Official Cover Reveal for Mewranters – Attack of the Sea Monster by Kachi Ugo Coming November 6th!

Here it is guys! The official cover for my upcoming YA Contemporary Fantasy from Morgan James Publishing!

Mewranters: Attack of the Sea Monster uniquely blends adventure with an engaging fast-paced writing style to present readers with an action-packed story of wits, wisdom, and sheer force of will.

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If there are no sea monsters ravaging the seven seas, or three-headed hydras prowling our streets, it’s not because they don’t exist; it’s because we exist.
We are the last line of defense against nature’s indiscretions.
We are nature’s police.

When Perry Johnson hits twelve, he finds out he’s a Mew—an almost extinct species of people who possess the ability to change shape into three different forms: an aerial form, a terrestrial form, and an aquatic form.

On the day of his initiation, he shifts into a huge Golden Eagle. But this is a bad thing since no eagle Mew makes it past the age of twelve. To complicate his life, his shifting into an eagle Mew has reawakened the sea monster. A tentative partnership is formed between the different clans. But when Perry Johnson realizes that this partnership could mean the death of his parents, he has a decision to make.

With every Mew in the country out to kill him, and the sea monster calling him out to the sea, Perry must quickly learn why every Mew is threatened by the existence of an eagle Mew if he is to stand a chance at saving his parents and killing the monster. If he fails, it may very well be the end of his family…and the rest of the world.

Mewranters_Attack of the Sea Monster



Mewranters: Attack of the Sea Monster by Kachi Ugo

Public release date: February 12th 2019

eBook release date: November 6th 2018

Genres: Young Adult, Middle Grade, Fantasy

Publisher: Morgan James Fiction







Did you like the cover? Let me know in the comment section below. Cheers!




Introducing My Publisher: Morgan James Publishing (Take 2)

Hi guys!

Last week I did a post introducing my publisher, Morgan James Publishing, and saying a few things about them. I called it ‘Take 1’. This week, I’m doing another post about my publisher that I’m calling ‘Take 2’. It’s the official (and probably final) take, haha! Here goes:

***Official Take***

Morgan James Publishing was founded in 2003 by David L. Hancock, a mortgage banker at the time, who had written a book and been less than thrilled with the conventional book publishing process—yet pleasantly surprised by the immense power of publishing a book.

Created by an Entrepreneurial Author for Entrepreneurial Authors, Morgan James became the first hybrid publisher to blend the strength of traditional publishing with the flexibility of self-publishing.

“Morgan James makes an extraordinary effort to help its authors to grow their own business”
– Publisher’s Weekly’s Lynn Andriani and Jim Milliot.

David, with his bride, Susan, named the new company after their two children, daughter Morgan Renee and son Ethan James.

In just over fifteen short years, Morgan James Publishing has grown from publishing 6 books per year to publishing an average of 150 front list titles each year, with a backlist of over 2,000 titles.

Morgan James focuses on four book categories: Nonfiction, Fiction, Faith, and Kids.

Our vision is to publish titles that educate, encourage, inspire and entertain with current, consistent, relevant, titles available everywhere books are sold.

We even have something exciting we are working on called ‘Morgan James Complete’. Unlimited access to all of our books on any device. A subscription plan for only $10/mo. that includes our front list titles, many up to 3 months ahead of bookstores. It also includes our bestselling backlist titles. Let’s Read!

Morgan James Publishing is regularly ranked by Publisher’s Weekly as one of the fastest growing publishers in the nation. Morgan James ranked #44 on Fast Company’s Fast 50 for its significant accomplishments and impact on the industry over the last ten years.

For more information about my publisher, go here.


That’s it guys. Thank you for reading! I’m so excited to be working with the team at Morgan James Publishing. I can’t wait for the book to be finished and finally be in your hands. I’ll be sharing more details about the book in subsequent posts. If there’s anything specific you want to know, drop me a line in the comment section below. If not, still drop me a line even if it’s to say hello. I’d love to hear from you.


Hello World!

Hi everyone and happy easter!

