Anira, spelled and pronounced in reverse order, was Arina's name as the Queen Witch in the astral underworld.
She arrived at Enaho's compound minutes away from time up, and she was in a haste to perform her urgent mission.
Her astral body paused and hovered in the air to view the scene outside Omogbon's erie. At a glance, she saw the nursing mother and Otiti outside the erie. This immediately activated her alert button. It could mean only one thing, Oji'oboh was inside the erie.
Something like a fierce spasm shook her lithe figure. She was now getting advanced in age, in her middle fifties and grey-haired, with a fair share of wrinkles on her countenance, but she still retained traces of her age-defying supple figure that trademarked her early days. She was invisible to the mother and her daughter outside the erie, in the moonlit night, waiting for Baba to finish whatever he was doing with the baby inside.
To Anira, time was already of the essence, so she would have to proceed to deal briskly with the issues as they come, including, a possible clash with Oji'oboh, if indeed he was in there. After all, she still had two lifeline talismans left.
For now, the target was the newborn baby.
She dived headlong towards the entrance to the erie. Suddenly, she was stopped midway as she ran into a force field that blocked her descent. She let out a sharp cry in an astral voice that was not audible to normal ears. She knew immediately what she had gotten herself into! Someone had woven a force field barrier around the erie.
Oji'oboh.
It was made up of a high-level, spirit realm, a magical array of strong twigs and sharp brittles that capture intruders with the twigs and entwine them with the brittles to choke their lives out in seconds.
As Anira screamed soundlessly, she knew she had been had. She had fallen at last into Oji'oboh's famed eijatan (unknotable) trap.
Her mind was in tumult. Was this her end? Queen witch, have you fallen? The great first wife of Oji'oboh, (ohku'Oji'oboh n'odion), and his tormentor-in-chief, have you become one of his conquests?AWALEEE! AWALEEE!! AWALEEEEEE!!! TABOOO! TABOOO!! TABOOOOOO!!!
In the fleeting twilight between life and death, the great Yellow Witch saw a vision. It was a familiar sight, a recurring experience that now defined her raison'deta. It happens mostly at the oddest times, like when mating with Oji'oboh, during childbirth, or in times of dire danger, such as this terrible moment. It was the face of a man with a shrunken right eye, scowling in indescribable contortions, as the Shakespearian gorgon, that one eye with behemoth intensity, piercing at her through time and space, and the draconian voice, exploding in her brain all over again, Revenge! Revenge!! Revenge!!!, even as the twigs caught her and the brittles began to choke her, going direct for her heart.
Her voice rang out, soundless, yet blood cuddling and harsh, as her father's, almost:
NOOOOOO!!!
Talisman.
Desperately, her eyes widened and blinked, her eyes decisively fluttered open and close, as she uttered the invocation of the amulet or talisman that breaks barriers and traps. It was almost too late, and if it fails, it would have meant her end.
Aigbogba khè eni! No fence stops the elephant!
It worked.
A horde of demons hurriedly mobilized about her and a tiny crack appeared in the blockading array. Anita saw the lifeline and mustered her last breath to slip through the crack. She broke through, narrowly, thanks to her guardian demons.
She stayed in shape in space briefly to gather her strength, still mindful of time, looking resolutely down at her target.
The next moment, she glided down to stand at the door of the erie, every inch of azen body or coven being alert.
She was seething in rage. She didn't expect to find him here. The sly old fox himself, was he not supposed to be sleeping off the effects of the night-long party? His presence here posed a big complication to her plan. She was never his match, day or night.
Cautiously she put her ear against the door and drew away again sharply as if she was expecting to receive a slap. She summoned courage and leaned close again to listen, trying to probe his aura. She gained some courage and listened intensely. If he had detected her presence he would he'd have dealt with her by now. Her azen antennae floated through the door into the room and spread out in spiraling strands of invisible proboscises.
First, she identified the baby, but as her antennae got close it hit a blunt barrier and was repelled with a force that affected her outside, and sent her staggering away from the door.
