One hour earlier...
About twenty-five kilometers from Nairobi, a Vermillion Red Range Rover branched off the Nairobi–Mombasa Highway and joined another road to its right.
It drove a few metres before stopping in front of a prominent blue gate, guarded by half-asleep guards who seemed more depressed than the people in the institution itself.
The gate retracted slowly to the right with a low hum, and the car drove through into the soft, ambient premises of Tuli Gardens — a pristine yet quiet institute for the rehabilitation of people struggling with depression, stress, grief, and confusion.
It was like a getaway realignment. Peaceful and constructive.
The car drove along a smooth, curved pathway that passed through a green and serene garden — filled with all kinds of residents; some relaxing, some being productive, and some simply chatting away, giving a tranquil and lovely picture to the already mesmerising place.
The car reached the end of the path and parked in front of a low-rise, warm cream building. The place stood politely yet prominently among the other infrastructures in the area.
Jenevive stepped out of the car, stretched her neck slightly, then shut the door and strode toward the building's entrance — statuesque and bold — her heels clicking cathartically against the concrete cabros, her purse elegantly held in hand.
She pushed the glass door open and entered the lobby, finding a family of three seated there: an aged couple and a younger man she guessed to be their son.
Jenevive sneaked a brief glance at the other car outside. Yeah. That beige Peugeot must be theirs, she concluded.
She then turned to the receptionist who was busy shuffling through her desk in search of something.
A typical day in the facility.
She walked off without giving the situation any further thought, the family watching her strides with graceful intrigue. She was undeniably ravishing.
"I found it, sir," the receptionist suddenly declared, holding up a key. She was panting delightfully in her small victory when she noticed the trio's lack of attention.
She followed their gaze and saw Jenevive disappear into a hall.
She hadn't really seen her go by — or even come in. But then again, she wasn't surprised, neither by Jenevive's boss-like demeanour nor by her captivating presence.
She merely raised her upper lip in indifference before turning back to the family with a warm smile.
Jenevive got to the elevator at the end of the second hall to the right from the lobby and pressed a button.
She waited.
The place was quiet, with very few people walking past. An atrium garden sat calmly in the middle, giving the space a similar — though quieter — ambience to that of the garden outside.
Jenevive also liked the place's naturally gloomy lighting. It suited her idea of such a place just right.
The elevator arrived.
She got in. But instead of pressing a button, she pressed her thumb against a black surface below the button grid.
The doors closed.
She stepped closer to the grid and positioned her face before it.
Green analysis lasers emerged from the black surface above the grid and scanned her face — her eyes most especially.
A green tick appeared, and the elevator began gliding downwards.
It arrived and opened from the back.
Jenevive stepped out and walked into a sleek, dim reception.
The place was grander than the upper side and carried a quiet yet massive presence — a prestigious setting with a gloomy and exquisite aesthetic.
It was empty, with only a modestly dressed receptionist present.
She was accustomed to Jenevive and offered a brief welcoming smile.
Jenevive returned it and began walking toward a wide, hollow hallway, her dark-charcoal Saint Laurent stilettos clinking melodically against the polished stone floor, adding to the atmosphere of the place.
BAJIMSA. Such a majestic place.
Jenevive reached the Custodian's office and pushed the threshold open.
The secretary watched her step inside, helplessly astand. She had been standing ever since she saw and realised that it was actually her.
Jenevive would give her a stress disorder one day if she continued like this.
"You lied to me, Grelad," Jenevive announced, stepping into the office and pulling some papers from her purse.
She looked up only to be met by the sight of Mutiso standing next to Grelad, a file in hand, his index finger pressed against a document — most probably an experimental analysis he was briefing Grelad on.
They stared at her.
Jenevive remained contritely silent.
Mutiso didn't wait to be excused and showed himself out.
Jenevive remained standing sheepishly at the entrance of the huge office, fidgeting with her feet as she avoided the sight of Grelad's burning gaze.
She stayed like that, focusing on a particular caustic of the dancing, refracted light that seeped through the floor-to-ceiling windows from the low pond in the adjacent cave.
The bureau partly faced a huge, mystic underground cave with a glowing pond that illuminated preferred areas of the building.
Preferred areas such as the Custodian's office.
Grelad cleared his throat, dropped his hand from his waist, re-established himself from the staring stance, and took his seat.
He crossed his legs and began swinging the chair in arcs, fingers fidgeting with an inordinately expensive pen, his eyes stubbornly glued to Jenevive.
He had already given her the cue to speak.
Jenevive stepped forward and threw the papers onto his table, her earlier temper flipping back on.
Grelad took them and read through.
"Hm," he scoffed.
It was the cover-up report for Hallington's cause of death — the one stating that he died in a car accident.
Grelad placed the papers down and reached into his desk drawer.
"Since you are already here," his low-set voice came out as measured as always, "and on the subject of things we kept from each other…" He pulled out an old file from the drawer. "Why don't you tell me why you didn't tell me that you know one of our major suspects?"