I’m back! Yes, I’m back! For good this time, because this is home…


I have a lot to share with you that I’m totally bristling with excitement right now as I type out this post. I’ve been working behind the scene on a lot of projects, some of which are mine, some of which aren’t (ghostwriting and stuff).

However, I’m making a commitment to start blogging actively again. So you’re going to be  getting a lot of my posts weekly going forward. I admit there’s another reason for this besides the fact that I want to reconnect with you and that is I’m going to need your help in the coming weeks and months. Here’s why.

I landed a publishing deal a couple of months ago. YAY!!


It’s for a YA Fantasy Adventure. I’ll be telling you all about this publishing deal in the following posts. But it’s huge, it’s exciting, and I’m so glad to be taking this next big step as an author.  I’m now going to be traditionally published, which means aside from being on all online retail store, you can expect to see my books in the bookstores!


I may be revisiting some of my self-published works now and then, while I work with my publisher on getting this new book ready for prime time.

I’m also working on another exciting new story, which is definitely getting the whole ‘traditional publisher’ treatment, haha! I’m totally stoked about this new book! It’s huge folks, I tell you. I’m going to be doing all sorts of reveals about this new story I’m working on with time.

See why I’ll need your help? To get the word out.

There’s a lot of fun happening here. A lot of great stories and wonderful experiences in these books. I’m sharing them with you, hoping that you would share them with others. Share the posts. Tell someone about these books. Encourage them to like and follow my blog.

I’m also active on social media: Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. The more the merrier, and we like it merrier, don’t we? :).

Well, there you have it! These are just a few of the things that have been happening with me. I’m glad I have you all caught up with me. I would love to know what’s been happening with you, your dreams and all. Let me know in the comment section below!

The Blood Moons Series: Wrath of Elijah Coming This January 24!


…after four blood moons, bad things will happen.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00007]

Though the patriarchs of faith are dead, they live on through their descendants. Their traits, strengths, and even weaknesses—all transferred from up the generational line down to the twenty first century. But as these patriarchs live on through their offspring, so do their foes. The same battles are being fought. Only, the stakes are higher now than they were then.

Johnny Akinwale is your average 12 year old boy living with his parents in the slums of Ajegunle. In the day he goes to school; in the night he survives on the streets by wits and sheer force of will. At birth, he was diagnosed with a rare disease which left him perpetually feverish. He was consigned to living a marginalized life and one of great distress and sorrow. However, what the doctors did not know was that the root of Johnny’s fevers was not in science but in an ancient power he possessed as a result of who he was—one same power which runs in his bloodline.

Johnny Akinwale is a descendant of the fiery prophet, Elijah.

Johnny neither knows of this power nor of the fact that it has pitted him against evil forces that are beyond the control of a 12 year old. Nevertheless, this becomes clear to him as he encounters Sagnarok. A lieutenant in the armies of Hell, Sagnarok has been sent to the ancient city of Lagos to trigger the blood moons. Johnny must heed the call to greatness and stop Sagnarok against all odds.

Johnny does not know what the blood moons will cause. Only that after four blood moons, bad things will happen.

Coming Soon!

Subscribe to my mailing list to never miss an update concerning this book or any other book! Subscribe HERE.

Up next: Content Reveals! Stay Tuned.

Don’t forget to like and share.

All Titles Free For Four Days!

Hello! I’m participating in the 2015 Smashwords Summer/Winter Sale promotion, which will last till the end of this month. And so for four days, my books are free at Smashwords. Use the code SW100 at checkout for any of the titles. I appreciate your honest reviews and ratings on Goodreads or any online retailer. Here are the links:

Curse of the Sword

To Hunt A Level Four


Kindly follow my blog to keep updated on sequels to your favorite title. Happy Reading!

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Witch Hunters: To Hunt A Level Four – COMPLETE STORY!

…suffer not a witch to live


The witch hunters have existed for as long as witches and witchcraft have existed—since the first man, Adam. Now Femi Johnson is part of this ancient sect whose sole purpose is to fulfill these ancient words: suffer not a witch to live. But Femi Johnson is a junior witch hunter, and he wants to be more. However, when he discovers a bodacious, evil plot by an extremely powerful coven of witches, he realizes that being more is not always good.

