The wraiths had arranged themselves in a semicircle behind Idir, their red hearts pulsing as one. Malik waited for Leila to snap at him that the things in his head couldn’t hurt him and provide some confirmation that this wasn’t really happening. But Leila was focused only on Idir, her arm still extended protectively over her siblings.
“I-i-it is an honor to stand before you, Your Majesty,” Leila forced out. Just looking at his sister staring down an actual monster with no weapon or shield gave Malik the strength to finally look up as well.
“What are you?” asked Nadia, her lip wobbling, and the creature’s eyes narrowed on her.
“What do you think I am, child?”
“A monster.”
Idir huffed. “An astute observation. I believe I am what your people call an obosom.”
“Please, Your Majesty, we did not mean to intrude upon your domain,” said Leila as Malik tried to recall everything he knew about the abosom. They were a kind of nature spirit tied to one particular location, like a river or a mountain, lesser in power than the patron deities but still stronger than the average spirit. In the old stories, they demanded the respect of humans who lived near their homes, and they were known to be deadly if they felt they had not received it. However, Malik had never heard of Idir before.
Leila continued, “Please let us go on our way.”
“I would do that, if not for her.” Idir pointed a single iron-colored claw directly at Nadia, who whimpered and buried her face in Malik’s shoulder. “She received a gift of magic while on my land, and for that, she must deliver payment.”
That was completely absurd. Nadia hadn’t used any . . . Malik gasped. The storytelling circle. The chipekwe had been perfectly docile until Nadia made her wish to Nyeni. His stomach churned, this time with indignation instead of fear.
“She only made that wish because the griot offered it to her!” exclaimed Leila.
“The reasoning is irrelevant,” said Idir. “What matters is that the wish was granted. As it is written in the Ancient Laws, any person whose request is granted through magic on my land must pay tribute to me. The girl got what she wanted. Now she is mine to take.” The obosom cast a sweeping glance over Malik and Leila. “You two, however, are free to go.”
“Take her wish back,” Leila pleaded as Malik clutched Nadia more tightly. “We’ll return outside the wall same as before.”
The spirit’s eyes flashed with amusement. “That is not how this works.”
Idir made a grabbing motion with his hand, and pain shot through Malik’s arms. Nadia shrieked, her body wrenching toward the spirit as if tied to him by an unseen thread. Malik held on to her with all he had, but the pain proved too great, and he was forced let go, Nadia flying through the air as if she weighed no more than a doll. Leila lunged for their sister, but several wraiths shoved her back.
Nadia hung suspended in the air, her dark hair fanning out beneath her and her wails piercing the night. Her screams were what made Malik realize this was no lie or trick—no hallucination could make his sister cry out with such pain. Fighting back a sob, he raced through his cluttered thoughts for something, anything that might save Nadia.
Everything he knew of monsters, he knew because of the old stories.
And in the old stories, monsters could be beaten.
“Wait!” shouted Malik as Idir reached for Nadia.
The obosom paused. “Yes?”
“A deal . . .” Malik’s voice cracked. With a cough, he continued, “What if we make a deal with you?”
“What could you possibly have to offer that I would want?”
“Anything at all. Name your price, and we’ll meet it.” A voice in his head that sounded disturbingly like Papa’s urged him to stop talking before he made everything worse, but Malik kept going. “If we succeed, you’ll let her go and leave us alone.”
“Interesting. And when you fail?”
“If we fail, you get not only Nadia but me as well.” Both Malik’s voice and body shook as he spoke. “You have nothing to lose. If we succeed, you get something you want. If we fail, you get two of us for no work.”
A line had formed between Leila’s brows; Malik could tell that his older sister did not like his proposition at all. Yet for once, instead of berating him, she stayed silent, her wide eyes dancing between him and Idir.
Malik curled and uncurled his hands, aching to twist his satchel strap. The stars overhead trembled as Idir stepped around Nadia’s hovering body until he and Malik were inches apart.
“Are you willing to do whatever I ask, without even knowing what you’ve agreed to?”
Malik gazed at the creature curved over him, connected through the fragile bond formed between predator and prey the moment before the kill. Beneath the fear and the confusion in Malik’s heart was another emotion, a stronger form of the force that had stirred within him when he’d heard Nyeni’s call. The sheer intensity of it scared him, and Malik pushed it down, then met the obosom’s eyes.
“I’m willing to do anything.”
Idir extended a clawed hand, and it took Malik a moment to realize he meant for him to shake it. “Seal your promise with a blood oath.”
A blood oath was the highest promise a person could make, and going against one would stop a person’s heart. Every part of Malik screamed for him to refuse the bargain, but he took one look at Nadia’s frail form and grasped Idir’s hand. The creature’s skin was unnaturally warm, like a piece of meat left in the sun for too long.
“I promise to fulfill any task you ask of me, no matter what it may be.”
Idir’s eyes darkened. “A word of advice, boy: never agree to a deal before knowing what the terms are.”
The obosom’s claws pierced Malik’s skin, and a bolt of pain ran up his arm as his blood seeped into Idir’s palm. Where the spirit had made contact with Malik’s skin, there was now the tattoo of a wraith, black as ink and about the size of his closed hand. Malik gaped as the Mark rose from his body and transformed into a curved dagger with a heavy golden pommel. Then the dagger sank back into his skin as a tattoo and slithered under the sleeve of his tunic.
“There is something you can help me with,” said Idir, absentmindedly sifting Malik’s blood through his fingers. “Many centuries ago, long before your grandfather or even your grandfather’s grandfather roamed the world, I made the mistake of trusting Bahia Alahari.”
“The ancient queen Bahia?” asked Malik, his eyes wide.
“No, the moldy sandal Bahia. Yes, the ancient queen! How many other Bahia Alaharis do you know?” Idir snapped. “I lent her my power so she could build her precious city-state and find the underground water that fills Ziran’s wells. And how did she repay me? By banishing me to this Great Mother–damned realm!”
The world around Idir trembled with the force of his words.
“It is thanks to me that Bahia’s descendants have a throne to sit on at all, and they prosper from my sacrifice while I can’t step foot into the mortal realm due to the Barrier they’ve created using my magic. I gave her everything, and she betrayed me!”
As the rage in Idir’s voice built, his humanoid shape destabilized. The spirit flickered into a snake, an eagle, a screaming wraith, a bleeding ghoul. Only his eyes stayed the same, the emotion in them something akin to . . . sorrow, though Malik wasn’t sure what an obosom had to mourn.