He handed the file to her.
"Lynette Omondi."
Jenevive opened the file and froze at the sight of the document.
It bore a photo of Miridald in her teens — and beside it, the name Grelad had just mentioned: Lynette Aura Omondi.
Amusement crossed her face almost immediately after seeing it.
She restrained a laugh.
Grelad frowned and stood up. "What's so funny?" he asked irritably as he circled the desk.
"You really expect me to believe this?" Jenevive almost burst into laughter.
She tossed the file onto the desk.
"What kind of twisted game are you playing now, Grelad?" she asked, her tone suddenly sharpening back into seriousness.
She crossed her arms and glared at him.
"What do you mean, what kind of game am I playing?" Grelad clipped, retrieving the file.
His face contorted into a frustrated frown.
He pressed the file against his chest and opened it. "This is Lynette Omondi!" he claimed, aggressively tapping the photo. "You might know her as Miridald Tuweku, but her real name is Lynette Omondi!"
Jenevive frowned in confusion.
Grelad threw the file onto the table.
"She's the wolf-ktsi Najzha I was telling you about!"
Colour drained from Jenevive's face. Her breathing suddenly turned frantic.
"She's the Najzha," Grelad repeated with conviction, his tone calmer now.
----------------
Miridald was pacing about and biting her nails when she heard something ring.
She stopped and listened.
It was Anita's ringtone. She was familiar with it.
Anita was still asleep, her head drooping over her shoulder, when the ringing startled her awake.
She jolted.
Miridald rushed forward and plunged her hand into her pocket.
Mdachi watched her with an unreadable expression. His eyes, though, screamed contempt — calm and unsettlingly quiet.
When he had woken up, he had found himself and Anita seated on retractable chairs. Auntma had bound them to the chairs with magic, so there wasn't much he could do.
He only watched.
Miridald snatched the phone from Anita's pocket.
Anita was still drowsy. She didn't quite understand what was happening and only followed Miridald with a hazy gaze.
Miridald walked around them and got to Mdachi. She took his phone too, flashing a nervous smile at him as she walked away with both phones in hand.
Mdachi's stare was flat and cold.
Miridald's smile dropped, her eyes filling with sorrowful guilt. She placed the phones in a tray basket on the shelf with a heavy sigh.
She tried to open her mouth, but then shut it. There was no point. Mdachi wouldn't talk to her. He had refused to.
The phone rang again.
Miridald flinched, then exhaled in frustration.
Anita's attention snapped to the phone, now fully awake and sober.
She looked between Miridald and Mdachi, picking up on the tension but not understanding the cause.
"What's going on…?" Anita asked, trying to get up — but froze when she realised she couldn't.
Her eyes widened in alarm.
She settled back, her gaze darting around as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on.
She stopped and looked up at the anxious Miridald.
---
Jenevive clicked her tongue and tossed her phone onto the passenger seat.
She felt exasperated by Anita's incompetence in answering the phone. For God's sake, this was not the time for her to be throwing one of her mood swings. Things had just gone to hell in a handbasket, and they were part of the package.
She ignited the engine and adjusted the gear when the thought hit her.
She froze, hand on the handle.
Could Anita have been caught trying to get the camera? Jenevive wondered.
"No," she dismissed. That would only mean that Miridald knew they were coming.
Jenevive still couldn't believe it. So she reached for her phone again and tried Mdachi's number.
It rang with no response.
Could Miridald have really seen the camera? Could… could she have known they would go for it? Jenevive tarried, brows furrowing into a frown.
It didn't make sense.
Even if Miridald had really seen the camera and caught the duo trying to retrieve it, why would it feel like there was a crisis?
Miridald was not a bad person… was she?
Jenevive sat there for a while, the engine rumbling softly as she stared between the car and her phone — her expression blank, her nerves racked.
Then she noticed the file sitting comfortably next to her on the armrest — Miridald's, or Lynette's, or whoever-she-was's file. The one she had practically snatched from Grelad.
Without further ado, Jenevive stepped on the gas and spun the steering wheel.
---
Anita finally understood why Mdachi was seated too.
It wasn't because he wanted to be — it was because he was stuck. Bound to the chair, just like her.
Anita smiled, then began laughing.
She laughed so hard her ribs almost cracked.
Mdachi stared at her in irritation and bewilderment.
Miridald was terrified.
"Whooo!" Anita let out a breath, tears dropping from her eyes.
"What a plot twist, huh?" she said, clearly unbothered by the situation at hand. "Auntma," she focused on Miridald, "did you slumber me earlier?"
Miridald did not answer. She only stared, as though she were a twelve-year-old trapped in an asylum room with psychopaths — terrified beyond her wits.
What did Anita find amusing in all this? And did she just… laugh?
Anita exhaled the rest of her amusement. "Well, this explains a lot," she began, her tone seemingly back to normal, "and it's certainly a relief too."
