Chapter 4: Burial

The whole house had been noisy ever since her grandmother died, too loud for her liking.

To say that when her grandmother was still alive she spent every day wishing for anything other than the deathly quiet that usually filled the halls and grounds of their mansion. In the whole house with its fifteen rooms, there used to be only her, her grandmother, the maid Sade, Ben the housekeeper, and Ireti who doubled as the gardener and gateman; and all of them were witches too.

Now the halls and their compound were filled with strangers, people who had come to pay their last respect to her grandmother. The majority of these people were low-ranked witches who have been helped one way or the other by their family or are currently working in one of their numerous companies, while others were normal people and dignitaries who also had certain affiliations with them.

Her grandmother was dead!

Mama was dead!

The appearance of everyone here made it all too real. That she officially had no other family in the world.

She had cried until there was no more water in her eyes and all she could do was whimper and groan, and then she had woken up to the fact that crying and being sorrowful would not help one bit, she had to be strong.

Tara sighed and shifted on her precarious perch high up on edge of the roof deck of the three-story building, swinging her legs in the air. The cool evening breeze from the sea at the edge of the mansion blew across occasionally, giving her a chill. The thin black dress she wore did nothing to protect her from the cold, nor was she using magic to heat herself as it was forbidden to use it in public.

She looked down wryly as music boomed from big speakers below, at the people dancing, gyrating, drinking, and making merry. The smell of cooking permeated the whole atmosphere and the caterers ran around the iron big pots placed on blazing gas cookers, doing their thing.

By a corner of the grounds to the right where the mammoth tall trees grew together like a mini forest, the butchers were about to slaughter the thirty-second cow or so in two days.

Tara sighed. One would think they were celebrating life instead of death. Or that they were happy grandmother died looking as they gorged themselves.

She always wondered how everyone in Nigeria always took the slightest opportunities to party and make noise. This should have been a solemn event, but when she had brought it up everyone had said since her grandmother died at a very old age then it was a thing of celebration and not sorrow. But they all would not understand that it was a thing of sorrow for her because at this point she had no one else in the world, she was all alone.

Today was the Wake-keep, and as was the tradition today's party would continue with music and other activities up until the next morning which was the final burial, but she felt detached about the whole proceeding.

This burial procedure was just a smokescreen to pass off in the normal world. The body of her grandmother in the coffin downstairs that everybody was seeing was a fake. The real burial would be held in Orun Isu, the witches’ hidden city, where all witches of pure blood were always buried.  

What do I do now? Where do I move from here? Tara thought for the umpteenth time. Although when her grandmother was alive they were not so close, still, she held a very powerful position in her life. For the past four years now it was either they were going on a business meeting together as she showed her the ropes of the businesses, or they were attending meetings at the witch’s hidden city in other countries or dealing with internal issues. 

 “Tara,” a voice called.

Boma. Tara turned to see him walk assuredly towards her. He had been around her since the death of her grandmother and had left about three hours earlier to go get something.

“Hey,” she responded, forcing a smile. He had changed into an ash t-shirt which molded to his compact shape perfectly, and black jean trousers.

“Where is Ella?” he asked, a frown masking his face.

A warm feeling ran through her as she saw the care and love in his eyes. He didn’t want her to be alone and had only left because Ella had promised to look after her. But she had pretended to fall asleep not quite long after he was gone and then left the room a few minutes after Ella did.

“I’m okay. I don’t need to be babysat.” She replied, melting into his embrace as he hugged her from behind.

There were no words spoken, none needed. They silently held each other, zoning out into a world where only the two of them existed.

A ring of alarm ran through Tara so suddenly, making her jolt.

“What is it?” Boma asked.

Tara looked around, unsure of what the problem was. She shifted her gaze down at the merry-goers several floors down and suddenly caught sight of two young boys about the age of seven running after each other. One of the boys slipped, heading straight for one of the huge pots steaming with gods-know-what.

Everyone around who saw the boy screamed out loud, their voices almost on par with the sounds from the speaker.

A split second was all she had and she reacted very fast. She subtly cast the tiniest bit of magic to bring him to a stop right before the gas cooker and steaming pot which would have signaled his end, taking care not to make the boys’ lucky escape seem too unbelievable.

