“I can’t find anything,” he whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong, sunshine girl. Tell me—tell me where it hurts.”

I barely heard him. The glyphs on my arms itched like fire ants as ojiji swarmed on the muraled salon ceiling, jeering through mocking, skeletal smiles.

Coward! Coward!

We were younger than you when your empire tossed us into the Oruku Breach.

You don’t deserve to be afraid. Do more—do more.

Pay for our lives.

“Truth and lies,” I breathed as my siblings watched me with growing concern. “Truth and lies. Which is which?”

“Tea,” prescribed Ai Ling. She dug through Thérèse’s herb basket in the corner, dumped leaves in a water mug, and pressed it under my nose. Fragrant leaves tickled my tongue as I sipped, and slowly, my limbs relaxed. The mocking voices disappeared, though I dared not look at the ceiling, in case those creatures still stared back.

One of Kameron’s panther cubs mewled in the salon corner, and Dayo fetched it, hoping the furry bundle would soothe me. I stared at its limpid green eyes, and it squeaked, licking my face. Sighing, I held it to my chest, just as Sanjeet held me.

“The ojiji came back,” I croaked. “Dayo and Bunmi saw them, down in the city. Children, just like the one who murdered Thaddace—Redemptors from Enoba’s time. They saved me from the assassin.” My council siblings shuddered as I fed the memory down the Ray bond: dead-eyed children hurling themselves from the high-rise, then rising from the dirt, limbs hanging grotesquely from their bodies as they turned to face me. Ai Ling and Sanjeet tensed in revulsion as I showed them the memory.

“What I don’t understand,” Dayo mused quietly, “is how those creatures are making it through from the Underworld. Maybe spirits can come and go as they please. But physical bodies? They could only enter our world through an opening.”

Captain Bunmi stiffened, gripping her spear. “The Oruku Breach.”

Sanjeet shook his head. “The Breach is guarded every hour of every day. I receive daily reports from Ebujo. Nothing has come through that hole since last month, when the abiku attended the Treaty Renewal. If dozens of undead children were pouring through the Breach, I would know.”

“Unless they’re coming from somewhere else,” I whispered. “A new opening to the Underworld.”

We all fell silent.

“Well,” Ai Ling said after a pause, “wherever they’re coming from, at least they’re on our side. I mean . . . they saved Tar, right? So maybe they like her. Maybe those creatures are grateful that Tar’s saving future children from their own fate.”

Captain Bunmi sucked her teeth doubtfully. “I very much doubt that ojiji can be grateful,” she said, brooding. “In my home village, wisewomen described ojiji as animate puppets—shell beings, with minds enslaved by the will of the abiku.”

“Plus, an ojiji murdered Thaddace,” I pointed out. “I don’t want their help. If they don’t care about the people I love, then how can they care about me?”