Available at Amazon, iBooks, Scribd, and Smashwords.

The wait is over! You’ve read a few scenes, now here’s the whole story!


To Hunt A Level Four – Part 9

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To Hunt A Level Four – Part 9

As the last words left her mouth, so did she live the world of the conscious: with the soft exhalation of breath.

Femi laid her head to rest on the floor and sprung from his feet. He jumped over the chasm and made his way carefully to the parlor. Save for the deep trench in the floor, which revealed dark earth, and the crack in the wall, which revealed the street, his sitting room seemed untouched by Destruction’s presence. Femi located the keys to his 2009 Toyota Land Rover. He ran out the house, down the side of the building to where his car was parked, along the length of the building. From this side of the house, it didn’t look like anything had happened to the building. The vanilla paint hadn’t even cracked.

Femi entered the black car, powered it up, and drove it to the front of the house. He ran back into the white room, where he hoisted Scarlett’s form onto his shoulder and carried her into the car. When she was lying safely in the back of his car, he went back into his house to see what he could salvage from the mess.

Rubble littered the floor. Femi retrieved a black backpack from his room, which seemed to be intact, and packed a lot of money from his safe. He also packed two changes of clothes, his cell phone, a tooth brush, and his 9mm shot gun. His progress back to his car was slow as he took time to espy properly, the extent of damage Destruction had caused to the building.

It was extensive. Through the crack, he could see all the way across to the very end of the building, where a smaller bungalow was built.

Back outside, people had begun to notice the structural changes made to the building. Femi got into his car and drove out the compound. As he navigated the highway, he couldn’t help but feel that he was being followed. Two hours after Scarlett had given him the address, he got to Lagos Island, where the address Scarlett had given him was located. He met another traffic gridlock which he had to grind through before he exited the highway into a residential neighborhood.

It was a church.

It was a structure that spoke volumes. It spoke of a time lost, when it had hosted hundreds, who would come to worship God. It spoke of a time when children danced around its now desolate compound. It spoke of a time when the leaves where green and the windows gleamed in the rising sun. Now, it was a shadow of the past. A mere ghost no one sees or recognizes.

The church’s white walls had undergone a most horrid metamorphosis to the incredibly repulsive black and grey it now was. The structure seemed to be composed solely of ply wood that had rotted to the very core, hence, threatening a collapse. The yard around it had four spiny trees whose branches resembled the tentacle of a giant malevolent creature, whose purpose was to prey on the dying and the old. On this yard, black, crispy-looking leaves carpeted the floor so that it made the church look like a celestial dark house.

Femi would have drove on and forgotten the abandoned church had he not noticed Simon and two other strange men walking up the small path towards the old front door. They seemed to be doing so in a manner suggestive of secrecy. Their furtive eyes swept the surrounding houses and the street. Simon’s eyes fell on Femi’s passing vehicle, but since the vehicle was passing and its occupants prevented from view by the darkened windows, it didn’t hold his gaze for too long.

Femi made a circuit round the church and came to its door once more. By this time, the three men were gone. He pulled into the driveway and parked beside the church. Gently pulling Scarlett’s unconscious body from the car and placing it on his shoulders, he carried her to the front door and pushed it open. The moment the doors swung open, five bright blades were thrust to his face.


The blades held, a fraction of a second from piercing his throat. Femi let out the air that had snagged somewhere along his respiratory tract. They looked young, and they all wore black robes, meaning they were senior hunters. Two were Caucasian males while the remaining three were black; though, Femi couldn’t tell where they were from. They looked like foreigners.

“He’s one of us.” Femi immediately recognized Simon’s voice, even before he saw him walk down the aisle to the door. The hunters scattered and disappeared back into the shadows.

Simon heaved a sigh and shot him a sharp gaze. Then he looked to the figure he carried and his look of irritation became overshadowed by fear.

“Scarlett,” he whispered and rushed to the door, where he checked her pulse for a moment. While he still ascertained her state of health, he said, “What happened? I told you to stay out of trouble.”

