DELETED SCENES

Chase Through the Streets

After breakfast, Dad got behind the wheel and drove them all to LAX. TJ was not looking forward to the actual trip to Ifa Academy. First, there was the flight to New York, which was five hours alone. Then there was the long trip between New York to Lagos, Nigeria which was three times the distance. And apparently, once they landed, there was a multi-hour drive from Lagos to New Ile-Ife after that. 

The one silver lining of it all was that he’d be making most of the journey with Manny.

“What are you smiling at, simp?” Tunde asked. 

“Nothing,” TJ returned as he hid his smile under a bit lip. 

As they got on the highway, TJ wondered if there was an advance placement test he could take so he could travel through portals like the adults did on their own. A glint caught TJ’s eye from outside the window. A car beside them kept perfect pace with them, like, eerily perfect pace. And the driver, who wore a cap with a familiar symbol, had a camera in his thin hands. Both his hands. 

TJ blinked twice, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. 

The car was driving itself, yet the man was not in some new-age self-driving car, he was in some clunker straight out of the eighties. Unless he was some sort of mechanic who souped-up old cars with modern technology, that was definitely not a regular ol’ person snooping. 

“Uh, Mom…” TJ trailed off.

Mom turned with a wide smile. “Yes, baby? Did you forget something at home? We can still go back real quick.”

“No. I think… I think there’s a diviner following us.” TJ thumbed out his window. 

Mom whipped her head in the direction of TJ’s point. “What the—who is that?” 

The man in the other car still clicked  away at his camera’s shutter with no shame. Mom started to roll the window down but it jammed a quarter way down.

“Sorry, Yejide,” Dad said, “I still need to fix that.”

Mom waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, no matter. Epo pupa ìbílẹ̀ mo ké pè ọ́ máa bọ̀ wá sọ́dọ̀ mi.” A slimy substance coated the window magically and it slid straight down, letting in a rush of air. 

“Remind me why you asked me to fix it in the first place again?” Dad smiled with a roll of his eyes in the rear-view mirror.

Ignoring him, Mom called out over the roar of the wind “Who are you? What do you want? What if a clouded sees you!? You need to have your hands on the wheel, idiot.” Whenever Mom said “idiot” with that distinct Naija accent, it always sent chills down TJ’s spine. 

The man’s eyes shot wide and he put a hand to his steering wheel. Now that TJ got a better look at his hat and the design on it, he recognized it as Eshu’s symbol, the same one that had been tattooed to TJ’s finger.  

They were on a wide street, so they had a lot of room, but with Los Angeles traffic, that could change at any moment. Even if they were in bumper-to-bumper jam, that might not have deterred this reporter dude. 

“The Eshu Messenger Press just has a few questions for the boy!” the man shouted back.  

“Then send us a bloody e-mail! Don’t go tailing us through the streets!”

“I’m in my rights, Mrs. Young. Public spaces, public pictures.”

“Iranu! You also need to abide by clouded laws. And I bet that car isn’t registered, is it?”  

For the first time, the man lowered his camera, his expression caving with embarrassment. 

“Whatchoo ’bout to do?” Dad asked as Mom spun her finger and TJ could see the Ashe of wind magic wrapped its way around the steering wheel. 

“I’m gonna show you how to lose a tail.”

“Yes!” Tunde hopped in his seat next to TJ. “Let’s go, Mom! Am I allowed to help, too? I can bust that dude’s wheels! Or maybe I’ll ice his breaks!”

“No, you sit back and watch your mother work.”

Even if Tunde wanted to help he wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Using wind magic, Mom thrusted the car forward faster on the open road, which forced TJ, Tunde, and Dad back in their seats like they were on a roller coaster. 

Tunde put his hands in the air. “Yes! This is so hype! Yeet his car, Mom. Yeet ’em Yeet ’em!” 

TJ could barely move his chin so he could see the car next to him matching their speed. But then, suddenly, it skidded along the road. Were it not for TJ’s ability to see Ashe, he wouldn’t have noticed that the road under the reporter’s car had turned to ice. The reporter certainly didn’t see it coming, as he wrestled with his steering wheel to keep it straight. After a moment of struggle, the man pulled out a magic staff in his car and vanished the ice away. 

