, her heart beating. They’d left days ago, and who knew how much time passed while in the wilderness and . . . beyond. Her father was going to go mad. She clicked the side of her phone and waited for it to turn on. She stretched her sore elbow; the pain had decreased, but the numbness remained.
“Looks like my parents are home,” Orlu said. He looked at his arm, the papa still firmly affixed to it. “Not looking forward to all the explaining.”
“Not-at-all,” Sasha added.
“Sunny,” Chichi said. “What day is it?”
Sunny stared at her phone. She looked at Chichi, startled. “It’s the same day as when we left.”
“What?” Sasha screeched so loudly his voice cracked.
“It’s the exact same time as when we left. No time has passed.”
And for a moment, they might as well have been frozen in time.
“The wilderness?” Orlu asked.
Sunny shook her head. “I’ve glided before and time had passed when I came back,” Sunny said.
“It’s The Road,” Sasha said. “You called that kabu kabu and asked it to bring us right to where you put the comb; maybe the ‘when’ matters, too.”
“Or maybe my phone is messed up,” she said. She looked again, a sinking feeling in her belly. She hadn’t checked the year. She went to calendar. She breathed a sigh of relief. Still, her phone could have been malfunctioning after all it had been through. “Let’s all go home,” she said. “We’ll find out for sure that way. Plus . . .” She sighed. They all had to make things right at home in various ways.
“What about returning the ghazal?” Orlu said.
“Chichi and I will do it,” Sunny said.
“Come home with me,” Chichi said to Sunny.
“A’ight,” Sasha said. “Let’s meet up tomorrow night?”
Sunny gently put the ghazal on the driveway and stood up. She brought out her juju knife and turned to her friends. She held it up. “We did it,” she said, feeling Anyanwu shining within her. Orlu brought out his knife, then Chichi. Sasha looked sheepish; his juju knife had melted back on the side of The Road. Chichi put an arm around his waist and pulled him to her.
“Here,” she said, taking his hand and putting it to her knife. “Only this time.”
“This is weird,” Sasha muttered, but he held Chichi’s knife with her.
When they touched the tips, it wasn’t like last time when she saw and felt through her friends; this time she felt the strength and love that existed between them shiver up her numb arm to her chest, to her temples. A thought came to her that was so strong and sure that she knew it would be true . . . They would each do great, great things. But just as she was sure, she was suddenly unsure of what the thought was.
Sunny hugged Sasha tightly and he kissed her on the cheek. She turned to Orlu and he took her hand. “We’ll pick up all these chittim,” he said.
“I know,” she said, smiling.
“Be careful. Just give it to her and be done with it.”
“That’s the plan,” she said.
“Plans are just plans,” he said. He squeezed her hand. “Be careful.”
Chichi’s mother wasn’t home, so Sunny left the ghazal with Chichi at her hut. The walk home was nice, as there were few cars on the road and people on the street. She was still deep in thought when she pushed open the gate. Not only were her parents’ cars in the driveway, but so was her oldest brother’s Jeep.
She used her key to open the front door, her heart feeling as if it would leap from her chest. If he slaps me again, she thought, I won’t leave. I have to face this. But the thought of it made her hands shake. She could hear her parents in the living room, and Chukwu . . . and her middle brother, Ugonna? She frowned. All in the living room? She could hear the TV going. She looked in. They were all watching with wide eyes.
“. . . announced a one-month lockdown to limit the spread of the coronavirus, banning all international flights and shutting land borders.”
“Hi,” Sunny said.
Her mother turned and a grin spread across her face, and Sunny wanted to weep with relief. This was all the answer she needed. “Oh, Sunny, I’m so relieved you’re home! Have you heard the news?”
A brand-new virus was spreading around the world, and the Nigerian government had just put the country on lockdown. Sunny had heard fragments about it, but she’d been so focused on getting the ghazal. Udide could do a thousand times worse things than any virus, but Sunny didn’t think such a focused assault on humanity was Udide’s speed. Sunny was sure there would be meetings in Leopard Knocks over this. Leopard People could easily bring in the virus by other methods of travel. And they certainly would have people trying to cure it.
