When Narvari and Azmel emerged from their portal in the lonely alley, it was long past noon.

Soon, they were thrown into the beautiful chaos of the bustling city. People and traffic were the order of the day. All kinds of commercial buildings like banks, stores, and supermarkets, lined up on both sides of Adeyemi Street. They stopped in front of a massive building with a gym and salon on the ground floor. They entered the salon.

The coolness of the air conditioner was a reprieve from the scorching heat outside. Women of varying ages sat under hair dryers, chatting among themselves. A group of hairstylists wearing a matching red T-shirt with the name Her Majesty Beauty Palace stylishly printed on it attended to other customers.

“Sweetheart, are you here to do your hair?” A middle-aged woman with a lot of make-up and sophisticated hair-do approached Narvari. She smiled warmly and nodded in what Narvari assumed as appreciation. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks,” Narvari dug her hands in her pockets. “And no, I’m not here for a hair-do.” Her cornrows were still in good condition. Also, Anana had taught her how to braid her hair. She didn’t remember the last time she went to a salon. Not even for washing. She would buy her hair products and wash her hair in the shower.

“Oh. Is it your friend here then? The woman flashed her smile at Azmel. As she moved her hands widely to complement her enthusiasm, her bangles rattled. “Don’t worry sir, we do all kinds of hair for all kinds of people.”

“We’re looking for Lena Abiola,” Azmel said. “She works here, doesn’t she?”

The woman hesitated for a moment as if she didn’t trust them. But then she suddenly shouted at the top of her voice. “Lena. Oya, come here.”

Jesus. Narvari clenched her teeth. Could she be any louder?

A curvy young woman with beautiful box braids held up in a bun came through a door inside the shop.

“These people are looking for you,” said the older woman. “Do you know who they are?”

Lena silently stared at Narvari and Azmel. She shook her head. “No, madam.”

“Okay.” The madam took Lena’s hand and gently pulled her to her side. “Time to go, you two.”

Azmel did not move. “We are here because of Flores.”

Lena narrowed her eyes.

“Can we talk in private?” asked Azmel.

After hesitating for a while, Lena nodded.

The madam asked in Yoruba if Lena was sure about this. She said Lena didn’t have to talk to them if she felt uncomfortable. But Lena only smiled sadly and said she would be okay. She needed to hear what they had to say about Flores. Casting one last glance at them, the madam nodded, agreeing to let Lena talk to them.

“How do you know my sister? Do you know where she’s gone?” Lena bombarded them with questions as soon as they stepped outside.

“One question at a time, Lena,” said Azmel. “We’re working on your sister’s case but the information we have is not enough. That’s why we’re here.”

According to the case file, Flores Abiola was only seventeen years old and a university freshman studying biochemistry at the University of Lagos. She lived with her older sister, Lena Abiola, a twenty-seven-year-old hair stylist. Three days ago, Lena had reported her younger sister missing.

“You two are the police?” Lena asked skeptically. Her gaze fell too long on Narvari and Narvari could practically see the gears of mistrust turning in Lena’s head.

“We’re not the police,” said Narvari quickly. “We’re just working with them at the moment.” Afterward, she introduced Azmel and herself to Lena. “What can you tell me about your sister? Anything you think might be related to her disappearance? It doesn’t matter how small.”

“Well, she came back from school a month ago. You know, Flores, she’s very smart. Smarter than anyone in our family, to be honest.” What could only be rage clouded Lena’s eye like a tempest. “And that bastard destroyed her life. I want to kill him.”

“Who?”

Lena’s lips quivered. But after inhaling and exhaling a few times, she calmed down a little. “When Flores came from school she was depressed. It was not like her at all. We were very close, you know, and we talked about everything. She talked to me whenever she had something on her mind. She was so happy to go to university so I knew she would tell me all her experiences when she got back. But I was wrong. She wouldn’t talk to me or anyone. Trust me, Flores likes to talk.”

“Did you know what was going on with her?”

“Not at first,” said Lena. “But then later, I found a used pregnancy test in the bathroom.”

“Was she pregnant?” asked Narvari.

“She tried to deny it at first. But she later admitted it. I asked her who the father was and she said it didn’t matter because she was going to abort it anyway. To be honest, I was angry with her about everything. I never had the chance to further my education and I didn’t want the same for my sister. How could she get so careless? I told her she couldn’t get an abortion.”

Lena explained that abortion in Nigeria was illegal and punishable by a heavy sentence. Even if Flores did have the abortion somehow without being caught, it would be unsafe and Lena might lose her sister in the process. So she advised her sister to keep the pregnancy. Once she had the child, they would figure out what to do.