Mom started to pull away, just as more traffic showed up ahead of them. The trick on the reporter would’ve worked if it wasn’t for the—

“Red light! Red light!” Dad shouted in terror.

Mom shouted back, “I can beat it!”

“There’s a camera! We can’t afford the ticket.”

“Ugh!” Mom groaned and she slammed on the brakes. Everyone got thrown forward. Invisible airbags—well, literal airbags in this case—saved everyone from severe whiplash. Mom was known for her water magic, but she was pretty killer with wind, too. 

Very slowly, the reporter pulled up next to them. “That was a close call there, Mrs. Young. What was that you were saying about the clouded seeing us? Running me off the road wouldn’t help your case. Pretty dangerous, wouldn’t you say?” 

The reporter didn’t actually sound all that bothered and TJ took that to mean he would’ve been safe no matter what. Through the side mirror, TJ could see Mom’s nose flaring as they waited for the light to turn green. 

“TJ Young,” the reporter said, his camera back in his hands. “What do you know about the ‘movie production’ in New York last week?”

The light turned green. 

Even if TJ wanted to answer, he couldn’t. This time TJ was jolted hard to the side instead of backward. Mom had forced the car down an alley. But it didn’t work. The reporter was still right behind them. 

“Honey, why you got us going down this alley?” Dad asked, clutching his seatbelt.

“So no one will see… this.” Mom made a fist and then spread her fingers wide.

A loud pop sounded behind them and the reporter’s car came to a very screechy halt. TJ and Tunde both turned to see that ice spikes lodged themselves into the man’s tires. 

“That’s how you lose a tail, honey.” Mom gave Dad control of the car again, lifting the wind magic she had set around the steering wheel. 

Dad gawked over his shoulder. “There ain’t much traffic ’round here, but damn, Yejide. Someone’s going to notice all that ice.” 

“It’ll melt by the time anyone comes looking.” Mom smiled and blew some frost from her fingertips, clearly proud of her work. She made it look simple but the precision of the magic she had just used was master tier. From the little reading TJ did, he knew that ice magic was hard enough on its own, let alone using it on a moving target like that.

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Tunde clapped with each utterance. “We gotta call you the ice queen!”

Tunde was seemingly left with an adrenaline rush, but TJ was more on his father’s wavelength. Even after fighting against Orishas, Mom’s magical rage hit a bit different, and it left TJ’s stomach way back at that red light.

Party, but not a Birthday Party

TJ said his goodbyes and linked up with Ayo, who was hanging out in New Ile-Ife proper. They decided to head over to a cafe boutique that sold a zobo hibiscus he really enjoyed. As he sipped at his drink, replenishing some energy lost from the festival, two girls spoke loudly to each other about “the party next week.” TJ had sat at the counter of the cozy cafe, but couldn’t quite see where the voices were coming from. He only saw the tops of heads over a rack of clothing sold near the entrance: one dark and braided, the other deep red and braided. 

“Which one do you think Umar would like best?” the one with the red hair said. She sounded Scottish. 

“Unless you’re putting absolutely no effort, only nineteen percent of teen boys care what teen girls wear,” the second voice, Nigerian, sounded almost bored, droning.

“How do you know a fact like that?”

“Internet.”

“Sorry, better question. Why do you know a fact like that?” Finally, the red-headed girl revealed herself. She was one of the exchange students from Ifa Academy, same year as TJ. Her name was Fiona if TJ recalled correctly. She was nearly as tall as him, thin too, with freckles and rosy cheeks. [In her hand/on her shoulder was a mystical creature that has yet to be determined]. 

“No pets in my boutique!” the shopkeeper shouted from behind his counter.

Fiona apologized and stepped back outside to the racks of clothing there with her friend. “He’s not a pet, he’s a friend,” she murmured to her friend. “Anyway, you want me to help you pick something for Ayo’s party?”

“I’m not going,” the dark-haired girl said. “It’s way out in Lagos and it’s just so he can impress the SS crowd.”