Sunny joined everyone in the living room and remained there with her family for the next several hours. Her brother had rushed home when the university closed. Everyone was going home. By the time Sunny got up to return to her room, she couldn’t stop thinking about how her journey to being a Leopard Person had started with an image of the end of the world, and now here was another threat of the end again. She was about to enter her room when she heard, “Sunny.” Her father stood in the hallway.
“Yes, Dad,” she said.
He slowly approached her. When he said nothing, she said, “Dad, I’m s—”
He pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms. She was taller than he was now, but she still felt small, like his child. He squeezed her tightly and she hugged him back. She understood so much more now. Maybe he did, too. Now. “I’m sorry, Sunny,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Dad,” she said, holding on to him more tightly.
When he finally let her go, he touched her cheek. She looked deep into her father’s eyes. She hoped he didn’t notice the tiny red dot still in her eye from when he’d slapped her. It was slowly disappearing and probably would be gone in a few days.
“I will never understand,” he said. “But I see you . . . all of you.” He paused and then turned and went back to the living room.
Sunny stood there for a few moments. “I love you, Dad,” she whispered. She entered her room. The moment she closed the door behind her, Della zipped around her head with joy and delight, landing on her comb, clearly pleased that she was still wearing it.
“Della, hi,” she said, laughing. The large blue wasp flew at her face, bumping her cheek. It zoomed around the room and disappeared into its nest on the ceiling. She dumped her backpack on the floor, locked her door, fell onto her bed, and didn’t wake up until it was deep into the night.
She looked out her window at the dead palm tree, then she went and took a long, hot shower, letting the water warm her elbow (it had gone from numb to painful, which Sunny assumed was better). She put on a pair of fresh jeans, shoving her juju knife in her pocket. She threw on a white T-shirt and sneakers. And without a second thought, she glided through the keyhole. Outside, the night was cool. The mosquitos were quiet. Her walk to Chichi’s hut was swift. Chichi was waiting for her when she arrived, sitting outside, smoking a Banga. She put it out as Sunny picked up the ghazal beside Chichi.
Chichi didn’t ask where Sunny was going as they walked. And when they arrived at the dead palm tree, Udide was there to meet them. The wind blew through the dried leaves of the dead tree, disturbing the calm of the night. A large leaf broke off and fell to the ground beside Udide. Sunny and Chichi stepped up to her, dead branches snapping under their feet. This was not a place people could easily walk through; it was full of lizards, snakes, and spiders. Especially tonight.
Sunny was glad she’d worn sneakers instead of sandals. Chichi couldn’t say the same. They stopped in front of the giant spider who wasn’t really a spider, and Sunny was glad when Chichi put an arm around her shoulder. She needed both hands to hold the ghazal, otherwise she’d have grabbed Chichi’s hand.
“Oga Udide Okwanka, the Great Spider Artist,” Chichi said, lifting her chin. “We have brought you your work.”
“My memories,” Udide said.
Chichi nodded.
“Nimm women have read it and used some of my secrets without asking me. What of that? Will you bring me those women, too?”
Sunny’s stomach dropped. When will this be over?
“No,” Chichi said firmly. “I will not.”
She saw Udide’s forelegs come up and then start weaving. Sunny had only a moment to decide to do it.
“You will anger her,” she heard Anyanwu warn just before she did it anyway. Anyanwu was too surprised to stop Sunny. Anyanwu had been with her for much of the drive from the Power House, but not in the first part of it. Anyanwu had gone wherever she liked to go.
And in that way, Sunny had been left completely alone with the ghazal in her lap. And she’d stared at it in the comfort of the car. And she’d read some of it. Because she knew even back then that Udide was not going to make returning what was stolen from her easy.
From the fraction that she’d been able to read, this was what Sunny understood: Udide’s ghazal was a memoir fueled by, recipes inspired by, a weapon created from, a testament to, a mystical command book centered on love. The journey of it, the power of it, the healing of it, the price of it, the weight of it, the juju of it. There were probably a thousand recipes on that ghazal that could destroy, even erase, the universe. Sunny’s eye had jumped around the ghazal, focusing on the few words she could interpret, fighting the headache that reading them caused . . . and she’d found what she needed. And she used it now.
