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While the horror scene was playing out in Eku-Obhiosa. Melinda was having a hard time trying to sleep. So she decided to chat with Austin. While they chatted and cracked up each other, Melinda felt she heard a noise in the kitchen. She asked Austin to excuse her for a moment and went to check out what it was. When she stepped into her kitchen, the gas cooker was on. She was sure she turned it off after cooking. Fearing there might be someone else in her apartment, she grabbed her kitchen knife to defend herself and went towards the gas cooker. At this point, her heart was racing very fast and she wished she had her phone on her to call Austin. She thought to turn off the gas and run into the street to call neighbours for help.
As soon as her tender fingers touched the knob of the gas cooker, something unusual happened; a gaint human like shadow grabbed her by her hair and began to drag her across the kitchen floor. When the shadow got to the kitchen wall, it went through it. It was as if it were not there. Instead of coming out at the back of Melinda’s kitchen, the shadow walked through the wall into a forest of tombs lodged deep in a valley filled with darkness. The waters around the forest of tombs shimmered in the dim light of the moon. The evil shadow left Melinda on the floor and vanished into the ill-omened darkness around the valley.
Meanwhile Austin was begnning to worry himself to insanity.
He couldn’t figure out the reason Melinda had taken too long to return to ther chatting. He had called her several times but she didn’t pick up. He feared and began to feel that Melinda must be in trouble. He took his car keys and drove off around 1:35 am to Melinda’s house. He had driven for about thrity minutes when he noticed that something had been following him. It floated in the air and had an appearance he was sure he hadn’t seen before. It was odd, surreal, out-of-this-world, alien and freakish. Austin could feel fear creeping over him; his whole body was becoming numb. For a moment he felt his legs had somehow detached themselves from the rest of his body. His eyes began to close on their own accord. For a moment he thought “Could this be death?” He slowed his speed and ground his car to a halt under a street light.

The inks of the depressed,
The unheard words of the emotional,
The unseen tears of the happy,
The unknown flip side of the transparent.
Kissing the world goodbye,
Hugging the underworld welcome,
Golgotha is the new home,
Being numb and oblivious.
“Good night” and don’t expect another “Good morning”,
Cause the mornings have been miserable; but there is comatose in all nights.
So sleep well and wake up no more.
Sleep and escape from the world!
Or what do you want to wake up to?
To pains? To dejection and rejection? To destitution?
To miseries? To sadness and sorrow?
To unhealthiness? To the seizures of life?
To love that doesn’t exist? To a God who has hidden his identity?
To the empty cosmos and universe?
why do you want to stay?
what for?

Episode 4
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With that shout, Verah began to stretch as if the life in her was fading away. Passer-by began to rush to the scene. This time Austin was the one who asked for prayers “Please can anyone pray for my friend or at least take us to someone who can?”
“There is a church down the end of this street, let us take them there!” shouted someone in the crowd. They lifted Verah and bore her hastily down to the church
. Even simon lent his hands to carry Verah to the church. He had in the heat of that moment forgotton that he too was a target.
When they got to the entrance of the church, Simon slumped to the ground writhing in a horrifying fashion. The gate man quickly opened the gate for them. A man dressed in all white attire stooped to pick up Simon. When the man in all white attire raised his head, Melinda shouted and took off running. Some young men in the crowd ran after her to seize her and bring her in to the church. “What is it Melinda?” Asked Austin. When the head pastor saw two fully grown adults in the throes of death, lying on the floor, he understood they were under an attack, he broke into prayers and the church leaders joined him. Outside the church premises, Austin had figured out who the man in White attire was. The man in white did not go into the church premises.
It was Michael. He had come to keep his promise to Simon and Verah. Austin convinced the young men who had grabbed Melinda to let go of her and led her into the church premises. Melinda could not remember the last time she prayed, but she was ready to pray down a storm to save her friends. Austin went down on his knees, ignoring Melinda who had somehow suddenly transformed herself into a prayer warrior and mumbled. “God I have never known you or prayed to you all my life, but if you are really up there save my friends, and if you can’t, take me in their place”.