She pulled herself together. Tentatively she mulled the idea of aborting the mission, at least for now. After all, is it not a popular saying, he who fights and runs away... Two opposing forces were in collision inside her now, ...lives to fight another day. But must she keep running away? A stubborn streak flashed in her eyes.
She had not come this far to skit away like a chicken
She floated back to the door and probed into the erie again.
This time she avoided the baby, she was curious and cautious about the old fox.
Her proboscis approached him again. At first, what she decoded was stealthy respiration. What's going on in there? He wouldn't be sleeping on the floor now, would he? What a joke! He also cannot expect her to fall for that crap. Or, for crying out loud, he must be trying to bait her. He's stalling for time. When the rush hour is done she would be forcefully pulled out of that place to enter her sleeping form in a vortex-like procedure. Yet she detected something else. Something rapid, something like quick taps, something..., something fluttering, shuoh! Panic? What the heck is going on!?
Time Time Time!!!
That must be it! But then, whatever, she had to act now or never.
She turned and rested her back against the door. The faintest cloud of smoke rose around her and she floated through the door directly into the room.
Across the space, from where the Oji'oboh's orion (spirit form) stood in a place far away struggling to join his body, his heart sank.
I am not going to die. He clenched his right fist and screamed soundlessly. He fact-checked himself. Yes, he was the Oji'oboh, the great diviner, he comes from a long line of mystics, he cannot die just like that in the hands of a witch, Queen witch, or whatever. He rose high into the, where he was, far away from his body, and started spinning in space, willing his orion to join his body and rise to the occasion. His ramblings assumed the form of incantation:
He was the akakahiaka, ezighizighi, odumodu, heu, eni nejiadede, ebibi noze, ikpakperan, heuuu, ikhien n'ojielimhin gbe n'obhokhan na yankon an? Danmhegbe, danmhegbe nonsen, oboh non'khua, ghai de n'ajie, Ihu! Ihuu!!... IHUUUU!!! He went on and on.
Roughly translated:
He was the strength of the strong, the master scatterer, the greatest lion, alas, the elephant that cannot be embraced, tough bark of a tree, alaas, can a minor smile at the dance of the evil spirits? Try hard, try harder, witch doctor of the first order, don't fall to be scorned, I strive! I strive!!... I STRIIVVEEE!!! He went on and on...
Inside Omongbon's erie. A black ekpekpughu (owl) bird solidified in the air, just above the bed on which the baby lay sleeping.
The scenario before her was more mysterious and awry. As a witch, Anira has seen similar spectacles multiple times, of helpless victims lying immobilized under her spell. But the victims were usually mortals of lesser calibers, not the stature of the redoubtable Oji'oboh. Enaho lying faint on the floor?! Stark naked, his igbulu native attire and izakpa flywhisk kept on the floor by the bed.
Incomprehensible!
Impossible!
A TRAP?
WHY?
For a crazy moment, despite the damning pressure of time the queen of witches was transfixed, stunned motionless, benumbed by what she was seeing. Her only objective before now was to eliminate the baby. But Enaho's presence was an unexpected complication. There was no time now to crack the odeishi on the baby. The backlash she felt from it earlier was too strong for a quick fix. She'd have enough time for the little brute later. Enaho was enough challenge for now.
In her brain, all kinds of alarm bullhorns formed an outrageous doomsday buzz. It conveyed an eerily ominous portend. Run Run Run, an inner voice kept urging her, no you must do and dare to destroy, to damn or be damned, another inner voice countered.
Finally, she decided!
No going back!!
'Jioboh, time to dance!!!
In her bird form, Anira vibrated all over. She conjured and mustered all her strength, then went into incantations.
