Ngozi & Nabila

When you encounter pure, certain evil it changes you. These unfortunate souls indulge in wickedness for the sake of seeing others suffer. There is no reasoning with the fanatic, the pure in heart on either end of the spectrum. Their belief is the only truth and in too many instances they are underestimated.

Malcolm and Beatrice had chosen, thoughtfully, their daughters names. Their first, now close to twelve, was a breeched baby that almost died at birth. The mid-wife who helped deliver her looked down at her and said she was perfect, a blessing. So they called her Ngozi, which means blessing. Malcolm, being the proud black man he is I believe he wanted a son to carry his name, perhaps this is why they called their second daughter Nabila, African for Noble. Now their noble blessing was missing, taken from them on my watch and I couldn’t rest until the balance was restored.

I was alone in a neighboring canfield, my eyes pressed shut, isolating the sounds of the night. I turned my thoughts away from the tears of parents and their silent, desperate pleas for the lives of their girls. People’s hearts beat differently and uniquely so when they are excited or afraid. I focused on the girls, their laughter, their breathing, the rhythm of their heartbeats. It was no more than a soft, muffled, whimper made silent after a few short seconds. Then I heard and felt their heart rhythms. One heightened and afraid, the other weak and fading. Thought became movement and in moments I covered the thousand yards to the spot where the girls were being held.

Ngozi was being held firmly in place by several tiny pairs of hands while others held Nabila as her life force seemed to drain slowly from her. Not in the same way that my kind takes life, this seemed to be more about the removal of the spirit. Her heart was on the verge of stopping when my presence startled their spirit captors. Eyeless sockets looked up at me from bodies that only appeared young at a cursory glance. I could sense no emotion from them and no heartbeat. Toothless mouths were agape, emitting an ear piercing scream. Instinctively I bared my fangs and released an angry scream of my own. The duennes scattered like roaches exposed to sudden light. The girls were both in a catatonic state and Nabila was quickly slipping into permanent darkness.

I wanted more time to consider my actions, a different solution to what was before me. But as the time slipped away I focused on saving their lives, and there was only one way I could think of to accomplish this. As I cut the flesh on my wrist and dripped my blood over their lips a feeling of dread and regret overwhelmed me.