| |
The urgent knocking on his door snatched Bissau from a dreamless sleep. His head jerked up; his eyes were wide and blinking although he still could not see. He rubbed them with his fists and vision returned. The features of his room took shape in the dim light of his computer monitor. For a moment he couldn’t remember why he sat before the foul contraption until the image of the hotel filling the screen jarred his thoughts. He had found where Alake and her granddaughter were staying, but he was so tired after he found it he fell asleep at the desk.
The door thumped again.
“Coming!” he shouted. He trudged to the door and opened it without peering through the peephole.
“Yes?” he said. The hallway light blurred his view.
“Perfect,” the voice replied.
“What are you ...by the ancestors!”
Bissau was looking at himself. The other Bissau was dressed more like the French, but the face was an exact copy of his. Before he could speak the other Bissau shoved him back into the room and slammed the door.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” the doppelganger said. “You’re too handsome to harm.” He opened his hand and revealed a white pouch.
“Take this,” he said.
Danger cleared Bissau’s mind. He slapped the mysterious twin’s hand away and kicked him in the chest, knocking him across the room and into the door. His twin looked stunned for a minute then leered at him.
“You’re quick, too,” He approached Bissau like a lion moving on a rival cat. “Too bad it has to be this way. I might have to damage that pretty face.”
The doppelganger lunged at Bissau. The young warrior immediately snapped a kick but his opponent was gone. Bissau’s supporting leg was swept from under him and he crashed onto the floor. He rolled away before the knee meant for his chest came down, pushing up with his hands and crouching low. His second attack was more successful; his fist grazed his attacker’s face, knocking him against the bed. He leapt at the interloper and was engulfed by a cloud of white dust. Feeling left his body and he crashed face first into the floor.
He couldn’t feel the hands that turned him onto his back. The mirror image of his face looked at him with true regret.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “But I think your nose is broken. I’m sorry.”
The face vibrated and twisted; suddenly Bissau was looking upon a woman’s face, a countenance from his home. It was Aisha, the shape shifter. She leaned close to him and kissed him on the cheek.
“Such a beautiful boy,” she whispered. “Maybe Bagule will let me have you once Marai is his.”
Her face contorted back to his form. He watched her saunter to the computer.
“Excellent!” she exclaimed. “This is exactly what I was searching for. Thank you, Bissau. Rest well. Once this is done I will come back for you. This will be my city, and you will be mine, too.”
She kissed him one more time and left him paralyzed on the floor. He made a promise as she closed the door. The next time he saw Aisha, he would kill her.