Imenatatabikhui, ojiadan bi oj'iason n'ujiamun, nujiagbe, nejiadede, ukpelonmon bi ob'arokhua, ogbologbo, ig'eranlen, ghegbe ghe oji'oboh, imuen ghepien ghepien ghepien non... (I the Great blackbird, Queen of the coven and queen of the night, that cannot be caught, that cannot be conquered, that cannot be embraced, the beak of iron and fist of steel, killer pussycat, behold your doom, Great oracle man, I catch you cheap I catch you cheap I catch you cheap so...)
Then she swooped like lightning towards the comatose form of the Oji'oboh that lay sprawled out on the floor.
As she landed she changed into a snake, a gargantuan cobra, black and sizzling. In another breath, she transformed into a human shape, an elf lady, lithe and loathsome. A broomstick materialized in her hand. Then the broomstick transformed into a sword, gleaming in the faint light of the doused bush lamp that kept burning on the bedside stool.
She was now squatting beside Enaho's body, her eyes shining like twin live coals beaming at his exposed throat. She raised the knife above her head and plunged it down towards the exposed throat of Enaho.
It was a spirit sword, and it was directed at the soul of Enaho. It hit the flesh and broke painlessly through like a laser surgical ray, searing in search of the soul.
Some distance away where he was trapped at his observation post, Enaho had seen everything in the erie since Anira flashed into the scene.
At the point where the Queen witch raised the spirit knife and struck, he went into a critical state and his eyes were conscripted. This for him was the final moment of despair. So this was going to be his ultimate lot. How could he, the great Oji'oboh, die just like that in the hands of a wretched witch?
He did not feel any pain as the weapon pierced through his solar plexus and went straight in search of his soul.
Enaho, the great Oji'oboh, felt a surpassing gut jolt and blacked out.
In Arina's eyes, there was the darkest gleam of triumph, as she held the spirit knife down, doubled down over Enaho's body, like a macabre display of two lovers in an awkward embrace.
Dieeee!, she screeched in that soundless astral voice. Diieee!!
What!?
A VOID
The point of impact was accurate, and the direction of thrust was flawless, but the target, the soul of Enaho, was absent.
To ensure perfect execution, Arina had not aimed at the physical body, Oji'oboh was no mere mortal.
What if he regains consciousness in the nick of time? What if his odeishi blocks a physical strike? She had executed a spirit strike, and as long as the target was unconscious, certain death was the outcome. Then how come she hit a void?
Then she heard it!
Her eyes widened and glazed over. It was that sound. It was cold, crisp, clear, and real.
Concise!
Oji'oboh snorted.
At the same time she heard that unmistakable, mocking nasal sound, she realized her grave error. His core or orion was not in his body. It means that something had happened to eject his soul from his body. And he was on the road to elimin land, temporarily suspended in the region of denial, in the dicey struggle between life and death.
And it was a vulnerable time for him. The slightest physical attack would have been enough to tip him over.
Instead, she had gone spiritual.
And, ironically, she had even helped to string him back into his body.
And she had turned the table against herself.
DANGER!!
She rose in a blur of speed and swirling shadow. She materialized in the air, taking her sword, now turned back to a broomstick in her claws, she has turned into a small black bird again, atatabikhui, ready to flee.
In the process she made another blunder, she withdrew her sword which had been buried into the void where Oji'oboh's orion resides. It had given him the ghost opportunity to slip into his body, and his eyes flew open.
Baba who had been in the dark pit of the shadow of death and despair, finally broke the surface.
Next everything was happening at the same time, Arina's panic retreat, and transformation. And Baba's reawakening, to catch up with the Queen witch, as she hurtled towards the rafters, to flee.
Oji'oboh snorted again.
His left palm hit the floor and a magnetic field swept out. The atatabikhui froze in mid-flight, just millimeters away from the rafters.
In the next fraction of a second, Baba shot to his feet, then flashed into the air, and his right hand knifed out and caught Anira between the thumb and the index finger.
Fleetingly, they hung in space, defying time and gravity. In that fraction of time, Anira who had been frozen still to temporal unconsciousness, regained her senses to find herself in the claws of Oji'oboh.
