For what felt like ages, they stood there—quiet, attentive, on guard—staring intently toward Mrs. Wanjiku's backyard.
But nothing stirred. Not even the faintest sound.
"Who's there?" Edward stepped forward. His tone was sharp, his face unfriendly.
No response. Just silence. Irritating, suffocating silence.
"I said, who's there?!" A spell rested at the tip of his tongue, his hand itching to be stretched forth.
Anita caught his arm. "Don't," she warned, her voice laced with concern.
Edward pulled away, ignoring her, and stepped closer to the fence. His brows furrowed in concentration.
The next moment, Mdachi saw the fence blur and fade from sight. Behind it, a small figure crouched. Before he could process what he was seeing, the figure's outline began to glow an familiar blue. His eyes darted back to Edward, whose focus remained locked and solemn.
Anita stood close behind Edward, slightly to his right, one hand pressed nervously to her mouth, the other clutching the strap of her bag across her chest.
Then, with a swift motion, Edward raised his hand. In perfect correspondence, the figure rose above the now-visible fence. Edward pulled his hand back, and the intruder floated forward, over the barrier and into Edward's backyard. With a sharp wave, Edward slammed the figure down—not gently.
The glow flickered out.
The body hit the ground hard, rolling across the lawn until it crashed against the fence it had been hiding behind. A grunt escaped as pain rattled through it with every tumble.
Mdachi squinted, now seeing clearly: a boy. Young, beautiful, maybe thirteen. His medium-long afro was box-cut, his denim overalls thrown over a deep-blue T-shirt with words Mdachi couldn't quite read. One strap of the overalls hung loose, a rebellious fashion choice that matched the insolent rage burning in his eyes. The headstrong defiance in his gaze left no doubt about his character.
Edward strode toward him, face set in a dangerously stern expression. To the boy, in that moment, Edward looked like the devil himself.
"Who are you, and why were you spying on us?" Edward's voice was deep, each word edged with menace.
The boy said nothing. He glared at Edward, then at Mdachi and Anita.
"Don't make me ask again." Edward raised his hand above him menacingly. He wouldn't mind giving the boy another flight lesson.
"No, Edward," Anita rushed forward and pulled his hand down. "Don't be rash about this."
A chuckle.
All three snapped their eyes back to the boy.
He wiped blood from a bruise on his jaw and smirked. "You really expect me to be scared of you?" His tone was arrogant, voice raspy though soft for a boy. "You wouldn't dare hurt me. Not even if you wanted to."
Edward's eyes narrowed. "Then why don't I prove us both wrong?"
Anita clutched his arm again. "Don't… let him get to you."
The boy rolled his eyes, subtle but noticeable to Mdachi.
"You want to know who I am?" He stood, recollecting himself from his earlier disheveled state and brushing off his overalls—an ironic gesture given the pristine lawn. "I'm Tigean, your neighbor Wanjiku's granddaughter."
The trio recoiled.
"Granddaughter?"
"Yes, granddaughter," Tigean repeated coolly. "And it's a pleasure meeting you." She extended a hand toward Edward.
Edward only glared at it, then at her, his eyes sharp and dangerous. "Mrs. Wanjiku does not have a grandchild."
"Oh?" Her brow arched. "Is that so? Well, I didn't know that. But then… are you implying I'm a phantom?"
Rage simmered inside Edward, but Anita's grip kept him in check. He swallowed it back.
"Who. Are. You?" Edward asked again, his voice darkening even further.
Tigean felt her chest tighten under his stare. "I've already told you. I'm Tigean, Swali Wanjiku's granddaughter."
Edward's suspicion remained unshaken.
Anita intervened. "Then why were you spying on us, Tigean?"
"Well…" Tigean tilted her head, thinking. "Mmm, how should I put this—"
"Just how it is," Edward hissed.
She glared briefly, then noticed something: her right foot barely touched the ground. Her eyes darted around, searching for her missing crock.
Mdachi had already seen it and quietly handed it to her.
"Asanta," she said, slipping it back on.
Mdachi didn't respond— not out of arrogance, but because he was dazed. This girl, who had appeared so boyish in manner, was fascinating. One moment, she was flung through the air like a ragdoll; the next, she radiated arrogance and hubris; and then, calm acceptance in the face of it all. Intriguing.
"Hey," Anita snapped impatiently.
