The Glove Remembers.

Chapter 12: Judas.

The SCID van didn’t stop.

Okeke kept driving. 120 km/h down Kubwa Expressway. But she killed the sirens. “We’re not safe,” she said. “We’re just moving.”

_Good_, Zara said in my head. _Moving targets are harder to hit._

_You’re chatty for a dead girl_, I thought back.

_You’re alive for both of us. So talk less. Listen more._

Tunde groaned. The IV in his arm was pumping saline. And something else. Ife wouldn’t say. “Stabilizer,” was all she’d give me.

His eyes opened. Found me.

And went wide.

Because my eyes were still black. No white. Just black. Like the gloves.

“Amara—”

“No.” My voice came out layered. Mine on top. Zara’s underneath. Like a choir. “You don’t get to say my name. Not until you tell me his.”

“Whose?”

“The man on the roof. The one who smelled like you.”

Mrs. Abah stopped praying. The van went quiet except for the engine and _>> ZARA_EZE.EXE: IDLE > ZARA_EZE.EXE: MEMORY PLAYBACK > MEMORY END > ZARA_EZE.EXE: THREAT ANALYSIS > TARGET LIST: IFE_OKAFOR, BEATRICE_EZE, MRS_ABAH_

_>> PROBABILITY OF MATERNAL TERMINATION: 78%_

Mama.

In Enugu.

Alone.

“Drive,” I said to Okeke. “Enugu. Now.”

“We won’t make it,” Okeke said. “It’s 4 hours. He has men there.”

“Then call her,” I said. “Warn her.”

Ife was already dialing. Hands shaking. “Mama... Mama Beatrice... pick up...”

Voicemail.

_“You have reached Beatrice Eze. I am in school or in church. Leave a message and God bless you.”_

Beep.

Ife hung up. Tried again.

Voicemail.

_>> ZARA_EZE.EXE: SUGGESTING ALTERNATIVE > ACCESSING CONTACT: BEATRICE_EZE_

_>> INITIATING DIRECT NEURAL HACK VIA CELL TOWER TRIANGULATION_

“What are you doing?” I whispered to myself.

_Calling Mama_, Zara said. _Through you. Through me. Through the thing he can’t tap._

My nose started bleeding.

My vision split.

And in my head, I heard a phone ringing.

In Enugu.

In my mother’s house.

_Ring._

“Hello?”

Mama’s voice. Sleepy. Confused.

“Mama,” I said. But it wasn’t my voice.

It was Zara’s.

Perfect. Alive.

“Zara?” Mama gasped. “Zara, nwa m, is that you? The police said you—”

“Listen to me,” Zara said through my mouth. “You need to run. Now. Out the back. To Aunty Ngozi’s. Don’t pack. Don’t call anyone. Just run.”

“Zara, what is this? Are you—”

“PhasethreeisHer,” Zara said. Fast. All one word. “He’s coming for you, Mama. Because of me. Because of Amara. Run.”

The line went dead.

I collapsed.

_>> ZARA_EZE.EXE: POWER DRAW CRITICAL_

_>> HOST: AMARA_EZE.EXE — ENTERING HYPOGLYCEMIC SHOCK_

Ife caught me. “Her blood sugar’s crashing! She needs—”

The van’s back doors blew open.

Not Dasuki.

Mikey.

Standing there. In the dawn light. Covered in blood. Not his.

In his hand, the left glove.

Still burning.

He looked at me. Blind eyes. But he saw.

“_Nne_,” he said.

Then he looked at Tunde.

And growled.