She slapped her hand to the soil just as Udide threw what looked like a net of webbing at her and Chichi. She heard Chichi screech and then Sunny felt the slap of water on all sides. It squeezed at her. It took her breath away. And now, all around Sunny was dark blueness. Less than a moment later, she felt the rough scratch of what looked like one of Udide’s legs. If she’d had breath to spare, she would have screamed. There was a wall of water wavering inches from her face. She glanced down. The wall of water was inches from all around her. She was in a bubble.
What have you done? she heard Anyanwu ask. For Anyanwu to say this was chilling, for she had seen lifetimes more than Sunny. And Anyanwu sounded utterly alarmed.
“Don’t leave,” Sunny pleaded.
“I won’t,” Anyanwu said.
In the deep waters before her, Sunny saw a looming figure the size of Udide, and to its left, she could see what she was sure was Udide. The Nsibidi had worked. On the first try. Sunny had seen it on the ghazal and committed it to memory throughout the drive. Since arriving home, she’d spoken the symbols and the method to herself over and over, being careful not to accidently activate it. She’d told herself it was just a precaution, but just as she knew Udide would come for her and Chichi, in her heart, she knew she’d need this juju.
“Love rules all,” Sunny croaked when she was finally able to take a breath.
“Ah,” Anyanwu said. “True love.”
In the murk of the waters, the shape was as enormous as Udide and equally as intimidating. Sunny couldn’t speak its name even if she’d wanted to. Its very name was juju. However, Sunny knew of it. Orlu had spoken of it back when they’d traveled to Lagos to seek out Udide. And then it had been mentioned again when Chichi told of her mother’s theft of the ghazal; Udide had been visiting it and her absence at her lair had been the only reason Chichi’s mother and her cousins had succeeded. This was the Great Crab, the love of Udide’s life. They only saw each other once every millennia . . . until now.
Sunny had used one of Udide’s juju instructions to spirit Udide to where Udide most desired. The juju was called “Over All Things,” and it had been the easiest thing to read on the ghazal because it was so simple. But Sunny hadn’t expected to be whisked along . . . or have her life saved by Udide when they reappeared underwater.
The hulking figure glowed a dim red as it lumbered toward Udide. Sunny took the moment to look around. She couldn’t move. She was literally encased in a tight bubble. She looked up and only saw darkness. How deep in the ocean was she? The bubble was protecting her from more than drowning; it was protecting her from the weight of the water above, too. She still had her juju knife and powder, but moving about in here was impossible. She gently reached forward and touched the barrier of the bubble. Her finger passed right through it. The water was warm.
“Sunny,” a voice said. The bubble around her vibrated from it.
“If you love Udide,” Sunny blurted, “then make her do the right thing!”
That’s your plan? Anyanwu asked in her mind.
“Sunny.” The voice was louder as the giant red crab crept toward her, smooth and oily. “You bring Udide to me when I saw her so recently; you take such great risk coming to the bottom of the sea . . . You don’t fear death?”
The bubble vibrated more intensely and Sunny was woozy with fear. And that made her even woozier. If she fell while in this bubble, would the air around her follow her or would she fall into the water and its terrible pressure? How would she ever get out of here? “I didn’t know this would happen . . . I didn’t know!” she said.
“You have pleased me,” the crab said.
“I’m glad,” she said.
“Why?”
Sunny felt woozier than ever and she swayed on her feet. She felt Anyanwu within her, helping her to stay up, stay focused. “Udide promised us something, my friend and me.”
“Promises are made to be broken,” Udide said, then Sunny’s bubble vibrated as Udide laughed. It shrank even tighter around Sunny, making it harder for her to stand in such a tiny space. Sunny reached into her pocket for her juju knife. But what the hell could she even do?!
“Udide, will you then leave her to die? She has returned your book, I assume.”
“She has.”
“Then you have what you need.”
“That is beside the point.” Udide stamped a foot and the bubble pressed even closer to Sunny. Now the water was less than an inch from her face. One stumble and she was dead.
“My love,” the crab said.