A hand rested on his shoulder and a voice said. “God doesn’t have to take you to save your friends. He has already taken someone for that purpose. Austin’s eyes widened in shock; he was praying under his breath. The voice which spoke to him was the young man who prayed for Verah earlier in the day. “How did you hear my words?” Asked Austin. “Take that for a sign that God is real and he cares”, said the young man as he walked away. Melinda didn’t see the young man come into the church premises, her eyes were tightly shut as she invoked all sorts of sipiritual weapons to distory the demonic power behind Michael’s mission. The young man went over to the man who was probably his senior pastor and whispered a few words into his ears. The senior pastor called the prayer to a stop and the young man was allowed the stage to pray for Simon and Verah “Dear heavenly father, I come to you….”
The young man went into a longwinded prayer. When he was done with praying the look on Simon and Verah didn’t seem like God had heard the prayers said. Everyone present waited to see the miraculous happen. The senior pastor turned his look at the young man, wondering why the two adults on the ground had not woken up. The young man didn’t flinch a bit, he was confident his God would prevail in that occasion. He asked some young men to bear the bodies of Simon and Verah, into the church auditorium.
Just when they bent down to carry them a voice was heard. “That won’t be necessary. They are mine now. I am here for their souls”. The pastors and the crowd turned to see who that might be, and it was Michael. Michael walked boldly over to the bodies of Verah and simon and stooped to leave something on their bodies. But the young prayer warrior resisted him and asked “And who made you a soul collector?”
“Young preacher stay out of this”, replied Michael.
“He is responsible for what happened to my friends! The man standing before you is a dead man!” shouted Melinda. The crowd roared in fear and some amongst them ran out of the church compound. The young man charged at Michael and commanded him to leave in the name of Jesus.
The crowd could tell that some form of spiritual contest was about to take place. However, much to the disappointment of the crowd Michael turned and walked away at the command of the young preacher.
Much later in the night, Simon and Verah woke up amid a hot prayer session in the church house.
Four months after the recovery of Simon and Verah, Melinda got an sms which read “Melinda, you should never have meddled with my business. From Michael”. When Austin read the message, he wondered to himself. Are you sure this Michael was ever dead? What if he has all along been working with the Iranian witch doctor? What if all this was a ploy to kill his friends for a hidden purpose in a manner the police won’t ever suspect him? Who could suspect a dead man for killing his friends what if he was the one offering sacrifices with his friends for ‘The Riches of the Grave?. “Babe you know what, let us pay someone to dig up Michael’s grave, maybe he is not the one in that grave”, said Austin to a bewildered Melina.
___________________________
“I want it done professionally. Bring samples and take pictures of whatever you find in that grave”, said Austin “I have dug up many troublesome dead people from their graves. We will dig him up and get you the things you have asked for”, assured Osoba. “Be cautious with this one. On one knows what you might find down there”, “Okay Mr Austin. I have to take my leave now”. Osoba and his friend got in their car and left.
About 11:00 pm, Osoba and his two colleagues made their way into Eku-Obhiosa, in Edo state. Michael’s home town. Some weeks earlier they had scouted the village and took pictures of Michael’s grave, so tonight they knew exactly where to go. Bravely Osoba and his two colleagues made their way to Michael’s grave, with the grave some distance away from residential buildings. It seemed to Osoba that would be their advantage. They didn’t waste time to dig; Osoba spread some potent salt around the grave which was expected to keep the dead quiet and asked his colleagues to start digging. Osoba stood a little away from them looking out for any intruder.