“She found me,” Femi replied. “We got attacked by Destruction.”

As if he had been hit by a ball, Simon jolted backwards a few feet. He glared at Simon for a full minute, then said, “Follow me. She’s barely alive.”

Femi hoisted her onto his shoulders properly and started down the aisle after Simon. The church auditorium was quite narrow. It had only one central aisle and four columns of pews. Much of the sides of the hall was hidden in the dark, which was where the hunters probably inhabited so as to observe what went on outside the building. Down the aisle to the podium and beyond, they came to a non-descript and almost imperceptible door by the side of the altar. There, they were met by a solitary figure, who sat before the door. He seemed to be in some form of trance as he had his head bowed.

“David,” Simon called.

The man snapped up and on seeing Femi, he shot to his feet. “Who is he? And who has he got on his shoulders?” His eyes glared with murderous intensity.

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I’m drawing the curtain here. I’m going to complete the story and publish it, so if you haven’t already, subscribe to my blog to be informed when the book will be available for download.



To Hunt A Level Four – Part 8

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To Hunt A Level Four – Part 8

“For who can stand before Destruction? Hath God not said it? Dust ye came from, to dust ye shall return. I am come to return you to dust. And so shall it be, that I return you to dust.” He laughed them to scorn—a sound most loud, most harsh, and most harrowing.

O for a thousand tongues to tell of the great terror that pervaded Femi’s soul! Terror so great that he did not realize when Scarlett wriggled his right arm to regain his attention. The mere proclamation of Destruction had forced upon himself a depression so great he struggled ten thousand leagues beneath its eternal weight. Indeed who could stand before Destruction? Indeed, who?

“Snap out of it, Femi!” Scarlett roared, a speck of desperation tainting her voice.

“Leave him!” Destruction boomed in reply. He smashed one feet into the ground and an earthquake immeasurable on the Richter scale shook the building. Splinters flew as darts everywhere. Loose cement fell to the ground. A gaping crack ran the length of the wall. The house divided along its center and separating, it revealed a deep chasm from which white smoke poured into the world. All these happened in a heartbeat, in a flurry that was beyond the grasp of the human mind. One moment, the house was whole, the next, it was a ruin—the result of a devastating war.

“Fear ye not my majesty?” His voice grew more enraged with each utterance. “Are you not terrified by my presence? Worship ye not the magnitude of my power?” Destruction laughed again and Femi could feel himself slinking back into shock.

Scarlett sprung to her feet. At first, she whirled around in the dense white smoke, which had placed in the realm of the unknown the exact location of Destruction. But then, she positioned herself in the direction where his voice had last reached to them from. All Femi could perceive of the hunter were her fists, which were symbols of her fearlessness—something Femi had kicked to the curb the moment Destruction made his appearance.

“He that dweleth in the secret place of the most high,” she said with a little caution, “shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”

Destruction roared in laughter—so hard, that a slight tremor developed in the earth. “What is it ye folks say nowadays—are you kidding me?” He laughed hard again.

Not deterred, Scarlett continued. Femi could feel her power build. “I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in HIM will I trust.”

“And where is He now?” Destruction interrupted his fits of laughter to proclaim. Shortly after, he continued. Femi could imagine him laughing on his belly, enraptured in boisterous mirth. However, he felt like something was changing in the room, insidiously, surreptitiously, unrevealed and covered in a holy darkness, that change flourished.

Scarlett continued, “Surely He shall deliver me from the snare of the fowler and from the noisome pestilence.”

Destruction choked. There was a startling silence. A wind began to stir in the room.

Scarlett’s voice took on more strength and conviction. “He shall cover me with His feathers, and under His wings shall I trust: His truth shall be my shield and my buckler.”

“No—wait! What are you doing?” Fear filled Destruction’s voice.

“I shall not be afraid for the Terror by night—”

“No! Stop that!”—the wind grew to a noisome whirl.

“—nor for the Arrow that flieth by day.”

