“Sit,” she heard it say. The voice was neither male nor female. Had it even spoken? She took her juju knife from her pocket and placed it on her lap as she sat beside Anyanwu. Before her, it seemed to sink ever so slightly into the wriggling ground, more plants blooming, fruiting, and dying around it. It was “sitting.” She caught a whiff of its scent—soil, fruit, decay, and rain. It was a good smell.

Silence. Sunny stared at it and it stared at her. A white plate appeared between them. When the kola nut materialized on it, Sunny almost burst out laughing, and, beside her, Anyanwu actually did laugh. It wasn’t enough that Chukwu had turned its eye toward her, but now it was going to break kola with her? She stifled her urge to giggle.

“Kola has come,” Sunny and Anyanwu recited.

Chukwu’s face did not change, but Sunny felt that it was pleased. The kola nut sat on its tip and then fell into seven lobes. From within the haystack of cloth came a long, thick arm of raffia and beads. When Chukwu touched the plate, two raffia stalks wrapped around a piece of kola. Several blue and red beads spilled onto the plate. Chukwu placed the piece of kola into the mouth of the face in front of Sunny. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. The crunching was so loud that Sunny thought her head would pop. She was so mesmerized by the noise that she nearly forgot her role in the ritual.

Both she and her spirit self reached forward and took a piece of kola. Chukwu took another piece and for several minutes, Sunny, Anyanwu, and the Supreme Being watched one another and crunched away on kola nut. The kola had a nice flavor.

After what felt like an hour, Chukwu’s head began to turn and each face took a look at Sunny and Anyanwu. First one face, then the next, then the next, and then the fourth. This one squinted at Sunny and then opened its eyes wide. Anyanwu slowly disappeared, and Sunny felt her settle comfortably within her, more comfortably than she’d felt since they’d been doubled. Chukwu invited me here. All I could do was push you to fight; you had to fight Ekwensu alone, Anyanwu said. And Sunny understood. One did not decline an invitation to meet with the Supreme Being. Not ever.

“When did you learn to write in Nsibidi?” Sunny asked.

“I don’t know,” Anyanwu said. “But I suspect being close to God can cause . . . revelations.”

Chukwu motioned at her with its strange arm. It seemed to be pointing at her head.

“What?” Sunny asked, touching her face. “Here?” When it kept motioning, she touched the comb on her head. She pulled it out, and the face on Chukwu smiled. “This was a gift,” Sunny said. “From Mami Wata.” She held it out and Chukwu took it. In Chukwu’s hands the comb broke, and the iridescent part of it fell to the grass as three large iridescent shells. Then the shells started moving, ghostlike snails with long, bulbous antennae pushing out and dragging the shells.