It was supposed to be for my birthday, TJ thought, though he knew Ayo had forgotten his birthday and had only been saving face that the party was not intended for a celebration of TJ’s birth. 

TJ tapped Ayo on the shoulder. “For my birthday you were saying?”

“It was! I swear! That girl doesn’t know what she’s talking—” Ayo lifted his head past TJ to see the girl but then shot straight back down. “Oh, crap. Don’t look over there, but the girl next to Fiona with the braids… that’s Titi.”

TJ couldn’t say he knew a Titi, though the name sounded familiar. And though Ayo told him not to look, he did anyway. There was something oddly familiar about her fact, he just couldn’t place it, so he asked, “Who’s Titi?”

“Emeka’s twin,” Ayo explained. “My ex… well, not ex… but the girl I used to go around with. I told you, remember?’

“Oh! Titilayo!” TJ said loudly, intentionally. 

Ayo sunk his head farther into the counter. “Screw you, TJ. Shut up!”

The damage was done though. Fiona peered up from the rack of clothes and perked up. She whispered something to Titilayo, who looked up and straight at Ayo. Her mouth’s usual neutral line curled up slightly in vague interest.

Yoruba Compounds

Children’s laughter peppered the air. TJ shifted his gaze from the little community of those aziza creatures to a group of kids playing a game of chase. Unlike Lagos, where most wore modern shorts and t-shirts, these kids wore dashikis, head scarfs, and fila caps. The bus passed multiple little homesteads with more children at play and parents overwatching them. 

“Folks in New Ile-Ife live a bit more traditionally,” Ayo explained. “These shelters are all grouped for extended families. Like, extended extended families. They’re called agbo-ile—or ru, lineage compounds.” Ayo pointed to a new collection of shelters bordered by one uniform mud wall. Each of them were decorated in swirling symbols and vivid colors TJ assumed were associated with each family. “That’s the Abimbola homestead right there. That’s your peoples, ain’t it?”

“On my mom’s side, yeah,” TJ answered, staring at a few men who windstepped to the thatch roofs where they repaired holes and gaps. “My grandparents live there. When I visited, we only came to Lagos and I was real young so I don’t remember that much. Just that it was hot.”

Orisha in the Mirror

TJ sighed. “Okay, that’s fair but a little subtle, don’t you think? Why didn’t you pull the mirror trick when I was in my bathroom at home? I spoke to you then at least three times a day.”

Had to learn this method from an old friend... 

...who was a little tight-lipped with their secrets. 

Ashe flows differently these days... 

...and I was not aware of this unorthodox approach. 

But this method is quite fickle. 

We’ve only got a few minutes at most.

It was true they likely only had a few minutes to speak. Already Eshu was looking a bit more faded than he had before. Good thing Eshu wrote out his messages quickly, though. He wiped them away and redrew them like a master of that old etch-a-sketch toy. And he had to write backward on top of it.

Must’ve been nice being a powerful Orisha.  

So, what’s going on? 

This is about the big day in February with Olokun. 

Yes?

TJ leaned forward, that weight of reality implanting his hands to the sink. “I saw Eko Atlantic with my own eyes. There’s no way all those skyscrapers are coming down by February. And there are so many people there. How can I keep them safe?”

You are thinking too much of the big plan, the end goal. 

Let’s break down the problem in pieces, yes? 

Before you get yourself all worried about those buildings... 

… You first have to make good on your first promise. 

“You mean regaining Olokun’s praise? I hadn’t thought of that yet. But that should be easy, right?”

Not as easy as you think. 

How long did it take for us to communicate? 

It took all those students out there... 

… to give us enough Ashe to do what we’re doing now.

“Ugh… this is never going to work, then!” TJ slammed his hands on the sink. This was a lot of stress to manage and it didn’t help that the restroom had essentially turned into a sauna with all the steam. “I should have just let those merpeople stick me with their tridents.”

Come now, TJ. 

You can make it work. 

You are going to New Ile-Ife, aren’t you? 

We are on blessed grounds. 

The little prayer with those students... 

… isn’t the only thing empowering us.