Tigean half rolled her eyes. "Relax, joh. Nyi pia mababi mko na utiaji."
"Excuse me?" Anita was flustered.
Edward, on the other hand, looked amused. He understood every word, and the fact that Anita didn't made the exchange unexpectedly entertaining.
"Ilikuwa nidanganye but… hakuna haja," Tigean said at last. Glancing at Anita's bewildered face, she softened mockingly. "My apologies, my lady. What I meant was that at first, I intended to diddle you… but I change my mind."
Anita groaned inwardly. This girl was already more exhausting than her brother, and they had only just met.
"You'll have to pardon me, fellas. English ain't my first language… nor second. Or third."
"But you're eloquent in it," Mdachi offered sincerely.
She shrugged. "Eh. Not like I have a choice."
"Enough dallying." Edward stepped closer. "Let's assume, for now, that you really are Mrs. Wanjiku's granddaughter."
"I am," Tigean insisted firmly. "You can't know everything about a person, Edward—especially things that don't concern you."
Edward said nothing, his silence heavy.
"Just… just tell us your agenda. Please." Mdachi stepped forward.
Edward and Anita blinked, surprised. Why was he the one begging? Tigean should have been the one pleading.
Tigean sighed. "The truth is, yes—I was spying on you. My grandmadhe specifically told me to stay away from you and your house when I arrived."
Their interest sharpened.
"She said that, over the past few days, she'd heard and seen strange things coming from your place. But that's obviously in addition to your normal family drama noises."
Her lips curled mischievously as she winked. "You know how grandmadhes hate noise."
"What did she hear and see?!" Edward's voice was desperate.
"Hey, buda." Tigean put some space between them, holding up a hand. "SPACE."
Edward stepped back reluctantly.
"So, you were spying on us to make sense of what your grandmother—"
"Grandmadhe," she corrected firmly.
"Okay… what your grandmadhe told you?" Mdachi asked.
"You can say that."
"Tigan," Edward's voice cut through, sharp and cold. "What did your grandmother hear and see?"
"Nothing incriminating for you, you bastard prick." The last two words slipped out in a mutter.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Anita snapped.
"Oh, darling." Tigean leaned casually against the fence, her tone calm, almost mocking. "It just means everything was a blur to her. One particular night—Friday night—she heard a ruckus late in the hours. She woke up, peeked out her window, and saw this guy with a bat, walking into the woods through that mangled door." She gestured toward the door.
"Then?" Edward asked, unable to restrain his anxiety.
"Tulia, bro. I'm the one narrating this story."
He had no choice, so he obliged.
"Grandmadhe isn't the type to pry into things that don't concern her. So even though she saw you heading into the forest, late at night, bat in hand, through a strangely ruined door, she went back to bed… only to be awakened again by your shriek."
"Wait. Did you just say that I walked into the woods, with that bat," Edward pointed to where he had dropped it, "through that door"—he pointed again—"and shrieked afterwards?"
"Si nadhani nimebonga Ingoso ama?"
"I just need to understand, Tigan."
"Tigean."
"…Yeah, sure. Tigean."
"Exactly. And after that, she saw your father carry you back into the house. The next morning, she faintly overheard rowing."
Edward stiffened. "Did you just say… my father carried me back into the house?... Why?"
Tigean's irritation flashed briefly at the interruption. "Because you were unconscious. At least, that's how it looked from my grandmadhe's angle of view. And no—you didn't seem hurt."
Edward's mind reeled. His father had carried him back? That meant he'd passed out. Must have been right after seeing that godforsaken creature—right after his scream. But then… did his father see the wolf too?
The bombardment of questions gave him a headache. Did his parents know about the supernatural? If so, how much? And if not, what had his father thought when he saw his son like that?
"You… you said the next day she heard rowing? Who, and when?"
"Well, I can't say who exactly, because she couldn't either. Like I said, she heard it faintly. But it sounded like all of you. And as for when—morning."
"So your grandmadhe just happened to tell you all this?" Mdachi pressed.
"I'm not the type to be told to keep away from somewhere without a full documentary as to why," Tigean said matter-of-factly.
Mdachi nodded slowly. "…Okay."
"And…" Edward began, but he wasn't even sure what he wanted to ask. The question hadn't fully formed in his head.
"Tigean," Anita interjected sweetly, cutting him off. "Did your grandmother happen to see something else that night? Something… out of place?"
