Stones of Nairobi Read online

  “Yes, she is,” a voice purred from behind me.

  Glancing over my shoulder, Dr. Cricket gasped, stumbled backward and uttered a word that sounded like, “Eeep.”

  I patted the inventor on the arm before turning to face Koki.

  Leaning against the doorway that led to the back of the house, Koki eyed the bow, a satisfied smirk gracing her features. “You must admit, Miss Knight, that this is a far more impressive tool than any you have in your weaponry.”

  While I despised admitting to any of her suggestions, I was forced, by my obvious admiration for the bow, to do just that.

  However, I was prevented from having to thank her by the fortuitously timed fainting of Dr. Cricket. His head thudded against the floor, thus distracting me from Koki’s gloating. His unfortunate condition also provided me an excuse to forgo any display of gratitude her generosity would normally require.

  Then again, since when was a demon ever unconditionally generous? While I covered Dr. Cricket with a blanket, I mulled over my predicament: by accepting the bow, I was once again indebted to my enemy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “KOKI MAY BE a bloodthirsty, mass murderer,” I mused while sitting in a leather love seat across from Father in the warm, cozy library that was his dayroom, “but she does know a thing or two about design.”

  “Is there any other sort?” Father asked, gazing at me in bemusement, his long fingers steepled under his chin, his profile lit by a candle.

  “What?” I asked after inhaling some tea.

  Father’s gentle chuckle embraced me. “Mass murderers. Aren’t they always bloodthirsty?”

  I pondered the question and found myself wondering if Koki really was as bloodthirsty as she appeared to be. Shaking the notion away, I frowned over my teacup. “When it comes down to it, lions are mass murders, but they don’t do it out of bloodlust.”

  One of Father’s eyebrows angled up in a manner characteristic of Tiberius. “Lions don’t have any choice in the matter, Beatrice. We do.”

  “That’s debatable,” I said and stroked the bow that was lying across my lap. “It is a beautiful piece of work, though. And its range and power are astonishing.”

  “Why would she give it to you?” Father asked, his features relaxed but his eyes had a suspicious glint in them.

  “Such pesky questions,” I chided, although it was one I had been tackling all day. “Maybe she’s expecting trouble that would best be dispatched with a few arrows.”

  Sighing, Father lowered his elegant hands to his lap, the lines around his mouth and eyes deepening. “Speaking of which, are you determined on joining her in this quest?”

  Shifting my gaze to my tea, I said, “I don’t see that I have a choice in the matter. She can’t enter the Underworld without my assistance, and if I don’t help her, she’ll enroll Lilly in the matter. I can’t allow that.”

  Just the thought of my pregnant cousin having to guide the Mantis into such treacherous territory caused my teeth to grind together.

  After our experience of being possessed by the deceased Mrs. Cricket, Lilly and I had developed the peculiar ability to enter the World of Shadows through which we could access the Underworld. Using that ability, I had escorted Jonas, Yao and Koki into the Underworld to save Jonas’ daughter Wanjiru. In the process, I’d crossed paths with Le-­Eyo, God of Death, and we hadn’t parted on very good terms.

  “I hope we don’t see him this time,” I said and only realized I’d spoken aloud when Father peered at me, bafflement etched into his countenance. “Le­-Eyo,” I clarified. “I hope we don’t run afoul of him again.”

  “So you plan on sneaking into his land to help a prominent soul escape, and you don’t think he’ll notice at all?” Father asked, both eyebrows raised in delicate arches.

  I shrugged. “I can always hope.”

  Clucking at my audacity or foolishness, he sighed again. “What has Mr. Timmons to say on the matter?”

  I squirmed, already fatigued by the questioning. “What he always says: try not to lose another limb.”

  “Sagacious advice,” Father acknowledged. “Let’s pray you follow it.”

  Setting my cup down with an impatient exhale, I demanded, “Why does everyone assume the worst of me?”

  “Because it’s you, dear cousin,” Lilly replied from the doorway as she waddled in.

  Father rose and welcomed his daughter-­in-­law into the room. All I could do was stare at her midriff.