Unexplainably Osoba’s colleagues stopped digging; the two of them rested their chin on the handle of their shovels, looking intensely into the grave. Osoba stepped closer and looked into the grave and there was nothing to make them stop digging, so he said to them “Guys we haven’t got the whole night let’s do this and get away from here. Please start digging”. Osoba had hardly finished his statement when one of his colleagues jerked his face up, his eyes flaming and thrust his shovel into Osoba’s face. Osoba ducked the incoming shovel but a small part of it caught a fraction of of his face tearing it open. The other colleague snarled like a dog and came after him. Osoba pulled out his hand gun and emptied two bullets into his head and he went down to the ground with a thud. He turned to shoot the other guy, but he move too fast for Osoba, he smacked his shovel into the back of Osoba’s neck and sent him crashing to the ground.
With inhuman venom he stood over Osoba’s body and began to beat him with the shovel in his hand. The other colleague Osoba shot jolted and sat up from the ground. In a flash, Osoba could see his death coming. In assublime instincitive reaction, Osoba grabbed the shovel which the other colleague had dropped when he shot at him and plunged it into the colleague standing over him. The colleague staggered allowing Osoba time to stand to his feet. Wincing from much pain, Osoba managed to fight the both of them with the shovel he had just picked up from the ground, Osoba emptied two rounds of bullets into each of his colleagues and limped away to their car, and drove fast out of the village.

Episode 3
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Obiorah stood to his feet and asked to be given some water; which Austin gave to him. Obiorah drank the water so greedily that everyone in the living room could hear him as he gulped down each cup he poured out for himself. It was as if everyone in the living room was waiting for him to finish. He must have read the cue, so he spoke up “Michael is dead, and there is no debating it; however, whosoever brought him back to life, also took Angelique”. “I don’t understand what you meant by that
. Tell me what happened in Malta?” Queried Melinda. “Something we all never took serious happened on that Island nation six years ago. Perhaps it was what killed Michael. We can’t be sure that it was, but it is the only explanation we have for what is happening right now”, explained Obiorah, “But you haven’t told me what happened in Malta” remarked Melinda. “Melinda it was called ‘The Riches of the Grave’. It is no business of yours, just stay out of it. Let those of us who made the choice to wish for ‘The Riches of the Grave’ face the consequences”, said Simon
Obiorah, Verah and Simon stood up to leave “Wait! Let me call him”, said Melinda and rang up Michael’s number, she made sure her phone was on loud speaker. “Hi Melinda how is the get-together going? Are you guys missing me?” Asked Michael.
“If it was death from Michael, that means we have already beaten him once today! All we have to do is go back to the young man who prayed for Verah and all of this will be over”, said Melinda with excitement. Simon jacked his head up and asked. “Do you have the guy’s number?” “He gave me his number; I save it as STRONG PASTOR”, replied Melinda. Melinda began to search through her phonebook to find the guys number; for no clear reason she could not find the name in her phone book and told them so.
“What do we do next?” Asked Simon “Lets go back to that restaurant and look for the pastor. There must be someone there who knows him”, announced Austin. They all ran out and got into Austin’s car and drove off to the restaurant. Surprisingly none of the people knew the young man. “Can’t we find another person to pray for them? We are running out of time?” said Austin “Who do you suggest we go to right now?” Asked Melinda “Anybody who can pray”. They all went outside and stood by the sidewalk. “I am feeling giddy!” Shouted Verah
“I feel Michael is here! I feel him!” shouted Simon. Suddenly Verah shouted.

Episode 2
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Austin stepped into the room when Melinda saw it was her boyfriend, she threw herself at him “What is it? What is wrong with you?”. “I don’t know. I feel fear. I was on the phone with an old friend when he suddenly went silent and after a few moments, I heard I think a woman crying in desperation like she was being killed” “Where is your phone?”. “It is in my room”, replied Melind
. The two of them went into the room and saw the phone on the bed ringing. Austin picked it up and gave it to her.The call was coming from Michael. “Hello Michael! What was that? Who was the woman being killed?”. “Are you sure you are okay? I was on line saying ‘hello’, but you said nothing” explained Michael “I am sure I heard a woman crying desperately. You were silent” “Are you still alone?” Asked Michael “No my boyfriend is here now”, replied Melinda and say goodbye to Michael and hung up the phone
Melinda searched her phonebook, looking for a mumber; she found it and placed a call to another friend of hers.The phone rang momentarily and the friend picked it up “Hi Lanre!”. “What’s up Melinda?” Lanre’s voice sounded groovy and made Melinda to ask.
