Chapter One
The monster was merciless. Its sword was the wind that slashed brutally across skin and its arrows were made of water, that yes was a blessing, but was a curse as well. It flooded bringing destruction and stagnated bringing bloodsuckers and disease to Nairobi.
It was the month of June, proven by how the sky was covered by the city's breath. Not the words of Angelo Toussaint, but of his mother when he was younger and tried to comprehend fog.
He tried to smile at the memory but the monster's sword slashed with a force that chattered his teeth. He now regretted leaving the house in a vest and basketball shorts.
None of this helped him carry his load that already weighed a tonne to the taxi parked in front of the house. The driver was at the open boot of the car, shielding his face from the drizzle with his right hand. He helped the sixteen-year-old boy lift his mother's suitcase into the car then slammed the boot shut. The car leaned slightly on its rear wheels.
Angelo began to question the credibility of his mother's words when she'd said, " I'll be gone a few days."
He shook the driver's hand and they exchanged pleasantries. The man was warmly dressed in a heavy jacket and jeans. Angelo was making the perfect demonstration of a reed in the wind, the driver joked.
Angelo smiled with some effort, tried to laugh but only chattered his teeth some more.
He made for the house, his bare feet splashing in some puddle. Ignoring the cold he pushed the door open.
The cold didn't disappear at once but was reduced to a certain extent, which was better than being outside.
He found his mother rummaging through her drawers in her bedroom, desperately searching for something.
" You do realize that the longer you keep the driver waiting, the more they charge you, right?" he asked leaning on the door frame.
" I'm still a year from turning forty Angelo, I'm not yet old. I still know stuff" she replied, her search never stopping.
Time stitched seconds together to a minute that was occupied by silence.
She must've found what she was looking for, Angelo could tell by how her previously stressed expression calmed. She closed the drawer and held out the headphone adapter so Angelo could see.
Of course. Headphone adapters were crucial for sixteen-hour flights to New York.
She shoved the adapter into her coat pocket and picked up her purse.
Their goodbyes were brief, such that the word goodbye wasn't even mentioned. A few days.
A few days because she couldn't dictate how long she'd be gone because that's how U.N jobs worked, Angelo guessed. A few days in the States.
Emptiness was no new feeling to Angelo, but it gripped him with a renewed strength every time he was alone. The stronger need to go back to sleep commanded that he worry about being lonely later.
As soon as his mother had shut the front door on her way out, he had gone back to his room upstairs and fallen onto his bed, desperately searching for leftovers of sleep. It was too early for a Saturday morning.
He felt his senses dull,
But was pulled from his haze by Chris Brown's voice right next to his ear. His phone was ringing.
He picked up without looking at the caller and put them on speaker.
"Hello?" Angelo said, speaking through the mattress.
"Hey Angelo." came a feminine voice. A voice Angelo could recognize from a miles away. It belonged to the girl who had become Angelo's best friend, a term he was beginning to despise. 'Best friend' was the wall that prevented them from being more.
"Hey Ashley. Isn't it too early for a Saturday morning?" he said keeping the pain of his thoughts from his voice. He was wide awake now, sitting on his bed.
Angelo imagined her shrugging.
" Some of us have things to do on Saturdays"
" Going for tennis practice, are you?"
" Stalking is a felony, Mr. Toussaint."
" And waking me up early on a Saturday morning against the best friends' law, Ms. Waweru"
Angelo could hear commotion in what he presumed was her bedroom. A zip-closed a door creaked as it opened.
" Let me make it up to you then" she said after a moment of silence.
" How so?"
" Meet me at the Junction mall at midday" she said and hung up before Angelo could reply. He was out of his bed in an instant.
★★★
'This isn't a date.'
The back of his mind nagged him. He and Ashley did this all the time. They would go to the mall, watch a movie or have lunch with the possibility of a third party.
Boys would always flirt with Ashley and Angelo would ignore them until he got the secret signal from her that they should ditch the third party.
If it was a girl, they would flirt indirectly with Angelo and Ashley would come to his rescue. As a result, neither of them was very popular at school.
The cold had subsided and the clouds had parted only slightly, letting in some sun. It would probably start raining again in the afternoon.
Angelo's house was a five-kilometer walk from the mall, a walking distance.
It was ten minutes to midday. He slowed his pace as the road rose uphill. He could almost see the building now.
A foreigner gestured for him to stop.
Taking off his earphones he heard her struggle to speak Swahili, her American accent betraying her.
Foreigners were only ever in the country because they worked and lived here or they were just tourists.
She was clearly a tourist because she had immediately presumed that Angelo didn't speak English.
She'd switched to random words combined with gestures when Angelo decided to end his amusement.
"You realize that waving your arms about doesn't make me understand you any better, right?" he asked, letting the grin spread on his face.
Her cheeks flushed and she looked down, embarrassed.
She was wearing jeans and a sleeveless blacktop. Angelo's eyes wandered to a bronze ankh tattoo on her right arm, just below the shoulder.
"No need to apologize. What do you need help with?"
"I'm looking for someone."
"Nairobi's not as large as New York or but it's a city nonetheless. Finding someone specific by asking random people won't get you anywhere ..."
"That's the thing, I have their description..."
"That'd still mean looking for a single person out of millions who meets that description. I'm sorry, I can't help you."Angelo said and began to walk away.
But the lady persisted, stepping into his path once more. She was a head shorter than Angelo but her arms were more than the tattoo.
Angelo stopped walking, not because he was intimidated by her build but because he didn't see any reason to be rude.
"The description is very specific, he's six foot two, has a scarred eyebrow and he's..."
"He's black." Angelo finished for her.
Now he had a reason to be rude. He shoved past, already trying to forget that this had ever happened.
A grip around his right wrist.
It was strong enough to stop his movement and pull him back slightly.
Using his right foot as a pivot, he turned in a wide clockwise arc like he was playing basketball.
He stared down at the white lady who's expression had hardened.
"There's one more detail..." she began, but Angelo cut her off,
" I think we're past that now. We've skipped over to physical assault on a minor in a matter of seconds. And, with over a hundred witnesses..." he trailed off in his struggles to break free from the iron grip.
"His name" she said, tightening her grip, almost unleashing a scream from Angelo.
Almost.
"What are..."
"Angelo Toussaint." She said, releasing him.
Angelo pulled his wrist to his chest and rubbed it in his left hand. It throbbed painfully.
"Who?" he asked although he'd heard her perfectly well.
She ignored his question, seeing through him as if he were glass.
"Angelo, listen to me..."
"Oh, so you're demanding now?" he asked, his voice raised.
"Please. I can't let you go to that mall. Your life depends on it"
"What do you mean my life depends on it?" his anger flared. Was this lady threatening him?
"I'm trying to help you!" she shouted. Her expression had changed once more. Desperation was easy to read, but just as easy to fake. He wasn't going to fall for it.
He let the smirk stain his face.
"Yeah? My wrist says otherwise." he turned and strode up the hill, ignoring her as she shouted for him to stop.