The bubble got smaller. It was touching Sunny’s nose, the water warm like the water of a bath. How could this be at the bottom of the ocean? Sunny let out a terrified breath and it caused the water to splash in her face. “Please!” she screamed. She saw Anyanwu standing before her. Sunny felt both weak and strong. Anyanwu moved easily in the water, and now Sunny could see both Udide and the Great Crab clearly, even through the murk. The Great Crab had two huge, barnacle-encrusted foreclaws that looked as if they could crush whatever was brought before it, be it stones, lead, or diamonds. Then she realized why the Great Crab glowed—all over the rest of its body were large bioluminescent sea anemones that wavered in the water like strange, squishy pom-poms.
“Udide, you do not see each other often. Sunny has brought you to your love for a second time in years. She has given you a great gift you two are too proud to give yourselves,” Anyanwu said. She began to glow a bright sunshine yellow and Sunny smiled. If this was the last thing she’d see, she was fine with that. “Let go of what the Nimm women did so many years ago. Honor your word today!” Anyanwu shouted.
The bubble collapsed, and Sunny was squeezed so tightly that everything dimmed. She closed her mouth to keep the water out, but it seemed her lips were pried apart. Water pushed itself into her mouth, down her throat. She was yanked downward and then . . .
Udide crept closer. Sunny lifted her head up, feeling sore all over. As she sat up, she could feel sea water sloshing in her belly. The ghazal was in her lap; she pushed it off her. A cramp ached in her side. She looked around, her mouth tasting like seawater. She was back in the weeds with the dead palm tree. Chichi was stuck to its trunk, held there by spider webbing. “Sunny!” she screeched. “Are you all right? Udide! Please!”
Sunny slowly got up. Everything in her wanted to sob, but she held it in. She could barely stand up straight. But even hunched forward, she held her chin up.
“Fear,” Udide said, drawing the word out. “I can feel her fear.” She was close enough that the smoky scent of her breath actually evoked images in Sunny’s mind of large homes in a suburb all on fire. Burning upholstery, plastic, wood, insulation, plaster, cement, clothes.
“So?” Sunny said, angry. She picked up the ghazal. “Why shouldn’t she be afraid? They were her relatives and they tried to kill her. Then you . . . you’re the Great Udide, and you play around with promises! You play with life!” She gingerly stepped closer to Udide. The sloshing in her belly made her feel nauseous. “We did what you asked. Brought what you asked. Please! Just take it!” The ghazal began to glow in her hands and the scratchy feeling of the Nsibidi against her skin intensified.
“Put it on the soil,” Udide said, cool and even. Sunny did so, and the thing began to writhe like a coiled snake. It kept its infinity loop shape as it rolled, smooth like water, toward Udide. It wrapped around one of her legs and attached itself like a leg band. Its glow drained from it, returning to its usual crystal-white. “Tell the others to never speak my name again . . . unless they are ready for my answer.”
“And you are satisfied?” Sunny pushed herself to ask. This needed to officially be over.
“I am satisfied, Sunny Anyanwu Nwazue.”
Sunny cut Chichi free of the webbing with her juju knife. As Chichi scrambled back, she looked to Udide and asked, “Please, Udide Okwanka, will you bring the Nimm queen back?”
“That was . . . fake news. Mere incentive,” Udide said, her hairs vibrating with mischief.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sunny heard Chichi mutter.
Sunny elbowed her to shut up. “Okay,” Sunny said. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She slowly opened them. “Okay.” The image of the Nimm queen being crushed in the baobab tree had never left Sunny. She was glad it was not real. “That is good,” she said. She patted her chest as she belched; it tasted like seawater.
Udide wriggled her mighty mandibles as she looked at Sunny. “I will be watching,” Udide said. She turned to Chichi. “Your Nimm warrior is a fast thinker. You are lucky.” She paused. “Greet your mother for me.”
She started to turn away from them when Sunny suddenly said, “W-wait! I have a request . . . well, a question . . . something.”
“Sunny,” Chichi said under her breath. “Let us just get out of here.”