“Gods,” Boma hissed sharply behind her.

That was close, Tara thought, heaving hard as the area soon degenerated into a hubbub of noise with the boy crying and his mother grabbing him into her bosom.

Tara turned to Boma, waiting for the reprimand expected from him for using magic in public like this. He stared back at her, holding her gaze.

“What is it?” he finally asked.

Tara raised her eyebrows searching his face for a minute before shaking her head. “Err… Nothing.”

He didn’t sense her using magic!

How was that even possible? Things like this never went past Boma. As a stickler for rules he would always chide her softly anytime she broke them.

Now that she thought of it, her magic felt strange; more powerful, more controlled. How did she know something would go wrong a split seconds before it did? And how was she able to hide it from even Boma although all she intended was to hide it from the non-witches around?

Tara’s thought shifted back to the night her grandmother died, when she transferred her powers to her and damned her soul never to reincarnate again. The tears wanted to fall again.

‘Keep it a secret.’ her grandmother had strongly warned. And since that night she had not performed magic, not until today.

What they did was not forbidden, no, but the power can only be transferred if the person transferring it did so willingly from the depth of their soul, and many things could go wrong in the process.

“Any more and the boy would have been seriously injured,” Boma was saying, bringing her attention back to the scene below where people gathered around the mother and child. The mother sat on the grass with the boy still in her bosom far away from the pots, gas and all, weeping from the shock.

A sharp pang struck her heart as Tara watched the whole thing somberly.

Love.

Care.

Those were luxuries she had never had in a long time. Her grandmother had tried in her little way, Alake who she had spent a lot of time with growing up had also tried, but it had been nothing like what this mother was showing to her child.

Times like this make me realize how alone I am.

“Aiii...” Tara squealed softly as strong hands suddenly carried her from her perch on the edge of the roof deck and turned her around. “Boma,” she hissed softly as he held her gaze heatedly.

“You are not alone,” Boma said, staring deep into her eyes.

Did he hear her? She must have spoken her thoughts of being alone out loud.

“You are not alone,” Boma repeated. “I am using this opportunity to promise you and make a covenant with you that even if heaven and earth pass away I would always be with you, beside you.”

He paused for a moment and continued. “I will be anything and everything you never had or you wish for; your friend, your lover, your father, your brother; everything.”

“Boma…” Her eyes quickly filled up as she held his gaze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the fire she saw burning in his.

Yes, she was not alone.

 At least she had him, and all things being equal they would be getting married soonest, immediately after she ascended as the matron. 

Tara reached her hand behind his head and pulled it to hers, giggling softly at the shock that crossed his face as she kissed him on his lips.

Boma pulled back after a few minutes and stared at her, a sharp twinkle in his eyes. “Feisty are we?”

Tara winked and pulled him close for another kiss, this time sending her tongue into his mouth to chase after his.

“Tara!” Ella’s voice soon broke them out of their world.

Tara pulled away reluctantly, turning to a breathless Ella standing by the door and staring at the two of them with a funny look.

“All the time! They always choose the wrong possible moment to interrupt,” Boma hissed beside her, making her chuckle.

“I have been looking everywhere for you,” Ella said, coming towards them with a frown pasted on her face.

The smile on her face receded fast as the reality of the present hit her.

“You need to go get dressed, the pastors would soon be around to start the Wake-keep program, and the press is around.”

Tara sighed, there was no escaping this. “Okay.”

“Mr. Danladi is here,” Ella added as she made to head inside, causing her to stop

“Danladi?”

“Yes, Danladi of Merit Homes. He’s here to pay his respect.”

Tara scoffed; another vulture was here to pick at the bones!

 Danladi had been trying to swallow their family estate development outfit for years, but her grandmother had always beaten him to his games. The last time her grandmother ever had dealings with him Tara was there and they had ended up with a shouting match against each other. That was about three years ago.

Tara smiled a little evilly as she recounted the headings on the news blogs and papers about her; EIGHTEEN-YEAR-OLD HEIRESS INHERIT MULTI-BILLION NAIRA FAMILY INHERITANCE.

