Read an Excerpt From Dazzling

Treasure and her mother lost everything when Treasure’s father died.

We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Dazzling, a new take on Nigerian mythology by Chịkọdịlị Emelụmadụ—out from The Overlook Press on December 5.

Treasure and her mother lost everything when Treasure’s father died. Haggling for scraps in the market, Treasure meets a man who promises to change their fortunes, but his feet are hovering just a few inches above the ground. He’s a spirit, and he promises to bring Treasure’s beloved father back to life if she’ll do one terrible thing for him first.

Ozoemena has an itch in the middle of her back. It’s an itch that speaks to her patrilineal destiny, an honor never before bestowed upon a girl, to defend the land and protect its people by becoming a Leopard. Her father impressed upon her what an honor this was before he vanished, but it’s one she couldn’t want less—she has enough to worry about as she tries to fit in at a new boarding school.

But as the two girls reckon with their burgeoning wildness and the legacy of their missing fathers, Ozoemena’s fellow students start to vanish. Treasure’s obligations to the spirit escalate, and Ozoemena’s duty of protection as a Leopard grows. Soon the girls’ destinies and choices alike set them on a dangerous collision course. Ultimately, they must ask themselves: in a world that always says no to women, what must two young girls sacrifice to get what is theirs?

Treasure: Then

At night when the spirit comes, I wake up. Simple and short. Is like somebody tapped my leg. I crawl on the floor to the back door of our one-room and open it. The moon’s stomach is not yet full but is enough to see inside the night.

“What are you finding?” I ask. Fear is trying to catch me, but if me I allow it, I will be stuck inside trouble.

He is no longer pretending to be a human being. I can see the space between the ground and his shoes. He don’ have shadow. He takes his cap off to scratch. His hand looks like one giant spider like this, sitting on his head.

“What do I want?” He puts the cap back on his head. Is black like Nnamdi Azikiwe’s own, but designed with gold coils that shine. It’s the same cap he wore the last time me and him talked. That’s how I know it’s not silver like is looking now.

“I brought you a gift,” he says. “I was going to give you before, but you ran away. What was chasing you?”

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Dazzling

I want the something he’s holding. It smells like o.kpa wawa, steamed with pepper and spices. The saliva in my mouth is pouring spring water down my throat.

“Thank you. I don’ want.”

He sighs. The breeze is cold and dry from his mouth. Deep freezer air. It smells of stockfish and sawdust. Can spirits breathe? The man unties the knot of the o.kpa, holding it by the end of the bag. It dangles in the air and spins open. He caresses it.

“Warm as a mother’s breast,” he says, and takes a bite.

I don’ like how he says this. I want to spit. The whole place is smelling delicious. I can’t bear it anymore.

The spirit blows as he chews, pushing the smell towards me. He swallows. “You called me. I came. The question is, what do you want from me?”

“Me? I dinor call you.” “Yes, you did.”

“When?”

“When you were sitting on the floor cursing those boys that stole your money. You wanted them to pay, didn’t you? You’ve forgotten all the things you said?” He bites more of the okpa until what is remaining resembles a shadow smile in his hand. “It doesn’t matter. You called me and I am here, and now, we bargain.”

“Hia! Bargain, kwa?” I think for a moment. “If I really called you, then where is my money?”

His face is dark from the moon, and I can’t see his eyes, but his body becomes straighter. “You want your money back? Is that what you want?”

I don’ trust him. Yes, I want my money back, but the way he is behaving makes me suspect something. I don’ answer him. He don’ eat the remaining okpa in his hand and the smell of it is twisting up my inside.

“Before I answer, I want another okpa. A big one…” The thing is in the air between us before I’ve finished talking. Looking back into our room, the bed is dark. Mummy breathes softly on it, shallow and fast, as if she’s running in her dreams. Everything she has taught me is at the back of my mind: Don’ talk to strangers. Don’ eat food in your dreams. Don’ collect things from people’s hands.

I take the okpa. It’s hot, the waterproof bag sticks to my palm. I tear it with my teeth and the okpa sticks to the soft parts of my mouth and burns them. My tongue is on fire. Palm oil is all over my face. I suck my lips, pulling all of the sweetness into my mouth; even the bag follows.

“You want more?” the spirit asks. He comes down slowly, a leaf on the wind, until his feet almost touch the floor. His moustache moves. He is smiling.

