The next morning, Lucifer's favor consumed my thoughts while I left for work. Had I officially chosen a side by accepting his offer? I wanted nothing to do with the upcoming Heavenly War II. But it seemed no matter how hard I tried staying away from it, as long as I had moon magic, I either had to choose a side willingly or I'd be forced into one.
I arrived at Samora Avenue, near the Askari Monument—a bronze statue erected by the British in 1927 in memory of African troops who fought against the German Army in East Africa during World War 1.
"Binti," Samantha called me from inside her electronic store. She was a skinny, dark-skinned woman with red box braids. "How are you?"
"I'm good. You?"
"I caught my husband with our new maid last night. Other than that, I'm good." The tears in her eyes said otherwise.
Damn. This was the third time she found her husband with a maid. She had fired the previous two after he promised to not do it again. But if I was a gambler, I'd bet he swore it wouldn't happen a fourth time.
I entered her store and hugged her over the glass counter. "Everything will be fine."
Samantha sniffled, then rubbed off the tears flowing down her face. "I know."
"Please, tell me you left him this time."
There were many women in Samantha's situation. It took a lot of strength and courage to leave. Divorce wasn't common in Tanzania, and societal pressure forced people to stay in loveless marriages.
"I did." She cleared her throat. "I'm staying with my sister right now."
"Good." I looked around the store and noticed Benard and Halima weren't at their counters. "Where are your workers?"
"They went to get food."
"Let me guess; they want you to eat your heartache away?"
Samantha smiled. "Yes."
I chuckled. "Alright. If you need me, you know where I'm at."
"Ok."
I showed her the peace sign. "Stay safe."
"You too."
I walked to my office building next door. Above the entrance were the words BINTI'S AID IN THE OCCULT: B.A.O. in short. It was a catchy phrase as "bao" was Swahili slang for "goal". And since Tanzania was a football-loving country, I couldn't pass up the opportunity for free promotion.
Upon entering the building, the AC hit me first, chasing away the heat from outside. I removed my sunglasses and hat and placed them in my handbag.
"Morning, Boss," Aisha said from behind her desk, wearing a white hijab and a red shirt. She was my secretary. "How are you feeling?" She smiled, revealing her fangs. Also, she was a nine-hundred-year-old vampire.
"Like shit," I said.
"So, a normal feeling then?"
I scoffed. "Yes." Smart ass.
"How did it go with Mama Joni?"
"Horrible. The vana had already eaten Joni's soul by the time I got there."
"That's terrible." Aisha had a soft spot for children. When she was a human, she had a lot of them. Too many to count... or care to know about. But then, one day she fetched water from a river and got bit by an unknown aquatic animal, infecting her with the virus that turned her into a vampire. When she returned home, her blood lust made her murder her entire family and tribe. Once she got herself under control, guilt made her bury herself until I dug her up a few years ago after hearing about her from a vampire hunter. "I sense there's more to the story."
I sat on her desk and told her what happened the previous night.
"Does that mean you don't have moon magic anymore?" she asked.
I frowned. "If I didn't have it, then I wouldn't have the tattoos."
Every sorcerer and their mother knew what it took to possess sun or moon magic. The clergy knew it too, and they hated that Mawu—Moon Goddess—hadn't chosen one of them to carry her power. If they only knew I got it because of Lucifer, and Mawu didn't give two shits who had it. All she cared about was being a pain in the ass to whoever controlled her power.
"Why haven't you consumed your soul?"
"I still need moon magic. I'll eat my soul when I'm about to die so I can reach the pearly gates." Aisha didn't need to know about Lucifer's favor. Some things were better off as secrets to protect her.
Aisha chuckled. "You think you're destined for Heaven?"
"With all the lives I've saved? I better be." Or else I'll beat every Grim Reaper's ass.
"Good morning, Binti Nasra." Juma Hamisi, aka Preacher Boy, entered the office, making me turn his way. He was a five-foot-eight young man with dark skin and an afro—there was always a wide-tooth comb in his hair. I called him Preacher Boy because his father was a preacher. He started working for me as an occult detective after I saved him and others from a pack of werelions at a zoo during the Saba Saba fair.