What kind of rubbish was this? How come that she the huntress, had suddenly become, not just the hunted, but the captured!
It must not be, she would not be outdone that easily without a fight. All sense of panic was gone from her now. That scarred, one-eyed face, flashed into her mind's eyes once more. It had been recurring. Day after day, day after day, like the quote from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. She was the solitary inheritor of the vengeance, "Alone, alone, all, all alone," still curiously in sync with Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. Hers was the ignoble role to fulfill the curse of an ancient score. And not just a fight, it would be their final duel to the death. He may be the great witch doctor, but she was not the oji'azen for nothing.
And, yes, not just a fight. A fight to the finish. A fight she must win. And that final battle had suddenly dawned. She did not expect that today was the d day. But seeing the chain of events it all added up together. Her father's last words came to her mind again. "You must kill him before the prophecy of the fly whisk come to pass." Strangely, just yesterday everybody saw or heard about the event of the fly whisk that struck the ground standing.
The newborn was associated with the fly whisk. If allowed to grow he would be the destiny child. But the case of the baby was now reserved for the very near future. She had to surpass the father first. It would not be easy, but there was an ancient prediction by her father, that the doomsday duel to the death would be decided by a strange and unknown talisman. This was what the council of seven demons told him before giving him the double-headed serpent talisman.
The council of seven demons had been queried by her father who blamed them for failing him. They had explained to him that they were seven to the opponent's fourteen maximum demons and they were outnumbered and overpowered. In compensation, they had handed him the double-headed serpent talisman, unknown to anyone before then, and had remained a secret ever since. It was preserved as her grande finale formula, her trump card, her doomsday decider. Like all such weapons it has its rules; it must be kept away from human sweat, urine, and feces, observations she had kept strictly ever since, when she chose to hide it, spiritually, inside her tongue, where none of the three matters would ever touch it to neutralize it.
Oji'oboh neither knew about the doomsday prediction nor the secret talisman and though he was prepared for anything, he was not necessarily considering the present battle as a final duel to the death. To him, he was going to mete out to her what has become routine punishment, it would be another chastisement, and he would let her escape at the expiration of the astral rush hour.
He did not completely underrate her. He knew her strength and her ability to spring surprises. For instance, in some of their previous encounters, when she was beaten to a sorry state, she had deliberately triggered him into the involuntary teleport, and when he was a safe distance away, she would make good her escape.
So in that fleeting moment, just as Anira recovered her senses as a bird in his hand, Oji'oboh flipped in the air and landed on the floor, still holding her hostage in his grip. What he did next was supposed to mean he was not underrating her, he stamped his left foot on the floor and uttered a short incantation "ihorie dayi," he cast a pause on his power to teleport for five astral minutes, equivalent to ten minutes of normal time. She would not be able to trigger him now, and even he would lose the capability to teleport, and it was irreversible for the duration of the banned period. Ironically, it was even then he underrated her, and it was a grave mistake.
Who told him he would not need a teleport?
As what he had done dawned on her Anira released a cold snort.
Oji'oboh was stunned.
It wasn't just the snort, but that she had the nerve to make such a retort, was incredulous. How dares she, just a witch, queen level or not, to snigger in front of a powerful witch hunter?
But she had reacted with disdain and there was no mistaking the cutting-edge confidence in her voice. For the first time in about all his memory, Oji'oboh's heart gave the faintest of flutter.
In plain language, his heart skipped a bit. An ominous feeling of danger snaked into his consciousness.
He was not new to danger, but something was telling him something had gone wrong, terribly amiss.
There was a saying in the Savannah rain fores, if at daybreak a hen comes after you in pursuit to attack, retreat cautiously first because you do not know if it had developed teeth during the night.
Not good!
Not good!!
As his mind went into turbulence, Anira the atatabikhui bird in his hand, enlarged into her astral body, and stood facing him in confrontation. He was in his human form and she was in her astral body. They sized each other up, and they could see themselves, but if Omongbon or Otiti, or any other ordinary person were to be present, the only visible person would be Baba in a comic stance against an invisible adversary.