“But she just broke down and told me she couldn’t keep the baby.” Lena paused, biting her lips. “She said she would kill the baby and herself if that happened.” Lena chocked. “Someone… some bastard raped my sister at a party.”

“What?” Narvari’s eyes darkened. “Oh my god. Did she report it?”

“She doesn’t remember who it was because she was drugged.” Lena shook her head sadly. “The moment she told me, I was ready to go to the police. But she didn’t want me to. She said it would only get negative publicity because there was no evidence and people would rather treat her like it was her fault she got raped. Sadly it’s the truth.”

Narvari clenched her jaws, her blood threatening to explode. Sometimes it was impossible to tell the difference between demons and humans.

“Flores begged me to help her get an abortion,” Lena continued. “It broke my heart so I tried to get medical and legal help. It seemed all hope was lost until God sent us a miracle.”

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A woman, named Doctor Charity, visited them at home and told them she had heard about their plight. The woman offered to help them and said they could get Flores the abortion legally. They would have nothing to worry about the law and Flores would be safe. The woman left them her business card and said they could contact her anytime.

It was more than a blessing. The hospital where Doctor Charity worked fulfilled its promise. They even offered to give Flores therapy to help her cope with her trauma. And they did everything for free.

“It all made a difference, you know,” said Lena. “Flores didn’t heal overnight but after two weeks I could see a difference. She was making slow progress. At least that’s what I thought. But I guess I was wrong about it. Maybe I only saw what I wanted to see.” Lena’s eyes reddened. “One day Flores was just gone.”

Azmel said, “It’s in the report that you last saw her here.”

Lena nodded. “I didn’t want her to be left alone so I always brought her to work.”

“It also says that she left at one o’clock.” Azmel paused. “But it doesn’t say where she went.”

“Well, she only said she was going for a walk to get some fresh air. That was it. I thought it would be good for her so I let her go. She didn’t come back to the shop so I thought she went home. She didn’t come home and when I called her phone, it was dead. I even called the therapist at New Life but he said Flores never showed up.”

Narvari raised a brow. “I’m sorry, New Life?”

Lena paused before nodding. “Yes.”

“Do you mean New Life Hospital?”

“Yes. That’s where Doctor Charity works. The same hospital Flores had the abortion.”

“And it’s here in Lagos?”

Lena nodded. She had a perplexed look on her face as if she could not fathom why they would be suddenly so interested in the hospital.

Narvari glanced at Azmel. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something.

“Why did you call the hospital when your sister went missing?” Azmel asked.

“Because she had therapy at three o’clock. I thought she went there straight once it was time.”

“I see.”

Narvari bit her lips, her mind racing with thought. Was there something deeper going on here? It was hard to believe so. New Life Hospital might be the common factor in both cases, but it could still be a coincidence. It wasn’t strange that two of the victims had received treatment in one of the largest hospitals in the cities. She was sure that if they asked the first twenty people they met which hospital they last went to, they would all say New Life Hospital. Just because they were looking for a pattern didn’t mean they could just make unfounded deductions. This could all be a coincidence.

“It may or may not be a coincidence,” said Azmel once Lena went back inside the salon, leaving them alone. He ran his hand through his shoulder-length blond hair. “We’ll need more data to prove it. Narvari, we can’t take anything for granted. Do you understand?”

Narvari nodded. She couldn’t have agreed more.

By the time they had interrogated six more relatives of the victims, it was clear that New Life Hospital was no mere coincidence. Four out of the six victims had gone missing a few days after visiting the hospital for various reasons. As for the other two, their relatives had no idea about any hospital visit.

Narvari and Azmel teleported back to the police headquarters. Both teams shared what they had gathered and it was clear that the majority of the victims had a connection to the New Life Hospital in some way before they all went missing.

Zemeron’s team had also found a new connection to the case.

“Nine of the victims were being tested in Winfield Research Institute for genetic disorders before they mysteriously vanished,” said Zemeron. He pasted the picture of an ultramodern research building at the center of the evidence board right next to the New Life Hospital. “But somehow their disappearance cannot be traced back to the hospital.”

“But even if the hospital is somehow connected to this,” said Narvari, “what has it got to do with demons?”

Yanvirrak scoffed. “You still haven’t grasped how entirely unpredictable demons can be, have you, Shar?”

“Azmel,” Zemeron said before Narvari could say anything, “what do we know about New Life Hospital?”