Miridald's gaze narrowed inquisitively.
"You do know how to keep a secret, Auntma," Anita rumbled on. "Just like me, huh?" She winked.
Miridald was even more shocked. "What… what do you mean by that?"
"Hm?" Anita raised her brows. She hadn't really gotten what she meant.
Miridald's heart raced. "What do you mean by this explaining a lot, the relief, and the secret-keeping?"
"Ohhh," Anita admitted. "What I meant was that at least now we understand where Edward got his powers from — and that he's not adopted. Also, you're good at keeping secrets just like me, because we're both witches, and we both didn't know that about each other."
Miridald froze.
Mdachi was convinced that either the sleep spell had tampered with Anita's head, or Miridald had done something to her. Because why was she suddenly this daft and unhinged — spewing information in a nonsensical manner to a woman whose agenda they didn't even know?
For all they knew, Miridald could have been the villain all along.
Miridald swallowed hard. She was trembling.
"So that's why there was mchawi majani in the tea you gave us yesterday, isn't it?" she asked. "You guys were trying to figure out which one of us is a ktsi. But you couldn't — so you assumed Edward is adopted."
Things began to add up.
"Is that why Edward was extra sad after fetching soda with you guys?" Edward had tried to hide it, but she had seen right through him.
"Does Edward think he's adopted?" Her heart ached. "Does he really think I'm not his mother? How many people know about this? And about him having powers? Does your mom know? Is she also a witch? Is your whole family made of ktsiz?"
She turned to Mdachi. "Are you a ktsi too, Mdachi?"
"No," Mdachi said coldly.
"Shut up, Anita!" he rebuked before she could speak.
Anita shut up.
"Now don't speak. Not. Another. Word."
With a puckered lower lip, Anita nodded obediently.
There was definitely something wrong with her.
Mdachi turned to Miridald with his earlier stern expression.
Miridald felt devastated. She was spiralling. But she knew better than to beg them. They wouldn't tell her anything even if she worshipped them — they could be stubborn when they chose to.
But just then, Anita's phone rang again.
Miridald checked it.
Jenevive. Again.
She took the phone and answered.
"Hello? Anita? What's wrong with you? I've been trying to reach you," Jenevive's voice came out tremulous.
"I know everything. My house. Now," Miridald said and hung up.
She hadn't wanted to sound intimidating.
But she had no choice.
She knew the devastation of a mother when her child was in danger could move mountains.
She needed Jenevive there ASAP.
And she needed answers just as urgently.
---
Jenevive, fuming and agitated, was about to throw the phone when it rang again.
It was one of the bodyguards she had assigned to Edward.
"What!" she snapped.
The man hesitated.
"Speak up now, Wafula, before I lose my patience!" She had already lost it — and by the way she was driving, it was clear she had lost her sanity too.
"We lost him, ma'am. We lost the boy. He eluded us."
Jenevive hadn't known she could be more furious until Wafula called.
"Where?" she asked, her face scrunched up.
"Umoja, ma'am."
"Well, I don't care if you have to scour every sewer and alley there. Find him. And keep him safe!"
She hung up.
Stepping on the accelerator, the car tore through the tarmac — menace-fast and unhinged.
From what Grelad had told her, Lynette could be dangerous.
---
Miridald set the phone back into the basket and slumped onto a box.
She felt overwhelmed — yet deeply sorrowful.
"What do you plan to do, Auntma?" Mdachi asked.
Miridald looked at him devastatingly.
Mdachi felt a chill settle in his heart. "What do you plan to do?" he repeated.
"To protect you. To protect all of you," Miridald said. "Just like I tried to do with Edward — but failed. But don't worry. This time, you won't just forget… you won't get dragged into this again. I'll protect you, just like I was always meant to."
The duo was speechless.
They could have expected anyone but her to be the one who erased her own son's memories.
Mdachi felt dread bloom instantly.
Anita's senses seemed to miraculously return. She became sound again.
"You could never succeed, Auntma!" she blurted desperatly. "You can never beat my mom!"
"Oh, baby." Miridald approached her. "Why do you think the leaves didn't work on me?"
She raised a hand over Anita's face, her fingers caging it.
"I'm not a normal witch," she continued. "I'm a Najzha. Your mom doesn't stand a flick of a chance."
All of Anita's courage waned instantly.
She didn't know why — but she believed Miridald.
She was right.
Her mom didn't stand a chance. Not against a Najzha.
Mdachi felt a panic attack creeping in as he saw Anita succumb. He didn't know what a Najzha meant — but he did know they were truly screwed.
"But don't worry," Miridald's voice softened with genuineness. "I would never hurt you. Ever. I'll keep you safe."
Anita and Mdachi didn't know what to believe.
"Now to get that protection spell off you," Miridald said to Anita, adjusting her hand.
Anita fell into complete despair.
Miridald began chanting.
Her hand glowed.
But suddenly, Mdachi's phone rang again.
It was Edward.