But Sunny shook her head. “You are the Great Weaver of Worlds. There is a virus out there. It’s not bad yet, but they’re saying it will be. Can you weave it away?” Sunny paused and then said what she’d been wondering. “Is that why you needed your ghazal back so soon?” She held her breath.
Udide stared at Sunny for several moments. “That is none of my business,” she said. “Humanity will see this through, or it will not. Still . . . it’s good that I now have all my tools.” She retreated from them.
“You think the virus is as bad as they say?” Sunny asked, rubbing her belly as she watched Udide leave. She belched again and felt a little better.
“Yeah. My mom says some older Leopard People have already died from it in China and now Italy and Algeria. It’s coming.”
Udide scrambled to the dead palm tree and used one of her forelegs to scratch symbols into its trunk that looked something like: ≤≥÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷
The moment she stopped, the dead tree began to fall. Sunny and Chichi made a run for it. Its crash into the cluster of trees was a quiet crunch. They were near Sunny’s house when they turned back. When the dust settled, Udide was gone.
In the early morning, Sunny got dressed and took her soccer ball with her. She slipped out the back of the house, and without a glance toward where the dead palm tree had fallen, she made for the road. It was eerily empty, but today it wasn’t because of protests, it was because the country was on lockdown to help prevent the spread of the deadly virus. She’d even heard that the police were out patrolling, making sure people were . . . cooperating. As soon as she could, she took to the side road, then the path behind the school. She could have glided, but she wanted the fresh air. After all that had happened, being outside in the heat and sunshine and quiet was soothing.
When she stepped onto the soccer field, she relaxed. She walked to the center, her sandals crunching on the dry grass. As she walked, she let herself slip, and the dry grass mixed with the bright green wavery grasses of the wilderness. Anyanwu was draped in light with her tribal wooden spirit face of the sun. They sat down across from each other and Sunny rolled her soccer ball to Anyanwu. Anyanwu took it and rolled it back.
“I’m sorry,” Sunny said after they’d rolled the ball back and forth for several minutes. Anyanwu said nothing. She rolled the ball to Sunny. She expected Sunny to do the talking, so Sunny did. “I’ve really thought it through. That’s why I’m sorry. I couldn’t have known, but that doesn’t matter. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”
Anyanwu rolled the ball to her harder than normal and Sunny caught it. She placed it in her lap. “We’ve all been treating you like . . . like a type of mother, a mother who is genius-level amazing and births a child . . . and then everyone expects her to step away from her genius . . . to come down and nurture her baby, to make herself less, so her baby can understand. But that’s not right; amazing mothers should continue being amazing . . . and you’re not my mother, you are me.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “And I am you.” She paused, looking hard at Anyanwu. “I would have been angry, and I would have kept walking away, too. But you also kept coming back. Thank you for that.”
Anyanwu responded aloud and Sunny smiled at this acknowledgment. “Because I am you, Sunny,” she said. “And you are right. You all—you, Sugar Cream, Sasha, Chichi, Orlu, Anatov, even the Mami Wata oracle Bola—you’ve all viewed me as the one who must come down to you. But it is YOU who must come UP to meet ME.”
Sunny nodded. “I am a free agent, yet within a year, I had to face Ekwensu. Then again in Osisi. Udide knows me on a first-name basis. I am a Nimm warrior. Mami Wata herself has given me a gift. I have broken kola with Chukwu. Come to know the wilderness well, stopped time . . .”
“And you looked a masquerade in its eyes, its soul,” Anyanwu said. “And you did not turn away; you stole its purse.”
They gazed at each other. Sunny could feel it. In her mind, since leaving the Power House, she’d started referring to the feeling as “a glow-up.” She’d done all those amazing things, sometimes by accident, in a panic, out of desperation, or while being courageous . . . but she’d done them. However, it was all aligned now. Solid. Clear. Strong.
“You have come up to meet me,” Anyanwu said. “Ajofia helped you feel it, to understand.” She glowed so brightly that Sunny could see nothing but light. Sunny shut her eyes, basking in her glow. They would be more comfortable now.
“I know we are called free agent and doubled,” Sunny said. She pushed up her glasses. “But we will name ourselves now.”
Anyanwu smiled.