“I guess you haven’t heard about Angelique’s death?”. “Are you high on something Melinda? Angelique is here with me.We are at the Beach Palm Resort”, said Lanre “You are with who?What you have beside you is a ghost! Angelique died this morning on Maya Avenue! Lanre run! Run away from her!” “Are you nuts Melinda? From where I am standing now,I can see Angelique dancing with my friends”. “Go to her and put her on the phone. I want to speak with her”. “Okay, Melinda,drop the call, once I get to her we will call you”
Melinda sat down on the sofa wondering if she had gone insane, “Why are all the dead people I know coming back to life. Baby, the guy I spoke with earlier on had been dead for six years now. At least I was told he died in a plane crash six years ago in malta. And this morning I ran into him alive and well in a drug store. Right now Lanre is calling to be at Beach Palm Resort with Angelique, who died this morning”. “How did He died?” Asked Austin “Friends told me;I got a call from one of them while I was in london and I saw pictures of his burial. It all happened six years ago”. “And now the very Angelique who showed you pictures of Michael’s burial is dead and somehow back to life according to Lanre”, said Austin as he pondered the mystery
Melinda kept glancing her phone for Lanre’s call as he had promised earlier. When the wait seemed interminable, Melinda asked Austin to dial Lanre’s number. Austin obliged her request and called Lanre from Melinda’s phone. Lanre’s phone rang but no one picked it “Call him back! Something is wrong!” Melinda almost scared Austin out of his skin by the way she shouted. “Okay love, you don’t have to shout that way, I am dialing his number again.Can you calm your nerves please?” This time the phone didn’t ring, they got through to the answering machine which said the number was not available. At this point Melinda could not bear the suspense any longer;she sort of crashed.
******
By the next day Melinda convened a meeting of all her old friends so they could figure out what was going on. Michael cited a few reasons and opted out of the meeting. When they all gathered in Melinda house, Obiorah informed Melinda that Lanre was in the hospital. The story was that he had strangely lost his memory the previous night in search of someone amongst the crowd on the beach. He kept running looking for a woman, when he was asked who he was looking for he could not supply her name. This Lanre kept doing all night until he collapsed and began to foam in the mouth. His friends at the beach rushed him to a hospital where the doctors diagnosed him to have had memory loss.
“I know the woman Lanre was looking for”, said Melinda.
All her friends eyes turned and stared at her, she continued “Lanre was looking for Angelique. They were somehow together last night at the Beach Palm” Melinda’s friends thought that she had gone nuts
“Melinda are you okay? Angelique died yesterday morning how could she be with Lanre by night?” Asked Obiorah “I spoke with Lanre when he was at the Beach last night and he said he was with Angelique. Austin can bear me witness” “Yes,I was here and I heard everything”, said Austin
“That’s not all, friends, Michael Ighalo is in town. Somehow he is no longer dead. I met him yesterday morning”, said Melinda. Melinda’s words hit three people in her living room like bullets; Obiorah,Verah and Simon. Obiorah fell off his seat as though an invisble hand had hit him and began to gasp for breath. Verah and Simon were swallowing saliva nervously. “Verah what are you three afraid of?” Asked Melinda “Michael cannot be alive. My very eyes saw his corpse in Malta and so did Angelique, Lanre, Obiorah and Simon.You see he can’t be alive.You must have seen a ghost”, said Verah “The person I saw was in flesh and blood. Just like you saw his corpse,so have I seen him alive and have spoke with him”.