I don’ answer him. I am thinking what I will do to pay for the okpa. It was sweet, but—

“You can’t be coming to my dreams anymore,” I say.

“You pulled me in. Such a sweet dream. Do you miss him? Your daddy?”

I don’ give him ear with this question as well. My mind is telling me that I should not have got up from where I was sleeping, but I had to. I don’ know why. Like he is pushing me button and I must be answering him.

“By the way, you haven’t thanked me for my other gift. Did you not like it?”

The carton with the bread and things and things.

I should just say, “Thank you.” Instead, I say, “Ifeanyi took it.”

The moustache falls. “And who is this Ifeanyi?”

I tell myself to shut up. “Ifeanyi is Landlady’s grandson.”

“Eh-ee. Taking something that I called your name over? Anyway, leave him to me.”

“He is mannerless,” I say.

“I can get you another box. Anything you want, I can give you. I just have one small request. Very small. It’s not a big thing at all.”

My stomach is bubbling as if I have eaten spoiled egusi soup. The okpa wants to come out, but I know that one is what Daddy calls “forgone conclusion.” I have eaten the spirit’s food and now I must kuku obey him. Sebi that’s how it works in all the stories?

“I want to live again. My first life was… taken. You will help me. You will be my wife.”

“Your wife? Who is your wife?” Fear drums in my chest. “Please, I can’t be your wife. I am a small girl.”

The spirit is silent. His body moves dancing-dancing like fire. If he was breathing before, he has stopped now. He’s waiting for me to do something that me I don’ know. A spirit wife? God forbid bad thing. I can’t be anybody’s wife. Husbands that walk-about chasing woman, that leave their wives and children to suffer. Every time you see them answering Papa-this and Papa-that, but they will stay in Omalicha’s beer parlour until morning. Talkless of longathroat men like my uncles? No way spirit husbands can be better. Only my daddy was a correct man, and he went and died.

After much, he laughs. “If you know you’re a child, are you still a child? Hmm. Okay, you don’t want to marry me? You don’t want me to look after you, to give you all the things that you lost? No problem.”

“Wait!” I know he is about to leave even before he moves. His head bends to one side. I still can’t see his eyes. “Are you going to bother me?”

“Bother you? No o. I’m going. There are many other girls, but you called me, and I answered. Now you say you don’t want me again? It’s okay. You said I should go, so I will. Consider my okpa a gift. I will bring you many more things if you let me. Shoes for your feet. Cream to keep your skin shiny. New clothes. Food. All you need to do is agree to be my wife. Simple. I can give you the world—”

Am thinking: If you can give me all these things, why do you resemble a starving lizard? Why can you not give yourself life?

“Can you bring someone back that has died?” I ask.

The spirit pauses and the way he is moving tells me that he is happy. “Your daddy? It will take a bit of work. Only mature spirits like me can come and go to the market with what resembles our bodies. I will find your daddy and teach him this, even though it is not yet his time. I will prove it to you.”

His body moves like fire again. My hands are cold, colder than how my room used to be when I had AC. They are aching me.

“Teaching this skill takes a while, but I will find him and bring message to you. Then you will marry me, and you will help me. Yes.”

Inside me I am thinking, Is that how people in your place use to marry? I want to see Daddy. I want him to come back and use his power to work miracle, beat my uncles, wake up Mummy to be happy again, everything. But fear is catching me, because the spirit can come into my life when I am sleeping and when I am awake.

“No, I don’ want,” I say.

The spirit is rubbing his face, rubbing, rubbing. He says, “Okay, what if I bring you those boys who stole your money, mm? Will you agree for me then?”

My belly starts to sweat. I am thinking what I will use that money to buy. I am thinking that I will throw the boys stone, make blood to come out of them somehow because they used kindness to deceive me. Do me, I do you.

I tell the spirit, “Bring them first and we will see,” making mouth like I am not afraid true-true when I am. It’s like when I want to relax, my mind will tell me again, “You and a spirit are gisting in the night.” My heart is knocking kpum-kpum-kpum in my neck.

I close the door. Ice blocks are under my cheek. When I turn, Mummy is sitting up on the bed, a dark patch in the grey light of the moon.

“Treasure?” She croaks like a frog. “You and who are talking there?” She don’ wait for me to answer her. “Come and lie next to me,” she says. “The cold is feeling me.”