Moon Shadow

17

I nodded.

David's death seemed to shock everyone, seeing how powerful he was. The Supreme Leaders loved him, and they thought he had the potential to become one of them. So the fact someone had killed him with ease, and no one knew who it was, left most a bit on the edge. It wasn't surprising everyone seemed itchy for a fight—even me.

"Binti Nasra," a raspy voice called.

I turned to see Mr. Simon, my late father's best friend. They used to compete to see who could exorcise the most demons per month in their youth. Baba always smiled when he reminisced about the "good old days" and how thankful he was for not taking anything for granted.

At nearly seventy-five years old, Mr. Simon looked great with his grey hair and wrinkleless face. Though he was slimmer than before, he had a straight figure, unlike most people his age who had slouched.

"Uncle, it's good to see you." I hugged him, the smell of cigarette smoke glued to his clothes. He smoked more than anyone I knew. I once saw him finish four packs in one day. Baba had said Mr. Simon used to smoke ten packs per day back then.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Good."

He stared at me for a moment, making me check myself for anything out of place. Crows loved shitting on people and cawing off to their friends like they had won a trophy, so I needed to make sure I hadn't been their target.

"Is it true?" he asked.

"About what?"

"The necromancer."

I sighed. Of course, he knew. And if he did, then the whole sorcerer community knew too. Thanks a lot, Brenda. There was no one else who'd tell him. Though an Asian sorcerer with no connections in the country, coming here and walking around like she owned the place, would raise suspicion and make people find out who she was.

"Do you want help?" he added.

Sorcerers had three types of magic: Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary. Primary was the one you were born with, while the latter two you got through learning and training. Unless someone gained a power-stocking ability—like me—every sorcerer had only three abilities.

Mr. Simon's primary magic was necromancy, like Esther. But just because sorcerers had similar abilities didn't mean they used them in the same way. Each magic attribute was special to its user, and its application would never be the same—even if they tried. It was why I hadn't sought him out when I found out a necromancer was after me. It was useless.

"I can handle it," I replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." I smiled. "Trust me."

His lips thinned. "Those were the same words your father said to me before he died." He tsked. "If only I knew who killed him."

My heart rate slowed, and a chill ran down my body, raising the hair on my arms. I gulped, wondering if I should tell him or not. If there was anyone who could assist me in this matter, it was him. He had gathered trustful friends and allies all over the world who'd die for him if he asked.

"I know..." I wheezed. "I know... I know who killed him."

"Killed who?" Mr. Simon tilted his head, confusion coating his face.

"Baba. I know who killed Baba."

He chuckled. "You with your jokes." He laughed harder. "This is the first time I laughed today. Thank you for that." He rubbed the tears from his eyes.

"I'm not joking." I pursed my lips.

I knew how hard it was for him to believe me. Baba was like a brother to him. They had been through too much for me to make jokes. Mr. Simon had done everything in his power to find out who had killed Baba and ended up empty-handed. For me to come here many years later and tell him I knew Baba's killer sounded like a fallacy.

"Binti."

"Yes."

"I don't like the look on your face."

"What look?"

"The serious look. I don't like it." He shook his head. "You're joking. I know you are. It's what you do. It's who you are. You're good at it. Everyone knows it."

Tears welled in my eyes. "Not this time, Uncle."

Mr. Simon frowned and grabbed my arm, his nails digging into my skin. Anymore harder and they'd draw blood. He dragged me to the side, away from prying ears. "You better not be playing with me, girl. I've spent years searching for the killer and didn't find a single clue. Care to explain how you did it?"

"Do you know about Joshua and Nuru Bendera?"

"The dead Lutheran preachers?" His forehead creased.

"Yes, them. Apparently, they had sacrificed their daughter to a secret group called The Fellowship. And that group is the one that killed Baba."

Mr. Simon released my arm from his grip and nearly collapsed before I caught him. I took him under a tree for shade, and he leaned on it. Sweat coated his face: his eyes widened, and his mouth hung ajar.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't understand why they'd kill him. It makes little sense."

"Who?"

"The Fellowship. Why would they kill your father?"

"Why wouldn't they? They're evil."

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "They couldn't have killed him, Binti. Your father was a trusted member of The Fellowship."