Episode 1
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Melinda was a few minutes late to an executive meeting in the company where she worked for, but she had to take a brief stop at a drug store to buy some lozenges. She drove into a large shopping mall, darted out her car and dashed into a drug store.”Please do you have any lozenges? I think I am about to have a sore throat”
“Yes I have one”, said the store attendant. The attendant fetched a packet of tablets from the rack
. Melinda grabbed it from her, tore open of the sachets in the pack and dropped two tablets into her mouth and began to lick them quickly “How much is it?” “Five hundred Naira only” replied the attendant.
Melinda dug into her bag in seach of money, when she raised her head to offer the attendant the Five hundred Naira note in her hand, the attendant pointed to someone standing behind Melinda’s back and said “He has taken care of it”. “Who?” said Melinda as she turned to see who was standing behind her.”Holy Jeez-! MICHAEL! Ghost! Ghost!”
Melinda literally leapt over the counter and ran into the room behind the store. The attendant following suit believing that the man who stood in her shop was a ghost. Michael called for Melinda to come back, assuring her that he was no ghost.
Melinda came out.
“This has to be your ghost, right? Tell me this your ghost?”
“I am here in flesh. If I was dead, then who is standing in front of you?” Asked Michael “Your ghost! The ghost of Michael is standing in front of me! I heard you were dead. You died in Malta.You died in a plane crash in Malta.Ehm..Angelique! Yes Angelique! She told me everything about your burial;she even snapped photos of it” Replied Melinda.
“She told you that I was dead? But here I am in flesh and blood.I am no ghost! Okay do your test,prove yourself that I am no ghost”. Melinda grabbed as much flesh on Michael’s hand as she could and pulled hard. “Aw!” Shouted Michael; bleeding. “You are not dead”, “Now do you believe that I am not dead, Melinda?” “Okay you are not dead. But you being alive leaves a lot of questions. There is a grave somewhere which is supposedly your grave. Who is in it? Where on earth have you been all these years? Do you have a contact where I can reach you? Maybe a ghost contact. I have to dash off to a meeting”.
Michael and Melinda exchanged phone numbers and Melinda left for work.
As Melinda drove to work, she couldn’t stop wondering why Angelique told her that Michael was dead. Melinda picked her phone and dialed Angelique’s number. It rang severally and no one picked it. She arrived at the company and was parking her car when her phone rang. She checked it and saw it was Angelique’s number “Hello Anjo (Angelique’s nick name) guess who I saw…” The words of the voice on the other end of the line made Melinda stop cold. The masculine voice said, “Am sorry, this is not Anjo. If Anjo is the owner of this phone number calling you, then I am sorry to tell you that she is dead. She just lost her life in an Auto accident”. “No she can’t be dead! You are wrong!” Melinda shouted crying. “Hello”, said the male voice “…I am calling to inform you of her death because you are the last phone number to have dialed her phone”.
“How did my friend died?” Asked Melinda amid heart-wrenching sobs “Her car screeched to a stop on Maya avenue and she ran out of it as though something in the car was after her. She was shouting incoherently and looking back at her car while trying to cross the road…a car ran over her”.
Melinda began to tremble terribly.
Melinda recovered much later in the day and went home. She then called some of her friends to inform them about Angelique’s death. By the time Melinda was calling, Angelique’s parents had already been informed and have come to identify Angelique’s body as their daughter’s.
Melinda called Michael to inform him about Angelique’s death.
“You won’t believe what happened after I left you. Angelique is dead! She died earlier today…” “Are you sure… Oh my God! What.. Oh God… I don’t know what to say. Are you sure she is dead for real?”
“Believe me Michael, she is dead”.
“How are you feeling now? I know this must be hard for you? Can I come over and be with you?”
“No don’t worry my boyfriend is on his way here”.
“How did it happen? I mean Angelique’s death” asked Michael. “What I was told is shocking, it sounds like something from the movies. I was told she was running away from something in her car when a car rammed into her”.