His forebodings aside, Baba calmed his heart. One thing was clear, this was the last battle. When the sun rises at dawn, one body would be taken to the evil forest, and he was, was, not so...
"We have three astral time minutes," Anira announced flatly. "When you meet my father in ejaiwa (unforbidden regions), give him my regards."
And she made the first move.
The broomstick in her hand transformed into a long chain and she swung it out deftly, dancing daintily and cooing coquettishly.
Baba closed his eyes.
The chain hit him on his chest and slung around him, pinning his alms to his sides as it entwined and immobilized him. The chain tautened as Anira increased the temple of her dance and coos. Baba remained still as the chain continued to tighten around him until it appeared as if all his bones would be crushed, and Arina, holding the other end of the chain, was now in dancing vibration on the spot, all her sinews and strength straining to break him to pieces with the as she piled up the pressure.
Baba opened his eyes and puffed out a gust of air through his pouted lips.
Wooshh!
In a flash, the chain shattered and turned to powder. For a while, the cloudy powder1 of the broken chain floated between them. Rising and falling, high and low, in a wave of smoke and fading fog.
Baba made his move.
A red scarf appeared in his hand. Seeing it Anira sucked in her breath sharply and took an involuntary step backward. It was the scarlet witch trap. A net, really, and it catches witches. A net looking, and even feeling, like the smoothest silk, delusionally, that is. In reality a magical wand of chukuchuku, thorns, and fire. Waved by the correct hand and craft, it turns a witch into a fly, sucks her into its folds, chokes, and fries her to ashes.
Check?
They both understood the way of the red scarf, also known as the flame pot. They both knew that it was their final pitch. And both knew that the great Oji'oboh had dealt his trump card. In their chess game of death, it was a check call.
And both understood.
In the fleeting time left, there was no beating about the bush. This was the end of their evil matchup, ordained by others for them without their imput. The end of their life together, the final chapter of a tragic nuptial story that was scripted and precipitated on calamitous absurdities, the creation of a victor-vanquished paradox, birthed in rivalry, churning through a chaotic course of slave wife's animus to master husband's dominion, and destined for a fatal terminus. This was the definition of their jinxed wedlock and cohabitation to this inevitable end. Nothing can change the situation now, there must be an end to crap, abi?
Yes, they both understood.
Either or both of them would die in the span of the time frame of the three astral minutes of this final conflict, and they had two astral minutes left. At sunrise, whatever was going to be the case, things will never be the same again.
It was their fate.
Baba made his second move.
Deftly he waved the wand.
Even as he began the action of raising the red scarf for the wave, Anira's eyes had widened into horrific round orbs and she made her counter move instinctively, if spontaneously. She bared her teeth and her tongue shot out as a serpentine hissing sound screeched out, as she launched the process of popping that last talisman, her own trump card.
Baba felt tremendous pressure. It was the most critical time in his entire life, and he had a prognostic premonition of disaster.
Collusion!
As Oji'oboh moved and Arina countered almost simultaneously, he had a hairline advantage, and it was devastating. A vast stream of wind tunneled from the red scarf and tore forward, forming a furious tornado, spinning and shooting straight at Anira. It caught her to the point of almost launching her secret talisman and abolishing it directly. The tornado continued its spinning motion as it landed on her. It had the same effect on her as an object caught in the eye of a tornado. She was tossed into the air and started spinning in place. Oji'oboh stood opposite her, pointing the scarf at her, and spinning. As he spun the scarf so she rotated in the eye of the storm created by the tornado.
Conquest!?
At the point of impact, Anira had almost blacked out, but one stubborn streak of her consciousness trailed and strained to rally her mind to invoke her demons.
Suddenly, dense black smoke covered her and the tornado was aborted. The room was pervaded by the strong smell of cordite. Arina dropped to her feet on the floor. Above her, the dark silhouettes of her ten demons floated in place. She had inherited the seven demons he left for her and acquired an additional three. She was well on her way to the maximum of fourteen.