What a picture that would have been painted in their minds. A gullible young girl waiting to be exploited.

Mr. Danladi was like the tenth of the competitors from one of their several businesses who would come in the guise of paying a curtsey visit to size her up and throw tidbits of baits for her to fall into their traps.

 “Tara,” Boma reached for her.

“It’s okay. Let’s go inside.” Tara evaded his hand, heading inside the house.

If nothing, her grandmother had prepared her for times such as this, and she would show them, everyone, how much of the blood of Osoro ran through her veins.

*****

Tara felt her skin crawl for the third time that night as she danced on the stage. It was customary that during the Wake-keep, the child or family of the diseased would dance in front while the musicians sang their praises and people sprayed money, and although she had tried to run from it, there was nothing she could do but to play along.

The first time she felt it, it had been during the short sermon for the Wake-keep program. The pastor was telling a story of a man who refused to give his life to Jesus and was hoping to do so at the last minute only to die earlier and go to hell when she felt something like an unseen eye turn its focus on her.

Goosebumps rose sharply across her skin, and her first act was to turn first to Boma, and then Ella, and Alake who was seated with her all through the program if they sensed anything.

They didn’t.

Something was familiar about the feeling as the eyes dug into her skin. She looked around her but could sense no one looking at her. It took her a moment before she realized why the feeling was so familiar.

It was magic. Very powerful and subtle magic, unlike anything she had ever witnessed before. That was why the others could not sense it!

“What is it?” Ella asked as Tara gasped.

“Nothing.” Tara quickly shook her head, comporting herself. Was she just being paranoid? What was going on here?

The eyes were gone in the next instant, and it even seemed like she had imagined it.

The second time it happened, she vividly felt the strange magic crawl up her skin. The signature of this magic user was different from the first, meaning that it came from different sources, but it was just as strong.

Could it be one of the witch’s council members? But their magic shouldn’t be as strong and contained that they could hide from Alake, Boma, and herself.

Tara turned to where the council members were seated amongst the dignitaries, looking across every one of them. She felt nothing from them, and then the feeling was gone.

The third time she felt the feeling of being watched again it was another signature, another equally powerful magic-user.

“What the-?” Her heart rose to her throat at the occurrence.

She quickly turned inwards and called to her magic, about to subtly trace the source of the strange magic when she heard the voice. It was so faint she might have missed it.

“No, don’t.”

Mama!

It was her grandmother’s voice.

Mama! Tara called mentally, again and again. But there was no reply. It was like the voice was never there. The strange magic was gone too.

Her grandmother didn’t want her performing magic, but why? Were all these real? Tara found different questions running through her mind as she went through the whole wake-keep program mechanically.

The next day as they laid the coffin into the grave, she felt one of the strange magic signatures upon her again. It was one of the three she felt the day before. She was determined to know what was going on again this time and tried to perform magic.

“No…. Lij… abn… quarters…” the voice said weakly inside her head for the second time in two days.

Mama! Tara shouted mentally, but the voice was gone once again.

It really was her grandmother.

Mama! She called again to no avail.

Her heart began to race fast. Although she was unable to get the whole sentence she had said, but her grandmother’s voice seemed to be saying she had left something for her in her quarters. She had to leave, fast. She could not wait to go check her grandmother’s room back at home to search for what she had left her.

“Let the family of the deceased come forward,” the officiating Chaplain called, bringing her back to the present.

Asake nudged her forward, and Ella supported her by the side to the front.

This was it. She had to conjure tears for the occasion as Alake had advised earlier, even if she wasn’t feeling it.

The tears began to flow as she was handed the shovel to pour the first sand upon the coffin already laid down into the grave.

Tara felt a strange scent in the air as the sand fell from the shovel and pattered softly on the coffin. Unsure at first she crinkled her nose, but the scent soon grew so strong and unmistakable.

Tara shifted her gaze to the thick undergrowth and trees by the left of the gravesite several hundred meters away. She caught three human shapes hidden inside the bush, away from sight. Anger surged through her, making her shiver visibly.

The impossible had happened.

Wolves!

Werewolves have somehow entered into the country escaping their radar, and they even had the guts to come to her grandmothers’ burial!