There was silence on the other side of the phone conversation. “Michael are you there?” There was still silence. “Hello Michael are you there?”
Then came a heart-stopping shriek from Michael’s own end of the conversation. “AAAH! O GOD! AAAAH! NO! AAAAAH”.
The shout jolted Melinda so much she threw her phone on the bed and fled from her room. She was heading for her door when it creaked and began to open. Melinda stood in front of it frozen with fear and her heart pounding away like the rumbling of the sky suring rainy season…

Chapter 2: What’s in a Name
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I continued musing to myself: “If I’ll have the chance to see our father’s face. My entire life, I’ve felt like I was running from a ghost.”
“Don’t—!” Bice raised a finger at me, but was silenced as wind slapped hair across her face. “Trust me, Iz. I’ve seen enough of him for both of us. Christ, my boobs are frozen! Weren’t we going to get shitfaced tonight? We’re doing a pretty crappy job of it.”
I glanced toward the thrumming night club. “Do you need money for a cab or anything?”
“You’re cutting out early?” She stared at me in amazement.
I gestured helplessly. “It’s my mother’s garden party tomorrow.”
“Your mother’s—”
“You know she’s been feeling under the weather lately.” I shrugged. “This will mean a lot to her.”
Only the wind and I succeeded on leaving Bice speechless on a regular basis. “To hell with that! All those girls in there and you’re thinking about your ma’s troop of nuns from church? Saggy Tits and the End Prophet?”
“Yes, they’ll be there.” I smiled. “I find experience and zealous premonitions of the end times exhilarating.”
She looked at me for a moment, and then laughed so hard that she nearly spit out her cigarette. “You’re one of a kind, Iz,” she told me. “This is why I’ve never been able to set you up with a girlfriend.”
“Let’s see. Klara? Wanted to watchJersey Shore. Mirabelle? Couldn’t locate Armenia on a map. Justine? Um…had very elaborate role plays she liked to act out…um…in the bedroom…” I stopped as Bice began to snicker. “You knew! God, thewhinnying! It’s impossible for a girl to like horses that much!”
“I was running out of options! What, do you expect a woman out ofCharlie’s Angels?”
“Actually, I was thinking someone more along the lines of Anna Kravinoff.”
“Who?”
I hurried on before she lost interest. “She’s a BBC journalist on the frontlines of the conflict between Palestine and Israel. She’s extremely insightful and diplomatic but always adds a touch of humor to her reports— She’s been onThe Daily Showtwice.”
Bice poked me in the chest. “You, Iz, are such a snob. Now come get one more drink with me so you can stop pretending you’re so much smarter than the rest of us.”
By the time our empty glasses clinked on the bar, I knew Bice was in a bad way.
“Already empty, and I can’t remember what it tastes like!” She laughed and fiddled with the glass. “Once we go through with this, it will be the same. We won’t remember how it was before. Everything will be forgotten in the night. A bad dream.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I gave her wrist a quick squeeze. “And you’ll be free to come to church with us like my mother always wanted.”
Her laughter hung over garbled conversation, the neon lights of the dance floor, and the musk of aftershave mixed with dreamy perfume. “Thanks, Iz. How am I related to you again?”
“Well, for one, we look so much alike…”
She favored me with another smile—a real one, not the big, fake ones she wears in public, sealed with apple-red lip gloss. It felt safe to leave her in the pulsing, multi-colored shadows of her techno kingdom.
I’d just slipped off the stool when her voice, suddenly sharp and cold, cut through the alcoholic haze: “Ishmael.”
“Yes?”
“If anything goes wrong…” Her finger wiped the lipstick stain off her glass. “You have to run.”

Chapter 1: The Stowaway
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-ISHMAEL-

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I knew I shouldn’t have stowed aboard the train when I hit my head on the luggage rack.