  “Yes, I’m big,” Lilly snapped, tossing her dark curls behind her shoulders. “And my feet are swollen. And I’m as agile as a bloated carcass.”

  “Now, now,” Father soothed.

  “Is this normal?” I gasped. “You’re huge. You appear as if you’re about to pop open.”

  “Beatrice,” Father admonished me as he assisted Lilly to sit on an overstuffed sofa. After settling her and providing a small cushion for her back, he shook a finger at me in a disapproving manner. “Behave.”

  Groaning, Lilly raised her feet onto a stool. Before Father covered them with a blanket, I noted that they were two sizes larger at least.

  “Dr. Ribeiro did say my situation is advancing faster than average,” Lilly admitted. “Then again, what do we know about this girl of mine apart from how wonderfully clever she is?”

  I was on the verge of reminding her that all parents believed their offspring to be more intelligent and beautiful than any other. Before I could, Father cast me a warning look as if he knew I’d blurt out an inappropriate comment. Instead, I retreated to civility.

  “At least the weather is more pleasant despite the rain,” I offered.

  A sardonic expression graced her lovely, tired face. “Yes, and I’m sure Grace is very concerned about the weather.”

  I turned to Father and gestured with my hands, indicating how my politeness had been rebuffed.

  “Girls,” he said, “do make an effort to unite civility and truth. There is no benefit from killing off one in the name of the other.”

  We refrained from speaking for a few minutes, lest we commit the crime again. Although it was early afternoon, the room’s darkness made it easy to believe that night had arrived. Only the numerous candles scattered about the library provided a mellow, wax-scented glow about us.

  Then Lilly broke the silence. “When do you go, Bee?”

  “This evening,” I said, my throat constricting about the word. If Koki had troubled herself to design and commission a new weapon for me, what misadventures awaited us?

  Rather than mulling over the implications, I directed the topic of conversation back to Lilly. “What has Dr. Ribeiro said about your condition?”

  “That I’m healthy,” she replied a tad too sharply. “And so is Grace.”

  “Yes, but is it normal to be so big at only…” I paused and glanced at Father for assistance. “It’s almost mid-May, so it’s what, about four months now?”

  Shifting, Lilly turned her gaze to a candelabra, studying the five flickering flames with an interest they didn’t warrant. “About that.”

  I struggled to recall the few pregnant women I’d met in my lifetime. “Lilly, you look like you’re eight months or more.”

  Her head dropped into her hands. “That’s what Dr. Ribeiro said,” she mumbled.

  Now Father leaned forward, his face creased in concern. “How could that be?”

  Dropping her hands to her lap and glaring at us, her button nose twitching and her blue eyes watering, Lilly snapped, “The child’s half bat and has devoured the remains of Mrs. Cricket’s evil spirit. Don’t you think I have enough with which to contend?” She sniffed as she brushed at her eyes with a trembling hand.

  “Of course,” I said as I quickly went to her side and placed an arm around her shoulder. “Of course you do. We’re just worried.”

  “Well, so am I, Bee,” she said between jerky sobs. “And there’s nothing we can do, nothing at all, except wait and pray. It’s unbearable.”

  I turned
to Father, silently imploring him to say something, anything. Giant insects and flying horses I could tackle, but distraught mothers-to-be were beyond my skills.

  Realizing how hopeless I truly was in such matters, Father reached across and gently gripped one of Lilly’s hands. “There, there, dearest Lilly,” he murmured. “All shall be well. Popobawas are notoriously resilient. Grace will be just fine. You’ll see.”

  The dim lighting disguised the doubt that lingered in Father’s expression, but my werewolf eyes perceived what Lilly could not. Yet the reassurance, however fragile it might be, had the desired effect. After a loud sniff, Lilly calmed herself and shortly thereafter fell asleep, her head leaning on my shoulder. In silence, Father and I sat, each lost in our own dreary thoughts.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “WHY CAN’T I go with you?” Gideon asked, his lips set in a pout as he sulked in a corner of the Hardinge’s library, the book spines barely visible through his translucent form.