Destruction screamed in anger and fear and marched towards them. The smoke parted his way with forceful exertion, however, an invisible force got a hold of him and held him bound in unseen fetters. He struggled and experienced no avail.

Scarlett’s voice rose to a bellow. “Nor for the Pestilence that walketh in the darkness.”

“Wait! Speak it not!”

“Nor for the Destruction that wasteth at noonday!”

The roar of the hurricane in the room drowned her last words. The hurricane swept Destruction off the ground. The smoke, though it still veiled everything perceivable by sight, swung around Destruction with the speed and violence of the winds.

“I charge you in the name of God: be gone!

The hurricane leapt to put into execution Scarlett’s command. It sprung off the ground and carried Destruction, who still screamed—bound—in fury, out of the room. Soon after, the smoke dissipated. Soon after, Scarlett collapsed into Femi’s hands, weak and falling unconscious. Her face had wetted with perspiration; every muscle was slack as though she was on the brink of death. The very breath of her nostrils were shallow and hot.

For a moment, Femi shifted his gaze from her pale face and swept in his surroundings. The room had totally cleared of the smoke: it was a sight of true and utter destruction, a scene of profound desolation. The house had separated along an axis less than four feet from him, revealing the parlor, the compound, and the street outside through a gaping crack. The crack ran for at least twenty feet into the ground, forming a chasm. Loose sand and rubble fell to the ground at the corners; the ceiling threatened to cave in. It would, Femi noted, in a few minutes.

Femi looked back down at Scarlett and saw that she had been looking on him the whole time. She smiled, her eyes drooping. “Twenty six, Allen Avenue. Take us there now.” She paused. Femi saw from the tightness at the corner of her eyes that each word she spoke required an exertion of strength. “Ask for Jonathan,” she breathed, “he can locate the witch and you can help him. Destruction will be back.” As the last words left her mouth, so did she live the world of the conscious: with the soft exhalation of breath.

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To Hunt A Level Four – Part 7

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To Hunt A Level Four – Part 7

When he finally regained his wits, he found himself on the floor and a blade pointed to his forehead.

Femi heard a wail proceed from his lips. It was a pathetic sound that remained aloft in the small room. The lady sniggered and shoved the blade to his chin. Femi’s body trembled at the mortal cold touch of the bright blade and let it raise his head such that he gazed upon this beautiful death. For she was both beautiful and deathly.

Her face must have been divinely sculptured, no doubt created to lead the legendary amazons. Her skin was pale and smooth, a supple combination that called and pleaded and appealed for a touch or at least a longing for a touch. Her lips were thin and pressed into a line, but they were luscious. They were blood red. Her eyes…her eyes were a startling hazel.

Scarlett snarled deeply. Yet, twisting her face in the most grotesque of ways did nothing to ruffle her splendor. She had a powerful energy revolving her being, crashing into the walls of the room, and reverberating back upon them. She was in control. She was in charge. She was a senior witch hunter.

She looked deep into his eyes. “You failed,” she whispered, like the whisperings of lovers in the night. “You have failed your sacred duty. The Conclave has sent me to clean things up.”

“Is that why you came?” Femi’s hurt had evolved to anger. “To rub in my failure and then kill me?”

She gave a sarcastic smile. The whole room lit up like the first few minutes of dawn as her lips revealed a perfect set of white teeth. She descended to her knees—a fluid and graceful motion that could have fooled the eyes for the pleasure it gave. There was an erotic softness to her eyes, to her gaze, and to the way she held her lips. “If I wanted to kill you,” she breathed, causing Femi to pull nearer to hear, “you’d already be dead.” She rose to her feet, turned, and walked back towards the mirror.

Now that she wasn’t so close, Femi realized he was short of breath. He sucked in a lungful of God’s precious air and let his heart calm down, all the while observing the witch hunter. Femi felt two emotions towards her. Envy and yearning. She possessed an uncanny audaciousness that bothered on impudence. The way she strode, you could have mistaken her for a king—not a queen, but a king! A brash king. Yet, there was no atom of masculinity to her. He found himself envying these qualities and yet yearning for the girl that she was.