My long arms propelled backwards like an octopus doing the backstroke, and I clocked an old Jewish lady over the head. The verbal tirade of seismic proportions, including: “Can’t you see out of those squinty Arab eyes of yours?” and “Just because you’re as hairy as a donkey does not certify you as a bulldozer!” was enough to knock me back to my feet, but there were more pressing problems to be had.
“Excuse me!” I called to the bustling train car. It was like trying to bring a bunch of pit bulls to attention. “Has anyone seen a black case?”
“A case that’s black?” someone mocked. “Could you be more specific?”
My temper strained. God, this train car was insufferably hot. “It’s long, black, and it isn’t yours.”
“You looking for this?”
The man speaking had a Brooklyn accent and a face that looked like a smashed sausage pizza. He might have been military personnel of some sort, judging from the arrow-straight collared shirt and his air of alertness, like that of a dog hungering against its leash. His boot rested on my slim black rifle case.
Yes. This looked bad.
The man leaned forward so his legs flanked my innocent luggage.
“What’s a kid like you doing carrying a rifle case on board a train?”
“Dude, it’s none of your business—”
He flashed me his badge. A detective. Off-duty. But keen as hell on making a Good Samaritan arrest.
I blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Well, it was the only thing long enough to carry it—”
“Is that agun?” One redheaded girl near the window decided to fill in the blank for me. She would have been cute if she hadn’t been wearing a grimace of horror, as if witnessing the arrival of the Antichrist in olive-skinned, curly-haired form with a too-big shirt that said: “What part of 'R£|<$' don’t you understand?”
“Ohmygod, you don’t think he’s a terr—Jesus, he’s Middle Eastern-looking—”
Actually, I’m pretty dark for someone of Armenian background. My deep olive skin tone comes from my Italian father, a descendant of the southern Sicily region. I also inherited his green eyes like sea glass, which give me the look of “a wise seer,” according to my friends, or, from the unkinder ones, “some blind dude.” When I was younger, I used to feel guilty that I reminded my mother so much of him.
Hoping I struck the former, respected figure, I spread out my arms before whispers of the “T-word,” started. “Please, guys. I don’t have a gun. That’s an early-century Hebrew clerical staff for my mother.”
Everyone stared at me. Someone asked, “The Bleep is a clerical staff?”
“It’s a birthday present for my mother. She’s really into old church artifacts. Please don’t— It’s made of crystal, highly fragile!”
The detective rattled the case around until the latch fell open.
Light rebounded within the staff’s crystal body and gleamed from the eyes of twin “snake-things” I called them, for lack of a better word—dragons, serpents, whatever—that wound around the headpiece, crafted of jade.
I’d been tracking the auction for a while. My mother could give the Catholic Church a run for its money with her obsession over religious artifacts. She inherited a scribe pen and ink holder from her mother in Armenia and has added a scarlet silk altar curtain, a chalice, and several bronze crucifixes to her collection since then. I knew she’d love the staff, particularly deciphering the Hebrew inscription the serpents guarded.
The detective reluctantly handed the staff over. “Tell your mother happy birthday.”
Tension leaked from the over-boiling hate pot, and I swear, people whistled through their teeth indisappointment.
There came a hiss from the front compartment door, and I jumped. I stood staring stupidly at the powerful man standing in the doorway: the conductor. Maybe the trouble started now.
The conductor was two times as wide as me and cast a shadow twice as long. However, there was more off about him than that. Those powerful arms wound down into spider-leg-thin fingers. His nose was too pointy. And his eyes, two blue pinpricks, jumped erratically over the glowing screen of the scanner he held, as if he were being shocked by electricity.
Not yet. I couldn’t get kicked off yet.
“So it’s ticket collecting time, huh?” My voice cracked during my chuckle. The detective cocked his head, a cloud of confusion descending over his face. Great. Was it possible to be any more suspicious? I headed for the back.
