After ringing the doorbell, I placed my palm on the perimeter wall and the wards hummed like Kid Cudi. A less powerful sorcerer must've cast them. I spotted several weak points that could be used to take them down within seconds.
"Amateurs." I scoffed.
The preachers could've asked a seasoned sorcerer to help them, but their hatred towards us must've made them think we were all the same. Anyone could conjure a protection spell and it would have the same power, right? Mxiu! The disrespect.
The wicket opened, revealing two dark-skinned security guards in black uniforms and boots, carrying automatic rifles across their chests and metallic batons on their hips. Hmph! Like the weapons could harm me. They also reeked of sweat, seeming to have spent all day under the sun.
The tallest one beckoned me to follow him while the other closed the door.
A yellow tent—the length and width of the perimeter wall—stood to the left, with two Ferraris and Lamborghinis under it.
If you asked the preachers where they got the money to buy the expensive cars, they would say from God. It was crazy how they used "God" to dodge valid questions, especially concerning where their parishioners' money went when they've been building their church for years. But because Africans feared God, the moment the preachers brought him up, the people stopped inquiring.
The tall guard led me to the back of the house, where there was a one-room building to its right, before leaving. The building had a wooden door with the word "TOILET" written in white at its center. It must've been for the guards to use.
The house's backdoor opened, and a brown-skinned woman in a white flowery dress walked out. She had brown eyes and a buzz cut. "Welcome, Binti Nasra." She smiled. "I'm Suzie, the house girl."
"Nice to meet you, Suzie." I shook her hand.
"Come in." She stepped aside, then closed the door after I entered, finding myself in the kitchen. It was hot in there.
A pot of stew sat on the stove to my right, its smell covering the room and making my stomach growl. Beside it were two other pots with glass lids: one had rice and the other vegetables.
She led me out of the kitchen and into a long, empty hallway with a doorless room on each side and a staircase at the end. "Mr. and Mrs. Bendera will be with you shortly. You can wait in the waiting room," she pointed to the room on the left, "with your partner."
"Partner?" I curled my lip. I had employees, not a partner or partners. Aisha and Preacher Boy worked for me, not with me. I built my business alone. No one—not even my family—had contributed a cent. "I don't have a partner."
Suzie frowned. "Really? She arrived an hour ago, saying she was your partner and that you'd be late."
Someone was fucking with me. The whole sorcerer community knew I didn't do the whole "having a partner" shtick because it would hold me back. I did things alone; quick and simple. Working with others brought complications like having to look out for them. I didn't want that. I had my own back—made it easier not to be stabbed.
"Is she still in there?" I asked.
She nodded. "I'll fetch you when the preachers come downstairs."
After watching her return to the kitchen, I entered the waiting room and found this "partner" of mine sitting on a brown couch with her long legs crossed and arms spread apart. She looked comfortable. Too comfortable for someone who didn't live here.
A wide-brimmed sun hat and sunglasses hid her face, while the long black coat she wore grazed the floor. Upon noticing me, she stood and removed the hat and sunglasses, revealing her bright green eyes and thick eyelashes.
I snarled, remembering Brenda's descriptions of the necromancer. "Esther Bennet."
Esther smiled. "Nice to finally meet you, Binti Nasra."
Dammit! What was she doing here? Did she want to fight? Now? Why couldn't we do this outside? I balled my hands. "What do you want?"
She crossed her arms. "Is that how you greet your partner?"
With gritted teeth, I said, "I don't have a partner."
"I know. It's sad. We'd make a great team." She walked towards me. I stood in a fighting stance with raised fists, and she raised her hands in response. "I'm not here to fight you."
"Then what are you doing here?"
She dropped her hands and returned to the couch. "We both know the only time the archangels can manipulate the cosmos is during a full moon, which is days away. So until then, I'm not interested in fighting you."
"Then why send the vana to Mama Joni's house? Or ask Brenda to give you personal information about me?"
"Because I wanted to fuck with you, Binti. I'm in a new country, alone, and bored. Can't I have some fun?"
I crossed my hands on my chest. "Go to the club."
"Clubs are overrated."
"Go watch a movie."
"Nothing good is out."
"Go to the beach."
"I hate water."
"Go to a hotel."
"I don't what to hear people having sex all day and night." She smirked.
I wanted to smack the smile off her face. And people called me arrogant? Whew! They hadn't met Esther. I always heard necromancers thought they were untouchable, but seeing it firsthand was something else. Esther exuded cockiness. Like she knew she had already won our upcoming fight and was letting me use moon magic for the last time before taking it and my life.
Also, she was annoying. She had an answer for everything. Mxiu!
"I know you've figured out the messages from the vana and Hussein weren't meant for you," she said. "So, how was Uriel? Has she picked a side yet?"
"How do you know I spoke to Uriel?"
She scoffed. "Each archangel has a distinct smell, correlating with the odor of the deadly sins they birthed. Also, Rem told me it would happen."
"And how do you know what the deadly sins smell like?"
A smile danced on her lips. "I met them."
"What do you mean, you met them?"
She gave me a half-shrug.
"Oh, that's how it's going to be, huh?"
Esther threw her head back and laughed. "As Brenda says, information for information. If you have nothing to tell me, then I have nothing to tell you."
"Fair enough." I sat on the sofa opposite her, glanced up at the wooden ceiling, and stared at the spinning fan.
"Are you giving me the silent treatment?" she asked.
I turned to her, seeing she now sat on the floor, having taken off her coat. "We're too old for the silent treatment."
"You're too old. I'm not."
I narrowed my eyes. "How old are you?"
"Hey!" She wiggled her finger at me. "You should never ask a woman her age."
"We're all women here."
"Oh." Her eyes lit up, as if it was the first time she had realized it. I couldn't help but chuckle. Honestly, she seemed kinda fun. In a different life, we might have been good friends. Sadly, this was our reality. And in a few days, one of us would die. Definitely her.
"Since we're in a talkative mood, why do you want moon magic? Necromancy is powerful on its own."
She leaned her head back on the cushion and sighed. "Not when your enemies have it too. It becomes easy to counter. With moon magic in my arsenal, I'll power up and help innocent people. Unlike you."
"Ouch." I placed my hand on my chest. Her comment stung. She knew nothing about me or the thousands of people I helped. If I bragged about it, then people would say I'm looking for praise. And if I kept quiet, then they wouldn't know about all the innocent lives I had saved and say I helped nobody. So, fuck 'em. "When the time comes and you realize you can't beat me, I promise to kill you quickly."
"I wouldn't ask for anything else." Esther smiled while staring at the fan. "I planted a listening device in the auto-rickshaw and heard you telling Hussein to bring you here. Curiosity got the better of me, and I researched the preachers. After finding out they lost their daughter, I suspected that was the reason you were meeting them. I wanted to see the insanity occult detectives deal with."
"Why? You want to be one of us?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." She shrugged.
"Well, sit back and enjoy the show. Because if my gut is right, something fucked up is going on with these preachers. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."