Beasts Made of Night - Hardcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Tochi Onyebuchi holds a B.A. from Yale, an MFA in Screenwriting from Tisch, a Masters degree in Global Economic Law from L'institut d'études politiques, and a J.D. from Columbia Law School. His writing has appeared in Asimov's and Ideomancer, among other places. Tochi resides in Connecticut where he works in the tech industry and is currently writing the epic sequel to Beasts Made of Night.

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Copyright © 2017 Tochi Onyebuchi

***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof*** 

Chapter 1

I make sure to sit where they can’t see me.

From where I’m perched, tucked just out of sight on a pile of rubble, I have a pretty good view of the other sin-eaters, the aki. They’re gathered in the small clearing below, ringed by the rubble of what used to be someone’s home.

If they knew I was here, they’d probably get all self-conscious, stop playing, and start trying to talk my ear off. Sky-Fist this and Lightbringer that. Whatever lahala they’re calling me these days in the Forum. Seems like barely anyone still remembers my name is Taj.

This group of aki are young, some of them just kids. But there are a few who look close to my age, including one girl with a big, easy smile that catches my eye. They wear jewel studs in their ears, gemstones to remind them of family members or loved who they abandoned or who abandoned them when their eyes changed and it was clear that they were aki. Others wear coal where gemstones would go. Jewels for the living. Coal for the dead.

I grin as I watch that girl who smiled at me show off for her friends, doing a backflip off a piece of broken balcony. She sticks the landing, her tunic flipping up a bit to expose a patch of light-brown thigh. I catch a glimpse of a fresh black mark wrapped around her leg—a tattoo of a snarling wolf.

Flashing another smile, Wolf Girl holds up her hand to get everyone’s attention, and the aki form a circle.

They begin to clap, slowly and in unison, their bodies swaying with the rhythm. Arms wide, then clap. Arms wide, clap. Faster. Faster. Even faster.

Now the aki begin to stomp their feet in rhythm with each clap while they sing a familiar song.

One stone, two stone, three stone, four,

Sound of Arbaa aki knocking at your door.

One stone, two stone, three, four, five,

Khamsa dahia aki set your street on fire.

One stone, two stone, and one makes three,

Aki from Thalatha climbing up your trees.

One stone, one stone, one stone please,

So the pretty aki girl can then see me.

I mouth along, careful not to let out a sound. I can’t remember the last time I joined a circle of young aki like this, but I haven’t forgotten a single word.

As the last words of the song die down, one of the youngest kids enters the circle and bounces on his feet, twirls, till he’s got everyone’s attention. Then he really goes at it, bounding to the left of the circle, darting to the right. He spins. Flies through the air. And the little aki around him cheer and clap.

Another girl breaks away and dances toward him, clapping in his face. She matches him leap for leap, and now we have ourselves a fight. The two aki kick and dodge while the circle sings about the kid who steals the pearl and has to leave town, climbing over the massive Wall that surrounds our city of Kos and escaping into the forbidden forest on the other side to whoever is waiting to welcome him home.

I notice most of the aki, except for Wolf Girl, appear to have unmarked skin. But if I look closely, I can spot a small lizard tattooed along the collarbone. A griffin marking one’s shoulder blades. Black ink on red skin, brown skin. Most of them are too young to have Eaten much sin, their skin largely unblemished by the animal markings earned by a successful sin-eating. The same markings that label us as pariahs, that earn us nasty looks and shoves in the Forum. These aki are lucky. I tug my sleeves down over my own arms and legs. They’re covered with beasts.

***

I could be inside sleeping like I deserve to, preparing for my next Eating, but it’s nice out. Not so dry that the dust’ll choke you into a coughing fit in two steps. And not so humid that the air feels heavy.

I even catch myself swinging my legs to the rhythm of the song as it echoes all the way up to where I’m sitting. As I watch the aki laugh and dance, it’s easy to forget that some of them are gonna get spit on as soon as they leave our dahia, our neighbor- hood, and walk through the Forum. Some of them are gonna get kicked, maybe even beaten by the Palace guards walking up and down our streets with their cutlasses and their gloves and their complete and total lack of humor. Here, they’re happy and unbothered. Here, we are happy and unbothered.

A shadow passes over me.

I flinch, ready to strike, but it’s just Bo.

“Don’t do that, brother; I nearly dusted you,” I huff.

But I’m glad to see Bo, even though I know now it’s just a matter of time before the other aki notice us. My friend is easily four or five hands taller than most people in the city of Kos. He’s hard to miss.

I make room for him, sliding over so he can sit down, too. But Bo just stays standing, his freshly marked arms crossed over his large chest, face as blank and serene as always.

“Taj, we’ve been called to the Palace,” Bo says, then clears his throat to make sure I’m still listening instead of looking at Wolf Girl. I smirk. That means he noticed her, too.

“Jai was called to Eat a sin. He failed.”

My smile fades. “So he has Crossed.”

“Yes.” Bo’s voice is quiet but steady. “The inisisa ate him. It’s still loose. They need us to take care of it.”

I stand up and brush the dust off, ignoring the small shiver that creeps down my spine. I didn’t know Jai well, but we’d lift our chins in greeting any time we crossed paths. The aki respected him. And now he’s dead. Worse than dead. Eaten.

Already, I’m trying to size up the inisisa, the sin-beast, in my mind. How big is it? How fast?

I check to make sure my daga is snugly tucked into my armband, even though I know it’s always there. First thing I do every morning is slip my knife into my armband. I’d feel naked without it.

“Is the Mage already here?” Nobody makes it to the Palace grounds without an escort.

“Yes, he’s waiting.” Bo lays a heavy hand on my shoulder as I pass him. “Careful, Taj. Jai was good. The inisisa shouldn’t have beaten him.”

“Did that ruby-licker Mage say how big the inisisa is?” I try to shrug off Bo’s grip.

Bo shakes his head. Apparently saying no would be too much effort.

“Well, don’t worry, brother.” I pat Bo’s hand. “If that inisisa even dreams about beating me, I’ll wake it up and make it apologize.”

I lift Bo’s hand off my shoulder and continue making my way into the street, where I find a Mage in a black robe, waiting to take me to my next engagement.

As we make our way to the palace, I run my fingers through my nappy hair. It’s starting to grow out, and I like the look, like a massive, cushioned helmet, but it takes way too much effort to maintain. I have to wash it right. And sometimes, when it gets hot and humid, my hair falls all the way down over my ears so I look like a donkey. I don’t know—it doesn’t seem worth it. But when it’s good and upright and all puffed out, I love it.

***

I hate when they keep me waiting. The more time I’m left alone with my thoughts, the more the nerves start to get to me. I play with my daga, flipping it up and catching it again and again, careful to catch the handle and not the sharp tip. I try to keep from wondering what’s waiting for me...