I didn’t have a clear plan of how I would stay aboard the train. Ideas jumbled around in my head, and I discarded them just as quickly. Stow away in the bathroom? Bad smell. Bribery? If the conductor was enough of a cheapskate to accept five bucks. Make a friend who could cover for me? Yeah, I had a likeable face. It was one that had been accused of terrorism, but hey, someone had to be feeling guilty over that.
And running. Running was always easiest.
Pretending not to notice the mean little eyes following every swing of my black rifle case, along with one’s hilarious wisecrack—“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out”—I emerged from the car into cool, fresh air. Scratch the “making friends” part. God, what the Bleep waswrongwith those people?
It had to be my imagination. Rumor of a gun on any form of public transportation would spark some fear. Or, I thought, glancing toward the large brass “W” on the door, spark a fight with the people of Car W.
This was karma. Some people are on her radar, and some aren’t. Take my cousins: the twins Alessio and Aris. Alessio breaks into cars and leaves them in tow away zones for his brother to pick up. You’d be amazed at how much money they make off of it. Alessio’s specialty is Ferraris. The twins would never admit to the set-up, of course, but when you walk through the lot of A&A’s Big Toe, the sunlight bounces off enough butterfly doors to make a kaleidoscope. True to the family name, they love Italian cars. The worst thing that’s happened to them is being forced to share a Maserati after Aris crashed his into an ex-girlfriend’s house. Me, I catch a ride on earth-saving public transportation and nearly end up paying for it with my mother’s birthday present.
My name is Ishmael.

PROLOGUE
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February 30th. Year of the Miser.
Sunday?
9:00 am. No, might as well say 11. I’m never up early on a Sunday.
I’m going to die someday.
I don’t know when I became particularly aware of this. I could have been five and heard about my grandparents passing away in faraway Armenia. I could have been nine and our fourth grade teacher broke down in the middle of class, struggling to get out the word “cancer.” We don’t know how it will happen. We don’t know when. We only know why.Our bodies are fleeting.Our time on this Earth will be as well.
I will always love my mother. Especially since the older I get, the more I realize just how crazy she was. For example, she never let me ride roller coasters. Chinar Abajian didn’t trust any man-made machine without a perfect safety record, which is probably why it took her forever to get anywhere.
She also believed in guardian angels. I blame Father Adonis of our third church, who convinced her that guardian angels follow us around, scribbling down our every misdeed, or Tweeting it for the amusement of the Heavenly Host. If you did dangerous things that threatened the sanctity of life, aka, pogo-sticking, then you threatened your chances of getting into heaven.
“So how many dangerous things can you do before they won’t let you in?” I’d asked. I’d fancied my guardian angel (who wore a Yankees cap and munched on a never-ending supply of candy corn) enjoyed the side adventures Mother didn’t know about: double-dipping on movies at the theater, trading a pair of her earrings for a baseball card, staying up past twelve on a school night. Yep, I was a badass.
She’d mussed my hair. “When you become a monster, Ishmael. When you look in the mirror and don’t recognize yourself. Monsters don’t belong in heaven.”
I didn’t ride a roller coaster until I was sixteen.
What my mother didn’t tell me was that things tend to come in pairs. We have Heaven and Hell. So it follows that there’d be guardian angels…and monsters. The kind who do the opposite of your guardian angel. The type who enjoy screwing up your hard work, who trip you right before you’re about to cross the finish line. It’s easier to destroy than to create.
Or so my own personal monster tells me now.

-INCUS-

“All aboard?”
“Check.”
“Even Cyprus? She got away from you last time, Incus.”
Incus scowled. “Just get this lot on the tracks, Ortio. I showed her to the compartment myself.”
Ortio raised his hands. “Alright, cool it, big guy! I’m just saying: they blame both of us if we don’t come through, you know?”
Incus grabbed his scanner and clomped back toward the passenger cars. “I’m already stuck here with you, what more could they do to me?” he muttered.