Teleport...
Damn...
Anira shook her head vigorously, still reeling from the apocalyptic spin. She stared fixedly at Baba and grinned resignedly. To think you wanted to kill me!" her voice was very calm. The demons above her looked down at Baba like so many hawks at a day-old chick. They floated still, awaiting her command.
The dynamics of the battle had now changed. She had no urgency to deploy the secret talisman anymore because the demons will do the rest. At her word, he would be erased and she may need the weapon for another.
"Remember my message to the old one".
Theatrically, almost majestically, she raised her staff and brought it down with a wish command, a death wish.
Nothing happened.
Baba looked mockingly at her and smirked. "The protectors do not cross swords in the ethereal plains". He raised his head and nodded reverently at the silhouettes of fourteen maximum demons his father bequeathed to hovering above him."My dear wife can only expect our mutual protectors to watch as umpires this time and block all further intrusions." He took a battle stance and dangled the red scarf at her, waiting to see the look on her face again. "Time again to be on our own."
Anita sighed. She was going to use the secret talisman after all. And she was prepared this time. "We have one minute left," she sneered. "My father is waiting." She added and moved. Baba also moved.
They moved at the same time.
As Baba waved the scarf, a heavy gust of tornado streaked out even as a giant serpent simultaneously, Arina's mouth yanked open, her tongue lashed out and a big two-headed serpent erupted from it to appear in her place.
The serpent took an attack half standing poise and face the fat approaching tornado.
The tornado continued to rush forward.
The serpent waited.
Behind the tornado, Baba's face was a mask of horror.
What kind of talisman was that? It was strange to him. His heart sank completely as it dawned on him that he was doomed.
The tornado smashed into the serpent.
Collusion!
The impact shook the entire erie with such force that the door and window were blown open and sent flying out.
Teleport ban, what a dumb deed!?
Baba wildly weighed the option of turning to flee physically, crazy crap thought!
Desperately A pulled a silk twine. It was the beast strangle talisman.
Too late.
In a blinding motion, the serpent swooped on him and had him entwined before he could even blink. He tried to struggle but ended up tripping over and falling to the ground.
The Serpent wrapped him up on the ground, binding his legs together and his left hand to his side. Even as he managed to keep his right hand free, she had already secured him in a coil, tightening her grip every time he breathes out, making it harder for him to take the next breath in, as in the manner of snakes with captured prey for dinner.
Baba was suffocating, and the fast-ebbing seconds of the last astral minute were no advantage to him, he was blanking out faster and he knew he would not make it. He, Baba Enaho, the great Oji'oboh was about to die.
Mercilessly, Arina his wife, the vile Queen witch, strained and tightened her hold, writhing around him on the floor, like a grotesque man and deadlock.
Checkmate?
Arina's adrenalin pumped to a frenzy as she sensed victory. She tightened her stranglehold to the last limit of being at breaking point herself.
Finally, Baba's body shook violently and went limp.
A last long and laboured breath wheezed out of his nostrils and he stopped breathing.
Arina maintained her stranglehold. The old could be up to a last-ditch trick and she could not afford to be fooled.
Not this time.
The old fox was as good as dead, she conclude, but let him remain dead until the very last second of the astral time.
She had a good half minute more.
Above them, their guardian demons hovered in silence. No intervention, no intruders.
Everything was quiet now.
The seconds ticked on.
Then the shrill cry of a baby rented the silence.
The baby had woken up and had let out a sharp shrill cry.
It was an unexpected distraction to the demons, unwelcome to Arina, and a lifeline to Baba.
At that instant, Baba who had held his breath all the while, moved his only free right hand.
With a flip of his thumb and index finger the silk twine his hand flew out.
It was the beast strangle talisman.
It spun around above them and found its mind-directed targets, the necks of the two-headed snake. Before the serpent could react the twine caught her necks together in a loop.
