“Yeah, after you woke me up by moving around. I was going to shred whatever it was to pieces. Your way is more humane.”

They stepped up to the flattened bat. It was soft with black fur on its body and reddish fur on its head and had the delicately elegant face of a fox. It looked up at them with blank eyes.

“You think it was sent?” Sunny asked. It was, she heard Anyanwu whisper. Immediately, Sunny’s headache went away.

“Of course.”

“By who?”

“You know who.”

“Udide?”

“No, Ekwensu,” Chichi said.

Sunny gasped.

“It’s a stupid thing to do,” Chichi said, kneeling down to look at the bat. “She’s toying with you. She just wants to scare you by letting you know that she knows. If she really wanted the book or your money, she’d have just made them disappear.”

So Ekwensu knew she was going to Lagos in order to get to Osisi. Sunny shut her eyes. The thought of something powerful, terrible, and violent taking interest in her made her ill. Suddenly, she wanted to go home.

“What are we going to do with it?”

There was a soft meow at the door, and they looked at each other.

“No,” Sunny said when Chichi went to open the door.

“Why not?” Chichi asked.

“What if it . . .”

Chichi opened the door and Paja skulked in. She trotted toward the immobile bat and looked at it. She meowed again. Then she arched her back and hissed, bringing her face right up to the bat, and the bat began to struggle against the charm Sunny had put on it. Then Paja appeared to gnaw at the air around the bat, and soon the bat flew out the window. Sunny shut it and smiled. “Paja,” she said, picking up the black cat. “I’m glad you don’t believe in capital punishment, either.” The cat purred, rubbing its soft face against Sunny’s.

Chichi rolled her eyes. “What kind of cat are you? You’re both hopeless.”

23

IBAFO

The next morning, after three hours of driving, they reached the town of Ibafo, about fifteen miles from Lagos. Almost there. The problem was that they were again caught in a go-slow, and not just any go-slow, a colossal go-slow. It was the wrong time to be there. Sunny could just barely see the source of their woes about a mile up the Lagos–Ibadan Expressway. There was a cluster of cream-colored buildings, and the parking lot around the largest of the buildings was packed. It was the Redemption Church Camp.

Being the early afternoon of New Year’s Eve, people were just arriving. And those who could not find parking in the lot were parking right on the road. The go-slow was so thick that traffic wasn’t moving at all. Some people even parked where they were stuck, left their car, and went on to the church.

“Are you kidding?” Sasha shouted out the window at some people in front of them who’d just left their car. They ignored him as they stepped into the grass and kept right on going, wearing their Sunday best, although it was Wednesday.