  He was pretending to sit upon a coffin. A few minutes previously, Koki had dragged it into the room and positioned it in front of a bookshelf. Splinters of old wood marked out the path she had taken.

  “I tend to concur,” Father murmured, his gaze sliding toward Koki. “I’d much prefer if you were accompanied by a friend.”

  “Or a husband,” Gideon hastened to add. “Even a dead one.”

  Koki stretched herself out on the zebra skin beside me and purred, “I consider Miss Knight to be the dearest of friends.” The snicker that followed was less than reassuring.

  Father crouched by my side, his cool, slender hands gripping my human hand. “My beloved, will you not reconsider?”

  “We’re running out of time,” I said as I allowed myself to be embraced by the tender warmth of his gaze. Gesturing toward the she-demon, I added, “She can’t go in there without my assistance, so I have to do this.”

  “I can ask Tiberius,” he said. “Your brother would never consent to­—”

  I squeezed his hand. “No. Lilly needs him more than I do.” I then proceeded to describe the conditions of my various friends. “Simon is in jail. Dr. Ribeiro’s clinic is full of malaria patients, plus he should be on hand for Lilly. Wanjiru cannot come for obvious reasons, as the God of Death will interpret her return in an unfavorable way, and Jonas won’t abandon her again. You can’t come, for there is sunshine in the Underworld, and Yao has refused to join me.”

  “He mentioned something about not wanting to enter that ugly body ever again,” Koki said and laughed.

  Father and Gideon shared a befuddled reaction, so I explained, “When we enter the Underworld, we’re given bodies that are an exact likeness to our original form. I lose my metal hand.” I clicked the fingers of my left hand together, the wolf energy glowing faintly within. “In its place is my flesh-­and-­blood hand. Jonas lost all his wrinkles and gray hair.”

  “And Yao, that handsome bloodsucker, received a scrawny, ugly corpse of a body instead,” Koki said and cackled gleefully.

  “Koki,” I rebuked her but couldn’t restrain my smile at the memory of Yao’s disgust and outrage at his diminished body.

  “I wonder what sort of form I’d receive,” Gideon mused.

  “A handsome one, I’m sure,” Koki cooed.

  A thoughtful expression soothed Father’s features. “If that’s true, then perhaps I would receive my pre­-vampire body.”

  Pushing up against my elbows, I ignored the itchy zebra hair prickling my skin and said, “We can’t take that risk, Father. I could never forgive myself if you were exposed to your death on my behalf.”

  “And I­—” he began but I interrupted him by placing my hand against his cheek.

  “You will protect me while I slumber,” I said softly. “Please.”

  Closing his eyes as if in pain, Father wordlessly conceded to my request, the greatest reluctance evident in his every line and limb. Standing up, he retreated to a chair and sat, his gaze fixed upon me as if he wished to memorize my appearance lest I disappear forever.

  “Besides,” I added, trying to inject a lighter tone into the conversation, “someone has to make sure Nurse Manton doesn’t open Liongo’s coffin.” I gestured to the corner.

  Father frowned at the reminder. “Why couldn’t it be left outside? The wood is about to disintegrate into dust at any moment.”

  I twisted slightly to view the dark wood. It didn’t so much resemble a coffin as it did the trunk of a tree with the bark shaved off. I marveled that Koki had managed to drag it from where she’d exhumed it. A preserving chemical had been thickly coated across the wood but still the structure would not have endured for too many more years before releasing its contents into the earth.

  The contents were the body of a long-­dead warrior ­poet.

  “Why not indeed?” I asked.

  “Shall we, Miss Knight?” Koki said in a bored tone.

  Gideon floated to my other side, his expression unreadable. “Come back,” he whispered. “Or Mr. Timmons will never forgive us.”

  Rather than answer and risk exposing the tremble in my heart and the constriction in my throat, I nodded once, clutched my new bow and quiver to my chest, closed my eyes and sunk into the World of Shadows.

  Every passage into that lightless and frozen space reminded me of the encounter I’d experienced with Mrs. Cricket in the early days of my life in Nairobi. A ghastly creature, the demented spirit of Dr. Cricket’s deceased wife had been determined to possess my body. In the process, she’d banished me to that hellish place.

