PAIN. ANGER. REGRET.I felt his emotions, every single part of it, as the Red matron who personally oversaw his interrogation tortures him again and again, taking him just to the brink of oblivion only to drag him back from falling into the darkness. Green vines bound his hands and legs, splaying him wide in the air in nothing but his boxer shorts, and his body shivered as pain racked through him with each slightest movement. His screams resounded loud as the red matron did something to him for some long minutes before stopping.I watched everything from the shadows, unable to move, speak, or even let loose of the floodgate of tears locked behind my eyes and vent the thick stifling pain which smothered me. He refused to speak despite whatever they did to him, refused to betray his friends.An image flashed through my mind—his mind. It was his late grandmother, Iya Agba. I looked at her with familiarity like I have known her for years, feeling from

In Kudaisi's head IT’S TWO DAYS since he got back home with Iya Agba. The police come around to take statements the very day they return. He forces himself to look blank all through the meeting as if lost, but it is only to suppress the restlessness from the hunger and scalding thirst ravaging me—no easy feat that.Iya Agba attends to them, simply telling them I lost his memory and cannot remember much, and that a Good Samaritan found him by the roadside with his wallet which contained her number, helping him find his way back home.The policemen only direct looks of pity his way before leaving, promising to come again for more information. THey know they wouldn’t be back and only said they would for effect. The bus he boarded at the park in Lagos has still not been found, and according to the police I might just be the only survivor of a ritualist kidnapping which is not so unusual in this part of the world, and

Kudaisi growled, fighting against the invisible shackles that bound him to no avail.Yeye Omo chortled softly as she eased herself away from him and stood to her feet, using her left hand to wipe the blood trailing down her lips.Kudaisi continued his struggles against the invisible shackle to no effect.“To say I had to use this before I could stop you. You should be proud.” There was a horn in Yeye Omo’s right hand which she raised us. The horn was long with spirals like a bull’s horn. It was wrapped in black and red cloth with cowries and dry leaves around it, and it shined dimly even under the soft yellow glow of the lamps, oozing smoke from its top.“Do you know what I had to do to get this five hundred years Áse?” Yeye Omo inquired, looking grim. “It took years and years of service to get something this powerful. Long years of service, and I doubt there are many charms of its caliber around.&

The sound of hooting precedes Iya Agba’s arrival as she enters as a bird before morphing back into human.“I am sorry for keeping you waiting,” Iya Agba says, etching a low bow.  “Let’s get this done quickly, I have somewhere else I must be.” Busari stands to his feet. “Where are the goat and the pigeons?”“They are out at the backyard, let me get them.” Yeye Omo stands to her feet and totters wildly. She is saved by the wall behind her which she leans heavily on. Giving her witch’s bead to Busari for the sacrifice had weakened her a lot.“Yeye Omo!” Iya Agba hurries to her side.“I’m okay.” Yeye Omo wards Iya Agba away with her hand.Busari sighs and points his staff to the floor before him. A midnight black goat and seven pigeons appear out of thin air. “No need, I’ve gotten them.”Kudaisi gawked at Busari, surpris