The shift change was the most dangerous five minutes in the Orisha’s domain. The Mmuo guards were distracted, complaining about their superiors. That was our window.
My heart was a talking drum in my chest. I stood at my corner, the lookout. My eyes tracked the spirits. They always took the wide, glowing corridors, never the narrow, dark spaces between the walls. A human eye saw the gaps. A spirit’s eye looked past. I’d memorized the shortcut.
Uzo led, his melted face pressed to the wall. He knew the forgotten passages that snaked behind the Census office. Tunde followed, clutching his basket. Today, it wasn’t for carrying. It was a weapon.
We reached the junction. The Census office glowed ahead, its doorway shimmering. Inside, the official Eze was muttering to himself, his voice slurred. Tunde’s smuggled wine had done its job.
“Now,” Chijioke whispered, his voice tight.
Tunde didn’t hesitate. He stumbled into the main corridor, right in front of a group of scribe spirits. His basket clattered, spilling a dozen rotten mangoes. The stink was immediate—a foul, physical world stench. The scribes recoiled, hissing in disgust.
In that second of chaos, Chijioke moved. A blur. He slipped into Eze’s office. Uzo and I held our breath. The only sound was Tunde’s profuse apologies.
Then Chijioke was back. In his hand was a tablet of solidified light, symbols dancing across its surface. The ledger.
Success.
But my luck has always been terrible.
We turned to flee. A roar stopped us cold. It wasn’t a Mmuo. It was Eze. He stumbled from his office, eyes wild, sobering fast.
“THIEVES!” he bellowed. “They have taken the Census!”
The corridor snapped to attention. The stench of mangoes meant nothing now. A deep gong sounded, shaking the walls. The spirit realm was on high alert.
“Run!” Uzo hissed.
We ran. The gong chased us, echoing everywhere. Spirits poured into the halls. Our shortcut was closing. We burst into a wider corridor. Horned Mmuo guards charged from both ends. We were trapped.
Chijioke’s head snapped from the guards to me. I saw it in his eyes, the same cold look from the tunnels. The math was simple. One human life against the mission. A fair trade.
“The human is the spy!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He pointed a bony finger straight at me. “She forced us! She took the ledger!”
My blood turned to ice. It was so clean. So fast.
The guards’ hollow eyes locked onto me. They believed him. Of course they did.
But Tunde didn’t. “Liar!” he yelled. He shoved his empty basket over the head of the nearest Mmuo. It was a pathetic distraction, but it caused a second of confusion.
Uzo grabbed my arm. “This way!” He pulled me toward a side tunnel that looked like a drain. Chijioke hesitated for a split second, clutching the ledger to his chest. His eyes met mine. There was no apology, only grim necessity. Then he turned and ran, abandoning us to save his prize.
The drain was tight and slimy. The shouts faded behind us. Uzo knew these service ways. He led us through a maze of pipes until we collapsed in a damp cavern deep under the government house.
We were safe. For now.
Tunde breathed hard, his face a mask of fury. “He sold you out. Just like that.”
Uzo shook his head. “E no shock me. Chijioke wey sell his brother. Na why his life dey like this.”
I couldn’t speak. My hands trembled. But one hand was clenched tight. When Chijioke pointed, when everything was chaos, my hand had shot out. I didn’t get the ledger. But I’d snatched something else. A shard of the light-tablet had broken off. It glowed faintly in my palm.
I had a piece of the ledger. But the alliance was broken. Chijioke was gone, and he knew my secret. The entire spirit world was hunting for the human spy.
I clutched the shard to my chest. It was warm. Somewhere on it was my mother’s name. But in the dripping darkness, I knew I was more alone than ever. The hunt was on, and I was the prey.