Eshu was right. The moment the buses passed over that barrier, TJ felt more empowered. If it took the whole study body to earn him a few minutes with Eshu, six months of doing the same for Olokun could generate a worthy amount of Ashe, right?

“Okay, fine,” TJ said. “I’ll put the word out, host a few festivals and whatnot. Oh! Have you seen Oya around? I don’t know if you know, but she showed herself to Manny. Said something about us going to the Sky Realm and speaking to Shango.”

Oh, I’m sure she’s somewhere up in the clouds. 

TJ couldn’t be sure in the fog but it seemed as though Eshu was stroking the crystal in his staff. 

But she’s busy during September. 

Usually she’s stirring up those hurricanes... 

… off the Atlantic coast this time of year.

That was true. TJ remembered how on clouded people’s news they always talked about east coast cities having to board up their storefronts to protect themselves against horrible winds and cyclones.  

A pounding came at the rickety bathroom door, followed by a thick Nigerian Pidgin, “I wan shit. Guy, why you dey wasted time.” The cracks in the bathroom were just large enough where TJ could see a brown eye peeking through.

“Yo, step off and give me a minute,” TJ returned. “I been holdin’ it a while.”

Eshu started to fade even more in the mirror, winking out like a dying light.

“Oh crud, we don’t have much time left, do we?” TJ lowered his voice. “One more thing before I lose you. This reporter dude stopped us at the airport. He said I shouldn’t go to Ifa Academy, that the Keepers want me at that place. Do you know anything about that?”

One thing at a time. 

Don’t go worrying yourself over... 

… the mortal weirdness you have. 

Tabloids… I get it. 

Gossip. 

Intrigue. 

Yadda yadda. 

But such a waste of time. 

I wouldn’t worry too much about all that.

TJ took in a deep sigh. Eshu didn’t get it. TJ wasn’t talking about paparazzi rumors. This was for real. 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” 

“Guy, why you dey talk to yourself?” the boy outside asked.

TJ clenched his fist. He forgot to keep his voice down. “I’m almost done. I… uh… need to psych myself up sometimes.”

“What’s a ‘psych,” the boy asked in Nigerian-accented English this time. 

“Uh, nevermind. I’m almost done.” TJ turned back to Eshu. The staff in the Orisha’s hand shook like it was trying to get away from him. “Olosa’s gonna get big mad with you when she gets out of that thing, huh?”

Olosa?

“She’s still in the staff, right?”

Oh, right! 

Yes, not looking forward to that meeting.

“Well, at least we have the start of a plan. I’ll start gathering support in New Ile-Ife.” TJ leaned in closer to the staff. “We’ll get you out soon Olosa. Sorry we trapped you in there.” 

Eshu saluted TJ with his staff and disappeared. When TJ finally cut off the faucet and made his way out, the boy who had been waiting for him shoved him in the shoulder. “Took you long enough, foreigner.” 

“Sorry, man. I left it nice and warm for you though.” TJ gave him a coy smile. It was true. TJ was sweating bullets. What would the boy think, that TJ had bladder issues that required an extra effort that resulted in pit stains and a damp forehead? Seemingly, the boy didn’t care as he gave TJ a grimace. When he brushed past TJ he had a slight limp. TJ thought he might’ve hurt himself but he noticed he was wearing ankle weights. Before TJ could ask what they were for the boy slammed the door in his face. The kid probably cared more about draining the snake than why TJ looked like he ran two marathons. Soon after, a long stream of you-know-what followed by a satisfied groan came from within. 

“Yo, Tee Jaaay!” Manny called from behind. TJ turned to see her near one of the buses, waving him over. She stood next to Ayo who also gestured for TJ to come. Many of the students were huddled around the line of thick brush, backdropped by the lowering sun. The late afternoon chill was a welcome one after being in that sauna of a restroom. 

Jogging over, TJ made his way through students catching up and chaperones making sure no one wandered off. When he got close to his friends and brought them in in a huddle, his voice was giddy. “Eshu showed himself to me in the bathroom.”

“Ah, gross!” Ayo scowled.

Manny smacked him across the shoulder. “Not like that, idiot.”

“I was joking, I was joking!” 

