I just stood there rubbing the small scar on my forehead.

“He’s as close to a father as I will have,” he said.

“How can you call that man your father?” I retorted.

“What do you know about real fathers?” he spat. “You’ve never had one! Just a caretaker.” He turned to leave. “Do you know what they will do to us if he dies?” he asked over his shoulder. “They’ll come after us. We’ll go the way of my parents.”

That night, at eleven o’clock, that red eye appeared. I looked at it defiantly, daring it to try something. It hovered above me for one minute, staring. Then it faded away. The same thing happened the next night. And the next. Rumors abounded. Luyu told me that Mwita and I were both suspected of beating Aro. “People say they saw you going there that morning,” she said. “That you looked angry and ready to kill.”

Papa was taking some days off work to recover from his own ailments and my mother didn’t tell him a thing about what I’d done. My mother and her secrets. She was so good at keeping them. Thus, he knew nothing of the rumors, thankfully. But my mother did ask me if there was any truth to them.

“I’m not irrational,” I told her. “Aro’s more than people think he is.”

People repeated it to each other: Ewu children are born from violence and so it’s inevitable that they will become violent. Days passed. Aro remained ill. I readied myself for a witch hunt. It’ll happen the day Aro dies, I thought. I packed a small satchel of things, the easier to run with. And so when Papa died five days later, people were already eying me with great suspicion.

CHAPTER 17 – Full Circle

WE COME FULL CIRCLE. When I made my father’s body breathe at his funeral, my reputation sank to new depths. After my mother took me home, Mwita made himself ignorable and eavesdropped on my family members.

“We should have stoned her to death after she tried to kill Aro.”

“My daughter already has nightmares about her every night. Now this!”

“The faster she’s ashes, the better.”

At home, I slept more peacefully than I had in years. I woke to my body’s miserable aching. It dawned on me: Papa was ashes. I curled up and wept. I felt as if I were breaking all over again. Grief took me into its dark muted place for several hours. Eventually it set me back down in my bed. I wiped my nose with my bed sheet and looked at my clothes. My mother had changed me out of my white dress into a blue rapa. I held my left hand up, the one that had meshed with Papa’s body. There was a bit of crust between my index and middle finger.

“I could change to a vulture and fly away right now,” I whispered. But if I stayed an animal for too long, I’d go mad. Would that be so bad? I wondered. Mwita was right, I’m dangerous. I decided to sneak out of the house come night, before people came for me. For the good of my mother, especially. She was a widow now. Her reputation was more important now than ever. There was a knock on the door.

“What do you want?” I said. The door swung open hitting the wall hard. I scrambled out of bed, ready to take on an angry mob. It was Aro. My mother stood behind him. She made eye contact with me and then walked away. He slammed the door behind him. There was a fresh-looking bruise above his eye. I knew that there were other bruises and scars hidden by his white funeral garments, injuries that were five days old.

“Do you have any idea what you did?”

“Why do you care?” I snapped.

“You don’t think! You’re unlearned and uncontrollable, like an animal.” He sucked his teeth. “Let me see your hand.”

I held my breath as he stepped closer. I didn’t want him to touch me. He was Eshu, as I was. Someone with his skill would only need a cell of my skin to get even with me. But something made me sit still and allow him to take my hands. Guilt, grief, fatigue, you pick. He turned my hands this way and that, squeezed it, lightly ground my knuckles together. He let go, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

“Okay, sha,” he muttered to himself. “Onyesonwu, I will teach you.”

“What?”

“I’ll teach you the Great Mystic Points, if it is willed,” he said. “You’re a danger to us all if I don’t. You’re a danger to us all if I do, but at least I’ll be your Master.”

I couldn’t help but smile. My smile faltered. “They may hunt me tonight.”

“I’ll make sure that that doesn’t happen,” he simply said. “I haven’t died, so it shouldn’t be difficult. It’s your birth father you have to worry about. If you haven’t guessed by now, he’s a sorcerer as I am. If you hadn’t idiotically gone through your Eleventh Rite, he wouldn’t know of you yet. Thank me for protecting you all these years, otherwise you’d be long dead.”

I frowned. Aro had been protecting me. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I considered asking him how but instead I asked, “Why does he want to kill me?”

“Because you’re a failure,” Aro said, smirking. “You were supposed to be a boy.”

I winced.

“Now, I’d move you into my hut, but your mysterious mother needs you,” he said. “And there’s the problem of you and Mwita. During training, sexual contact will hinder you.”

My cheeks felt hot and I looked away.

“By the way, it would have been selfish to run off and leave your mother,” he said. He let his statement sit for a moment and I wondered if he could read my mind.

“I cannot,” he said. “I just know your type.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Can’t you defend yourself?” he said. “Don’t you know me and therefore know what it takes to destroy me?”

“I do, but you now know me, too,” I said. “You touched my hand.”

A grin spread across his face. “So now we know each other. A good start.”

“But you’re the Master.”

“So isn’t it wise to become one, too? For your own sake?”

“Only if I can trust you to make me one.”

“Yes, trust is earned, isn’t it?” he said.

I thought about it. “Okay.”

“Do you believe in Ani?”

“No,” I said, matter-of-factly. Ani was supposed to be merciful and loving. Ani wouldn’t have allowed me to exist. I’d never believed in Ani. She was just an expression I was used to using when I was surprised or angry.

“Some creator then?” he asked.

I nodded. “It is cold and logical.”

“Are you willing to allow others the same right to their beliefs?”

“If their beliefs don’t hurt others and, when I feel the need, I am allowed call them stupid in my mind, then yes.”

“Do you believe it’s your responsibility to leave this world in better shape than when you came into it?”

“Yes.”

He paused, looking at me more intensely. “Is it better to give or receive?”

“They’re the same,” I said. “One can’t exist without the other. But if you keep giving without receiving, you’re a fool.”

He chuckled at this. Then he asked, “Can you smell it?”

Immediately, I knew what he spoke of. “Yes,” I said. “Strongly.”

Fire, ice, iron, flesh, wood, and flowers. The sweat of life. Most of the time I forgot about the smell but I always became aware of it when strange things happened.

“Can you taste it?”

“Yes,” I said. “If I try.”

“Do you choose it?”

“No. It chose me long ago.”

He nodded. “Then welcome.” He walked to the door. Over his shoulder, he said, “And take that cursed stone from your mouth. It’s meant to keep you grounded. It’s useless to you.”