"Apart from that door—and the fact that the second time she woke up, she found it miraculously fixed—no, nothing."
This girl… she was just tossing facts out carelessly, like it was nothing.
She continued, unbothered by their stunned expressions. "But if you're asking about the wolf—well, that she didn't."
Shock rippled through them.
"Halt... Firstly, did you just say the door—"
"—was fixed by the second time she woke up? Yeah. Whoever did it must have been quick. Looked just like magic."
Edward's eyes widened with realization. His gaze shifted to Tigean with a newfound weight. For some reason, she wasn't someone to mess with. Not with how much she knew. Not with how calmly she carried it.
"Before you ask—yes, I know about the wolf." Her words hit like a dart, almost as if she'd read Anita's mind. "The one Edward saw in the woods, when he 'courageously' marched into a creepy forest in the late hours of mysteries and witchcraft-practitionery?"
Her delivery was heavy. Too heavy, Anita thought. She could at least lighten it a little.
"Don't look so surprised. I was spying on you anyway, wasn't I? So I pieced things together—what you said, and my intuition. And guess what? It fit like a puzzle piece."
Speaking after her was growing nearly impossible.
"I know… about the supernatural. And not from you guys."
"So that means—"
"No. My family is just normal, ungifted humans. Like you." She flicked a glance at Mdachi. "And no, my grandmadhe doesn't know about supernatural stuff either."
Hell nah, Anita thought. How did she just read people's thoughts like that? That wasn't normal.
"It's called psychology, darling," Tigean said smoothly, turning to Anita. "And your face makes it way too easy."
"How old are you?" Mdachi blurted, astonished.
"I'm turning thirteen in a few months."
Thirteen. And already this sharp? Impressive.
Edward pressed. "The fact that you're aware of this… explains a lot. But if you didn't discover it through us, then through who—or what?"
"I get it. Trust doesn't come easy to you, Edward. Not after everything you've been through—or are still going to go through in this quest of yours." She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "It's a long story. But I can tell you this: I'm no one's spy. Seriously, look at me. Whose spy could I possibly be?"
"I've learned not to underestimate you."
"Fair enough. But honestly—I wasn't gathering ammunition for anyone. Cross my heart."
"Okay…" Mdachi began carefully. "But did your grandmadhe happen to hear anything useful during the row the next day?"
"No, not really. But she did hear you argue again that night. And with everything she'd seen—especially the night before—she felt there was something off about you guys. Decided it was best to keep her distance."
As she spoke, Edward's thoughts drifted to Mrs. Wanjiku herself. That Monday evening, when he'd left Anita's place—fresh from the shocking discovery that extraordinary was more than just an adjective—he'd been rather baffled by her unusual cold demeanour towards him and her stare, her piercing stare. But now he understood, and honestly, he didn't blame her.
Thinkin of it, he realised that he hadn't really thought about how his recent chaos was spilling into the lives of his neighbors like Mrs. Wanjiku… and the Lukazivs.
The Lukazivs weren't around much. He hadn't seen them recently. But what if they had been there on that Friday night? What if they'd witnessed everything Mrs. Wanjiku had—or more? And he couldn't even remember, because his memory had been erased?
"Wait." Tigean's eyes lit up. "Why are you asking me all these questions? No… you weren't… Edward, your memories were erased?" She blurted as if a prestigious discovery. "Damn, now this is my kind of mystery."
Well, she'd figured that out. But at this point, surprise itself felt like a crime. Mdachi thought grimly.
Then his eyes caught something. He blinked, focused—and there it was. A thin thread-like handle dangling from Tigean's pocket. The kind usually attached to tiny Bluetooth radios.
He reached for it. "What's this?"
"No, don't—"
Too late. Mdachi had already fished it out.
A small camera.
"Is… is that a—let me see." Anita snatched it.
Switching it on, she played the most recent video. Mdachi and Edward leaned in, watching.
"You…" Edward's head turned toward Tigean, his voice low and dangerous. Just one word—but it dripped with terror. "You were recording us. I'm such a fool. I actually believed you when you swore you weren't anyone's spy."
"But I'm not!" Tigean's composure cracked. Panic edged her voice. How could she convince them otherwise?
At that moment, a lavish blue car glided past the front yard.
All of them caught a glimpse.
"Oh no. My mom's back already." Edward's voice quivered.