TJ rolled his eyes, ignoring Ayo. “So… no need for the full moon coming up. I asked Eshu about Oya. She’s busy with her storms in the Atlantic. But he’ll get in touch with her. He told me to focus on building hype for Olokun in New Ile-Ife.”

“So how are we going to bring in the good word about Olokun then?” Ayo asked, leaning casually on the bus they stood near.

TJ put a hand to Ayo’s shoulder. “That’s where you come in, friend. We’ll need to campaign like those politicians do. But we’ll need money. Fliers. Events. Water bowl calls. Maybe get an article in Divination Today or Eshu Messenger Press. They’re dying for an interview with me anyway.”

“Financer, I can do that. No wahala.”

TJ put his other hand on Manny’s shoulder. “And you’re our best talker. We’ll need you to get buzz going about Olokun.”

“Can do. And don’t forget we need to tell Elder Adeyemi about all this. Bet she can help.”

“That’s the first thing I plan to do once we get into Ifa.”

“All right, students! All students!” one of the chaperones called out. “Back to your assigned buses. Next stop: New Ile-Ife and Ifa Academy.”

Ayo pushed himself off the bus he was leaned on, smiling. “Man. I love it when we have an actual plan.”

The Magic Castle

The next morning—which had only really been a few hours after Mom got off the water bowl—a water portal was waiting for TJ in the living room. The blinds had all been shut closed to conceal the magic, so TJ could barely make out the rolling, floating waves that flecked off mist against his cheeks. Mom stood right next to it, dressed in a formal, elegant dress, one that made her look like it was date night with Dad. TJ was dressed in a suit and tie and, as Tunde had put it, looked like a Black 007. 

“You do know there technically was a Black 007 a few years back,” TJ had told his brother.

“Yeah… but she was a girl, so it doesn’t count.” 

He and Mom were dressed that way because they were headed to the Magic Castle, which had a strict dress code for formal wear. They were headed there to talk to some of the heads at the UCMP Los Angeles branch. A small committee had apparently been assembled to speak with TJ about the Olokun threat.

As TJ stared through the water portal Mom had made, stared at the other side with the carpeted floor and maghoney wood paneling everywhere like an old west saloon, he tried his best to settle his beating heart. He was going to have to answer a lot of questions from people who called the shots around the global magical community. He had been freaking out the past two weeks and really needed the help but he wasn’t so sure he could stand up at a long desk meant for people far more qualified than he was.

“Son?” Mom asked, frowning. “Are you okay? The officials are waiting for us.”

TJ fixed his face, adjusted his tie, and took a deep breath. “Yes, everything is fine.” Everything wasn’t fine, but he didn’t need to have another breakdown in front of Mom again. She didn’t need that. Before thoughts of doubt could enter TJ’s thoughts though, he stepped through the mist and into a room filled with dark red woods and walls littered with old paintings and photographs of famous magicians. 

The Magic Castle had always been an exclusive club run by the academy of magical arts. Funny thing about that was it actually was run by actual magicians. Well, ordinary magicians, that is. The front was that the “magicians” who did their shows were just regular clouded people, and the real magic happened below the castle’s foundation. Far below. 

Built in the sixties, The Magic Castle served as the home of the Los Angeles branch under the US arm of the UCMP. TJ had only been to The Magic Castle once when Mom registered the family because they opted out of living in the designated hub meant for magic folk in Los Angeles. All he could remember then was that he was forced into a suit, just like he was then.

An Explosive Meeting

“Why is the child still among us?” Chief Bolaji questioned. “He has given us his report and we have seen his power. He impedes vital groundwork. Same with Adeyemi. She should be back in her cell.”

“Let’s at least hear the boy out,” said the blond conservator, Conservator Burch, the only one that was friendly to TJ during that Ice Realm debacle. “What would you have us do, young man?”

At the time, TJ was grateful for Conservator Burch giving him a platform, but as he stumbled through half-baked solutions ranging from portal transfers for thousands of people, which was apparently impossible to achieve, to illusions that could fake Eko Atlantic’s destruction, which Oya noted would be immediately sussed out by Eshu, TJ wondered if he was actually set up to look like a dummy. When he saw Conservator Burch’s face redden with each of his seemingly juvenile fixes, he knew it wasn’t a setupset up at all, and the Conservator was likely suffering from a compounded mixture of first-hand and second-hand embarassment. 