Azmel quickly typed something on the screen of his xuul and a three-dimensional holographic projection of his screen appeared above the xuul. Azmel zoomed the screen large enough to fill the wall — images of New Life Hospital and information about the hospital.

“The third-largest hospital in Lagos,” Azmel said. “The current managing director is Doctor Christoffer Nielsen, a former neurologist.” A picture of a middle-aged white man in square-rimmed glasses appeared.

Zemeron’s glassy blue eyes remained fixated on the images. “What about Winfield Research Institute? What’s the connection between Winfield and New Life.”

Azmel’s fingers quickly went to work, and soon, new records showed up. Narvari never imagined Azmel was such a pro at hacking. She glanced at her xuul. It seemed she was underusing the device. Her attention went back to the large screen. Azmel pulled up a video and pressed play. A well-dressed man with the most charming smile addressed the audience. His name appeared at the bottom of the screen — Doctor Gambo Ibrahim, Head of the Genetic Engineering Department, Winfield Research Institute.

“Nature is powerful,” said Doctor Ibrahim flashing his signature smile. “But what many don’t know is that nature endows her power unto us. This is why we fight back when she strikes in fury. Well, sometimes we fail miserably.” He paused, to which the crowd chuckled. “But,” he continued, as the laughter died, “there are times when we succeed. When we take the desert nature gives us and transform it into an evergreen forest.”

What was it with this guy and metaphors? Narvari rolled her eyes.

“Of course, our success often comes at a price,” Doctor Ibrahim said. “It costs us time, money, and yes, our sanity.” More laughter. “We at Winfield Research Institute, with the singular goal to make humanity better, believe we must pay this price no matter the cost. That is why our team of dedicated scientists spearheaded groundbreaking research we dubbed Project FreeBorn twenty years ago. It had one simple goal — to make humanity healthier and live longer, at an average age of two hundred years. This is the dream of Project FreeBorn.”

Damn, that was one ambitious dream. Admirable but ambitious.

“Our research is quickly gaining momentum and we are on the verge of a breakthrough,” he said. “We envision a world where people are born healthy and free from birth defects or diseases. Winfield Research Institute wants a healthy future for all and I am humbled to say that we are going to see that happen in our lifetime.” The crowd erupted in applause.

Azmel paused the video pulling out an endless string of letters and numbers on the screen.

“Now, on the surface, it’s impossible to find any connection between Winfield and New Life.” Azmel scrolled through the string of numbers and letters. “But I did a little more digging and found this.”

An image of a suave handsome South Asian man in a tailored wine suit appeared. This was followed by several images of the same man, posing with people in white lab coats.

“Peter Khan,” said Azmel.

“Wow, Peter Khan?” Yanvirrak grinned. “I can’t imagine what his childhood was like.”

“He’s the connection.” Azmel ignored Yanvirrak’s pettiness.

“Who is that?” Narvari asked.

“He heavily funds Winfield and New Life,” said Azmel. “But it’s not only that. Khan used to fund other hospitals and research institutions all over the world. But he stopped most of the funding. I believe it has to do with the negative press these institutions now have in their countries.”

“Negative press?”

Azmel nodded. “Patients and relatives of deceased patients sued the hospitals for all kinds of things like unethical treatments and negligence. There’s even a case of someone who was reported dead by the hospital, yet their body was refused to be given to the family.”

Narvari gaped at the screen of an old woman crying about her son and imploring the government to do something about it. This happened in Cambodia.

“Let’s see if I can find any scandal attached to New Life or Winfield.”

After a few seconds, Azmel narrowed his eyes.

The headline of a newspaper appeared on the screen: Man sues New Life Hospital for giving his wife cancer.

Yanvirrak gaped. “Well, damn.”

“The case was dismissed,” said Azmel.

According to the report, the lawyers argued that Joshua Nnamdi’s wife already had cancer. Joshua admitted that his wife already had cancer, but he insisted that a new treatment the hospital was giving her made her cancer worse, eventually killing her.

Zemeron studied the screen quietly. It was like his mind was digesting everything and putting all the pieces together. Finally, he said, “Azmel, send me everything you have on Joshua Nnamdi.”

Azmel nodded.

Zemeron glanced at his xuul. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll pay Mr. Nnamdi a visit.” He glanced at each of them, with grave intensity. “You four will go to New Life Hospital to gather intelligence. But you must be discreet. If there are indeed demons involved, we don’t want them to know we are on to them. Understood.”

“Yes,” They nodded.

“Good.” Zemeron nodded. “First, we’ll have to do something about that uniform.”