Even the watching demons yielded a collective shocked gasp as they too were caught off guard.
The loop tightened instantly and caught short the gut-racking scream that Arina was launching to a choked-off grunt, forcing her to involuntarily, but momentarily, slacken that infernal embrace.
It was a millisecond lapse, but it gave Baba a hair-breath opportunity to steal in a little precious air and hold it in before she tautened her hold again. He in turn drew the silk twine. It bit into her flesh and shut out the air from her.
It was her turn to feel the darkness clouding in on her, to feel the vaunting invasion of death.
She was about to die!
Baba would die too!
Then Baba spoke in raspy whispers with the last breath he stole and stored.
"Aseyor"
Stalemate.
Both of them were about to die!?
How was that for comfort?
Their lives were in each other's hands.
They had practically no time left. In another five seconds, or less, both of them would be dead. What she had just analyzed from his words was that they either save each other by mutually releasing their respective holds, or they hang on to their respective advantages and die together.
But it was not that simple.
Who will retract their talisman first?
How does she know that if she retracts her attack, he would reciprocate in kind? In a matter of a few seconds in the trap of the beast strangler, she was ghosted, or even an immediate mere pull at that silk twine and it would sever her head from her body in real life. On the other hand just a few seconds more in her chokehold, he would be memory.
So who would trust the other to let go first?
Both ended up holding on to their respective amulets.
The baby's cry broke the silence again.
Outside the erie, Omogbon could no longer bear the suspense she had been enduring.
She had waited for ages for the Patriarch to complete whatever ritual he was taking the baby through. Then when she saw the entire building shaken and the window and the door sent flying, she fetched her chaplet from her waist pouch and started saying her Rosary prayer.
Then she heard the first cry of her baby and started tiptoeing towards the torn open door. On the second cry, she broke into a run and burst into the erie, her chaplet held out in front of her as if it was a protective shield and an attack spear at the same time.
She made for the bed first and snatched her baby into her alms and then turned to survey the room, ready to flee. She was now carrying the still-crying baby to her side with her left hand and the chaplet in her right hand.
When she first burst into the room she had felt an overpowering sense of raw evil and an overwhelming stench of sulphur. Then when she grabbed the baby and turned around she felt a paralysing invasion of demonic attack and cried out, lifting her chaplet to her front.
"Maria non khiale!"
("Holy Mother Mary!")
She saw nothing, but the demons broke formation and dispersed in thin air, disappearing with ghoulish howls of terror, and fading whiff of that sulphuric odor.
The effect on the man and the serpent was to break the spells of their two talismans at the last moment when they were both on the verge of giving up their ghosts.
But Omongbon only saw the body of Enaho, naked, and lying in a twisted awkward position on the floor as if he was entangled with an invisible adversary, which indeed, he was, though she could not see the witch.
Baba lay there even more confused at the turn of events, from certain death to sudden freedom. His breathing which had stopped momentarily, had resumed in fast and hard pants.
Anita too was equally confused as she suddenly found herself back in her astral body, and flung to the far end of the room.
Omongbon's sweeping eyes saw Enaho's igbu attire on the floor by the bed, close to her feet, and impulsively, sh stooped to pick it up and threw it on Enaho to cover his nakedness.
Anita came to her senses first, and fast. She saw Omogbon carrying the baby and that her habitual object in her hands. She went berserk with anger and lunged at her in a direct and blind attack.
Omogbon did not see her, but she sensed her evil invasion and held out her chaplet instinctively in defence once more.
Anita crashed headlong into the chaplet.
The result was drastic.
At the point of impact, Anira caught fire and went up in dazzling flames. Then turning around she fled from the room like a blazing meteor in a shrill chilling cry of agony.
Omogbon still did not see her, but she saw a spark of light come out of her chaplet, and then a feeling of peace.
Enaho was sitting up now and he saw everything.
It was half a minute to the astral deadline.
He knew that at dawn, one minute in real-time, there was going to be a great storm in his egodo.