  Upon opening my eyes, I saw the immense darkness pushing down around Koki and me. Only the glow of my metal hand provided some light and relief. Grateful for the reassuring weight of the bow, I stood, and Koki did the same.

  “Now where?” I asked. Despite the sense of being in a vast rock cavern, there was no echo. Instead, the air stifled all noise and light and life itself.

  “Visualize the bridge,” Koki answered, her features not betraying the slightest trepidation.

  “Didn’t Le­-Eyo destroy the bridge to the Underworld when he tried to stop our escape during our previous visit?” I queried.

  Koki snorted, her lips rising into a smirk. “The fool had to repair it after, for how else can he travel back and forth?”

  As I had little experience in such matters, I couldn’t venture to answer. Instead, I focused on the bridge while aimlessly walking. Within a few steps, the bridge and the dark river appeared ahead of us. Without Yao complaining and moaning about the dangers of getting wet, we traversed the wooden path with no issue.

  The moment I stepped onto the ground on the other side, my metal hand was replaced by a live­­ version, and my wolf energy departed from my body and solidified by my side in the form of a large, silver wolf. Koki remained unchanged.

  “It worked,” someone breathed behind me.

  I spun about just as Koki said, “Of course you came.”

  “Oh, bother,” I said, my voice faint.

  Gideon stood before me, his feet firmly on the ground, his light brown eyes wide with awe, a smile of wonderment wreathed across his face. He slapped his chest with both hands, the thump of flesh against shirt-covered flesh clearly audible.

  “Beatrice,” he said as he raised his chin. His voice was no longer a whispery breeze but a delightful baritone. “I’m back. I’m alive.”

  Unable to speak, I gawked at him, at his solidity, his physical presence overwhelming my ability to formulate a sentence.

  Koki cleared her throat in the silence and said, “No, you’re not. You’re still very much dead. But I’m happy to reinforce your deadness. Decapitation works well as a reminder.”

  “No,” I blurted out and stretched an arm toward Koki, although she hadn’t moved to implement her threat.

  “Beatrice,” Gideon said again, a dreamy expression overcoming his features as he regarded me with a hopeful expression.

  A ping of anxiety caused me to take a step back. “We need to go,” I blur
ted out and spun away from him, trying to ignore the confused hurt in his eyes. I started toward the forest.

  “We’re not going that way, Miss Knight,” Koki called to me in a bemused tone.

  When I turned to face her, her gaze shifted between Gideon and me. I didn’t appreciate the knowing look and cleared my throat forcibly.

  Grinning, she gestured to the water. “I hope you can swim,” she said, her expression communicating otherwise.

  “If the current isn’t too strong,” I said.

  “Relax,” Koki murmured as she tilted her head in my direction. “Just sink into the water and let it carry you. Fight it or try to swim over it, and you’ll drown.”

  Still giddy over his newly acquired body, Gideon stood by the riverbank, patting his arms. “What’s a little swim, eh, Beatrice?”

  “Indeed.” Bestowing on him a tight smile, I joined him, studying the uninviting water. Its flow was sluggish, as if it was made of a more viscous liquid than water. Given the dark red sheen on the surface, I shuddered as I pondered what it could be.

  To distract myself, I added, “I hope this poet is worth the bother.”

  “And how will we find him?” Gideon asked as he attempted to take my hand in his; I side-stepped his efforts.

  Koki glided between the two of us. “I strongly suspect he’ll be waiting for us,” she said.

  Before I could question her on this ominous statement, she put a hand on each of us and shoved us into the river. Dark, warm, heavy liquid overwhelmed me. It was all I could do to keep my eyes and mouth closed. I kicked upward and instead sunk further down.

  Sink into the water and let it carry you. Fight it and you’ll drown.

  Koki’s words whispered through my mind. Going against all instinct, I ceased my struggles to reach the surface, forcing my indignant limbs to relax. As I did so, I rose to the surface and gulped at the humid, compost-scented air. A gasp by my side reassured me that Gideon too had done as he’d been instructed, which only proved that there was a first time for everything.