18°41'34.2"N 12°55'10.6"E - Bilma, Niger

23.05.2024 – 01:00 UTC +01

I gazed out the window of the suite. I could feel my pulse through my neck veins. This was the adrenaline of the Nabd-hunt, fueled mad by my Calling. There was something I was supposed to do in Bilma, for that I was certain now, and it was only a matter of me surrendering for the night. Whether my Calling was triggered by the attack on my brother or by simple coincidence, it did not matter. Allowing it to guide me was my best bet right now.

My initial plan was a quite standard one: walk out at night from establishment to establishment, waiting until I would walk into one with members of the Ngâm Kúrà or simply until my sense of Nabd kicked in, fueled by the traces of my prey on the blood-riddled cloth tucked in my pocket.

Unfortunately, my Calling would beg to differ, driven by its own ambitions. I looked at the flower of the Baobab on the palms of my hand. The Baobab tree outside my balcony was not in bloom – but the single flower in my hand had somehow acted as an omen when I had picked it up earlier today. I had to follow my Calling.

My phone rang.

“Yes, Walid,” I asked, still looking outside the window.

“Your brother is now stationed in his room.”

“Did Mr. Yakubu protest?” I had paid the owner of the Baobab-Inn a handsome fee to allow us to extend our stay indefinitely, and let our men turn my brother’s room into an infirmary. It was a risky move financially, as it almost emptied half our budget. If our mercenaries knew of this, we would lose many of them. But it did not matter, as my Calling was holding the driving wheel right now.

“Not at all. He is a friendly guy, Miss. What should we do now?”

“Choose three of your men. I need an escort team in Bilma. Have them ready with a car in ten minutes. The rest of you stay with my brother and even if a single leaf lands weirdly out the window, you give me a call. Got it?”

“Yes, Miss.”

I hung up the phone and turned towards the mirror. I hadn’t looked as well dressed in weeks. I wore a dress with three layers, in different shades of bright or washed-out white. I placed the alien-looking white flower of the Baobab next to my ear.

It fitted perfectly.

I was not sure if anyone would find me desirable in this dress. That was not what I was going for. I untied my hair from its tight braid, and let it flow and spring naturally up and down around my head, much like a lion’s mane. I smirked at the thought, as this was exactly my intention. Desire? Maybe. But with a hint of fear.

It was not a long ride to the unknown. Passing through various neighborhoods of the center, I let my Calling decide the evening. I commanded one of our men through the relatively empty streets. It was one hour after midnight on a Wednesday, but I was sure this city did not sleep.

“Here,” I said as we pulled up next to a big venue with a modern design. Its balconies and windows were lit, and its corners were covered with thick-leaved vines.

Two men were at the club entrance, wearing the characteristic expressions of bouncers.

“Please park nearby and be ready,” I said to the driver “And you two. Come with me and keep your eyes focused.”

“For what miss?” one of them asked, but I did not answer. I was already heading out of the car and towards the club entrance. They joined, somewhat begrudgingly.

One of the bouncers spoke in Kanuri to me, as I came near in. Then he repeated in broken Arabic:

“This is a private establishment madame.” He smiled approaching me.

“I am not a madame,” I said, without reciprocating the smile. It felt as if seconds froze, and I focused on the bouncer’s Nabd coming closer. I could count the moments and could feel his pulse joining mine – and although mine raced faster with adrenaline, his pulse slowed down. And down, and down.

The man collapsed right in front of me. “Shit,” said one of my men, perhaps caught off guard by my approach.

“Oh no! Sir, something is up with your friend!” I said with the most damsel-in-distress voice I could muster. The second bouncer ran towards us, yelling the man’s name.

As he closed in, he collapsed into a deep sleep as well. I looked around, as I commanded my two men.

“Take their mics. Gag them and put them in the trunk. They will be asleep for a while, so now you are the bouncers. No one gets in or out.”

“And you miss?” one of them asked.

“Oh, I will crash a party,” I said.

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I took the elevator to the fifth floor. There was no one else to stop me, except for myself.

What am I even doing? Is my Calling broken?

The elevator’s bell rang as it opened its doors on the fifth floor. I was now in a huge luxurious ballroom with low lighting, its western side was practically an enormous crystal window. It was not exactly glass, as its crystalline texture was visible from the other side of the room, and it filtered the outside lighting with a scarlet hue.

As the bell rang, everyone turned to stare at me. Around twenty men and just as many women, dressed in revealing and expensive dark, red, and gold outfits were now looking at me. They were in groups of two or three and from their body language, I had just interrupted all their discussions.

My dress’s white was dazzling compared to the darker décor, and it worked in my favor. I tapped into all their Nabd.