With a cheeky grin under his large beard, Burch’s colleague, Armstrong, said, “Leave this to the adults, little lad.” 

“Okay, okay, I’m not great at coming up with plans in a meeting full of people, but I’m pretty good at working on the fly.”

The Brailizan representative scoffed. “You’re not honestly suggesting we work from no plan at all, are you?”

TJ’s face went hot. It would’ve been better if he kept his mouth shut. 

Conservator Bennet flicked a long finger through her black hair. “Remind us, Mr. Young. It was one of these examples of ‘working on the fly’ that led to your friend’s demise, was it not?”

A dragon roared within TJ’s belly. How could that woman say something like that with such cold malice? TJ was embarrassing himself all by himself. Did she really need to add salt to theth wound? Before TJ could make an outburst that would’ve landed him in a cell right next to Adeyemi, it was Mom would stood to her feet.

“How dare you!” Her voice was a storm. Water wrapped around both her raised arms and edged to a sharp point. 

Mr. Oyelowo was up on his feet, too. His face purple, his left hand encased in fire, the right snaked in lightning as he bellowed, “I already told you, woman. Don’t you dare curse my son’s name. He is alive!”

As though they were in each other’s minds in complete sync, Mom and Mr. Oyelowo, despite not wielding staffs, flung out a trio of strong elemental magic, water, fire, and lightning in tandem. Each of their lines of magic waswere true, even Mr. Oyelowo’s forking lightning. And each of their lines waswere targeted straight for Conservator Bennet’s chest. 

Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, the room was filled with the world’s best magicians with the best twitch reflexes across the seven seas. 

Not to mention the Orisha of Storms who stood among them. 

Though Conservator Bennet was far outside her element and not even close to generating protection around herself, at least a dozen others came to shield her with a combination of elemental, arcane, holy, and shadow magics. 

The air exploded. The round table cracked. The chimes shattered. And TJ’s eardrums rung deep and hollow. 

When the dust settled, a majority of the committee members were on the ground, mostly the aides. The most battle- hardened diviners and mages still stood their ground, however. TJ’s eyes took time to adjust to what looked like a miniature sun that hung above the the table for a moment before disappearing in a cloud of mist.

Oya snapped a finger and the remaining fallout of the magical explosion evaporated. “No wonder your world is in such a sorry state, mortals.” 

The Head King, who had been one of the individuals who fell out of his seat, unceremoniously lifted a shaking finger in TJ’s direction. “Guards, escort Mr. Young and Mrs. Afolabi’s retinue away from these premises. Now!”

Cardinal Directions

“Just trust me!” TJ said, just a hundred yards from the lightning fortress, air-stepping atop the sands. He sunk deep into his mind and thought-spoke. Elder Adeyemi, it’s TJ. Let us in the back of the lightning shield. That wave is gonna drown us.

The tidal wave loomed high above as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. It was like this latest wave had extinguished all light from the beach.

Tomori Jomiloju? TJ heard Elder Adeyemi in his head. Where are you coming from?

TJ didn’t quite understand the question. Um, from the left side.

Boy, you know that won’t do. North, west, or east?

TJ was terrible with those kinds of directions, even when Dad was in the military and quizzed him on cardinal direction. But he always remembered that back home, the beach was west, where the sun set.

That’s right! The sun! It just set! 

That wave is coming, Tomori. I need an answer.

“East! East!” TJ shouted out loud.

“What?” Manny questioned as she hustled along. “Why are you saying east?”

“Oh, crap!” TJ cursed himself, then shouted in his mind. Elder, we’re coming from the east! Open up on the east!

The wave was coming down; the lightning cage was fast approaching. It was drown or be fried. TJ couldn’t tell which would be worse.

“We’re gonna die!” Umar shouted. “We’re gonna die!”

TJ bit back. “No we’re not! Everyone keep air-stepping! Keep air-stepping!”