Unlike me, Preacher Boy was a rare type of sorcerer known as Traveler.
Travelers used teleportation magic, but it worked in a fucked up way. Their magic only worked in one direction: forward or backward. Not both. If they went forward, then they needed another traveler to return them—and vice versa. It was why travelers worked in pairs. One focused on the future, and the other on the past.
Thankfully, Preacher Boy had a partner in crime. That was—
"Hello, bitches!" Zainab shouted as she entered the building.
I sighed. Of course, she's here.
Zainab was an occult detective, Preacher Boy's partner in crime and, for the moment, his girlfriend. She loved reading comic books and watching superhero movies and TV shows. And like her boyfriend, she was one of three travelers in the city, working for Anthony "Handsome Sorcerer" David—the third traveler—who owned an agency that helped sorcerers find jobs.
"Binti, you look terrible," Zainab said. "Is loneliness finally getting to you?"
Zainab loved reminding me I was single. She was one of those people who believed single people weren't happy. It explained why she jumped from one man to another, hoping to trick one into marrying her.
"Your eyes are deceiving you, Zainab. I'm not surprised. Your eyesight is as poor as your taste in men."
"Hey!" Preacher Boy raised his arms in protest.
I looked at him. "You know what I mean."
Zainab narrowed her eyes at Preacher Boy. "Do you know what she means?"
Preacher Boy glanced between us, cleared his throat, then went to his desk at the corner of the room. Coward.
Zainab looked at me, rolled her eyes, then followed him.
Dammit. It was like I was back in high school when Zainab was around. I had tried the whole "women should be friends and support one another" shtick with her and failed. Sometimes bitches were bitches, and you had to call them out on it. The only way to deal with a mean girl was by being a meaner girl. Even if two wrongs didn't make a right.
I left the reception and entered my office, the open curtain allowing the sun's light to brighten the room. Aisha loved cleaning the office when she arrived early in the morning. I told her she didn't have to, but she insisted, saying she had nothing better to do that early.
Placing my bag on my desk, I took a deep breath. Framed pictures of my family filled the room's four white walls, reminding me why I was doing this. I questioned myself a lot of times, wishing I grew up without magic—maybe I could have been in a boring profession. But seeing their smiling faces around me, all proud sorcerers and occult detectives, assured me I was on the right path.
I sat behind my desk and opened the laptop on top, going straight to the files. Aisha labeled cases by levels—5 the highest, and 1 the lowest. She was good at judging how tough they were.
Preacher Boy dealt with level 1 to 3 cases while I dealt with 4 and 5. Though he was a good sorcerer, he wasn't skilled or powerful enough to deal with the last two. He had tried it before and failed miserably, resulting in him running away by time traveling to the 1370s. Anthony and Zainab had to save him. That was how the two lovers met.
I chose level 4 and picked the latest case. The clients were well-respected Lutheran preachers in the city. Apparently, their ten-year-old daughter, who went missing fifteen years ago, had returned a few days ago, having not aged at all. They believed a demon had possessed her corpse, and they wanted me to exorcise it and free them from their torment.
I remembered this case when it was national news for an entire year back then. The police, the clergy, and sorcerers searched for the girl and failed to find her. It was a tragedy and parents around the country kept a close eye on their children—especially their daughters.
Now, out of the blue, she reappeared?
The preachers weren't telling me everything.
Something sinister was at work here, and I'd bet on my life the preachers had something to do with her disappearance. Parents and loved ones were always the people of interest in such cases. And now they wanted me to clean up their mess before their peers found out.
Fuck.
Moments like these made me wish I didn't have the detective-client privilege.
I grabbed the telephone on my desk and dialed Aisha.
"You've found the right case, Boss?" she asked.
"Yes. Tell the preachers I'm on my way."
"Alright." She hung up.
I leaned back in my chair and sighed. No matter what happened next, at least the preachers were paying me ten times the normal rate for a level 4 case. But that told me whatever had happened to their daughter was worse than anyone imagined.