I could feel their heartbeats, their blood flow, their intensity. Some of them were bored, some annoyed. Some were worried, and some were excited to see me. I held onto their Nabd. This was not a friendly visit.

I breathed in deep, and as I held my breath, I could feel everyone’s heart slow down, just enough. Nobody was moving.

I walked down the stairs in front of the elevator, and as I approached the crowd, I heard a few glasses fall, perhaps from the faintest of hearts.

I started speaking in Kanuri, the way I had rehearsed.

“I was told that if I pluck the flower of the Baobab, the lions will get me. I am here for the pride’s leader.”

A man’s pulse rose ever so slightly. I raised my hand and pointed at him.

“You shall take me to them.”

He snapped out of my hex and hesitantly walked towards me. He passed by me and towards the elevator.

I joined him in.

“As you were,” I said in Arabic just before the doors closed and released everyone from my control.

The man in front of me was terrified, as I could hear his heart rate with no effort. With a shaken hand he pressed the button to the ninth floor. He was not simply afraid of me, but also our destination.

“Don’t be afraid,” I told him trying to control and bring down his heart rate.

The bell rang once we reached the ninth floor.

“Go on,” I said, as I stood back. Once the doors opened two bullets hit his sternum and dropped bleeding, buying me a valuable second to sense and grab onto the Nabd of the gunmen.

“That is rich.” A woman’s voice said in perfect Arabic. The room was the same size and style as the one on the fifth floor but only partly lit, primarily with a dark blue hue at the room’s center. This was the real private party, with only four people sitting around a table. A fifth one, equally well dressed, was holding a bottle of liquor. At the center of the room, a woman with tightly braided hair was smoking an extremely long cigar, explaining the thick smell of tobacco.

In a moment, seven men around the room collapsed. The gunmen that had fell under my sense of Nabd.

“That is tiring,” I responded.

The woman sucked on the cigar with an unusual passion. One of the men around her attempted to say something.

“Sit down.” The woman said. “The lions speak now.”

I approached the group slowly. I had interrupted some serious scheming, that was very obviously led by that woman. Future plans were being formed, a celebration of old plans perhaps, probably illegal and related to that Ngâm Kúrà gang.

No. Something else was happening as well. Not everyone there had the same intentions. One of the men, the one holding the bottle of liquor, was trembling, his Nabd fueled by adrenaline, much like mine. He was caught red handed.

“You. What is your name?” I asked pointing at the man.

Everyone looked at the woman.

“Don’t be rude, answer the question,” the woman said, not taking her eyes off me.

“Kabiru,” he said, with a deep voice.

“Kabiru. You should drink now,” I suggested

“What is the meaning of this?” Kabiru protested.

“You heard the girl,” the woman said, always with the same stern look right at me. “We were about to share a glass. Have the first shot.”

The man trembled, as the woman puffed a cloud of smoke out her mouth.

“Drink,” she said.

Behind me, I heard the elevator’s bell ring, as more people were about to enter the room. I froze, as a feeling of dread started rushing through me, replacing the confidence of the adrenaline from before. Not just because my hexes of the Nabd were all but drained at this point. But also because the Calling that has been surging me and motivating me the past minutes through the city and this venue, suddenly disappeared.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the woman said towards me, as I heard guns armed behind me “Let Kabiru have a drink before you shoot the girl. Let us see what happens.”

Kabiru held the bottle with a shaken hand. He put the bottle’s lid on his mouth and seemingly gulped but faked it. The woman stood up, revealing her abnormal height, perhaps over two meters tall. She left her cigar on the table. She looked right at me before she turned to Kabiru.

“The girl had a great idea. Drink, Kabiru.” She grabbed the bottle with one hand, and with the other one, she grabbed his face and opened his mouth. The man downed a few gulps instinctively before he started to fight back with his hands. The tall woman let him go and left the bottle gently on the table.

Kabiru fell on his behind on the floor crying, trying to spit the liquor out.

“Speed it up,” the woman said sucking the air through her teeth, “take him out of his agony.”

This command was for me. I tuned into his Nabd. He was indeed in agony. I could feel his heart beating erratically, betraying his desperation. I breathed out as deeply as I could, emptying the oxygen of my lungs. And with my exasperation, his heart rate almost doubled. The blood inside his veins sped up, spreading whatever it was that he imbibed, exponentially faster.

“No, Lioness, I will-” he tried to say, as the veins in his skin turned white. He fell on the ground. Soon his Nabd disappeared from my senses.

The woman turned towards me and smiled. I did not even dare to breathe. I hardly understood what I had just done and why my Calling had led me to barge into all of this.

“Well, I’ll be. Guns down,” she said and everyone behind me obeyed “That is one cursed flower right there.”