Femi was close to twenty six and had no person in his life. It was a cold and dark place to be, and it was where Femi had made a home.

“Why have you come, then? Where have you come from? You are not from these parts are you?”

Scarlett stood before the mirror gazing around the frame as if observing the complexities of the artlessly designed glass. Whatever had piqued her interest about the mirror, it could not be observed by the mere eyes.

“Where I come from is none of your business,” replied Scarlett. “Why I’ve come is to kill the level four that you failed to kill.”

Femi scrambled to his feet. “Hey, I was told it was a level one. I certainly wasn’t expecting a level four! Someone messed up at the Conclave.”

Scarlett swung around to face him and took two quick steps towards him. Femi took an equal number of steps backwards and tried to force his body out of the fits of trembles that had wrapped around him.

“Are you listening to yourself?” She had a look of disgust on her face. “There’s a powerful witch running amok and you’re playing the blame game?” She drew nearer. “You know why I attacked you? It was to test you. To see if you were worthy of a promotion. But you failed. And Simon’s request will be denied.”

For a few seconds, they glared at each other.

“The Conclave has placed you under my direct command. You will do whatever I say.”

A spirit of anger fell upon Femi’s heart. He felt a great urge to grab a hold of the girl’s head and smash it into the wall. But even that couldn’t have quenched his fury. He bit his lips. “What do you need?”

“Look,” Scarlett started after a deep breath. Her demeanor seemed to have softened. “There was a breach at the Great White Temple. You were never meant to go up against a level four. You could have been killed. I’m sorry about that. But I need to locate this level four and find out what evil plan it has.”

Femi nodded. “How can I help?”

“Last night, when you were attacked, what did you see? What did it look like?”

“Nothing,” replied Femi. “It was definitely not human. But it had the form of human and was cloaked in a thick darkness that covered the whole street.”

“What?” Scarlett must have meant that as a question to him, however, it came out as a whisper and her eyes had already lost focus. She was in shock.

“Why? What kind of creature is this?” Fear taunted Femi’s heart. He furiously fought to keep from falling into it.

Scarlett’s gaze slid to him. “Open your scriptures to Psalms ninety one and verse five and six, and read aloud.” Then she turned and looked away.

Femi brought out the black book and searched out the passage. He felt like there was a swirl of utter despair around him, and that at any moment, he would fall in, never to see the light of life again. His finger settled on the scripture and he read. “Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.

Femi heard it—an almost imperceptible sigh escape the mouth of the red draped figure before him. Her shoulders were slack in resignation. Her head a little hung in submission. “The world is a very dangerous place, Femi,” she said wistfully, “a very dangerous place.” Her tone carried a hopelessness that made Femi want to cry out in distress.

“What does that mean?” Femi asked.

Still backing him, she said, “There are four of them. Four spawns of a level four. Terror. Arrow. Pestilence. Destruction. You fought Pestilence, the one that walketh in darkness.” She was quiet for a while, then she added, “you shouldn’t be alive. They want you alive. Which means whatever they’re planning, you’re an important piece.”

“How can that be?” Femi replied, few seconds from irreparable panic, “the witch said my living or dying was of no consequence to their plan.”

“Does it surprise you? Are they not children of the one who is father of all lies?”

There was a silence.

“There’s one more thing.” Scarlett turned.

“What?” asked Femi.

“These four: Terror, Arrow, Pestilence, Destruction—they are related. Pestilence and Terror are night creatures and so they only operate in the night. Arrow and Destruction are day creatures and so they only operate in the day. When one comes—”

“Others will follow,” Femi cut her off with a whisper. “Terror, Arrow, and Destruction.”

She nodded. “There will be deaths. Deaths on an unimaginable scale. We can’t let that happen. I can’t let that happen.” Her resolution was evident both in her tone and in her eyes.

“How can we stop them, then?”

Scarlett shook her head. “You don’t seem to understand.” She came up so close to him that he could perceive the alluring freshness in her lustrous black hair. “Going up against any of these dark spawns is suicidal. We go after the level four. We kill her, and they’ll vanish.”

“Simon says the level four witch went to Enugu. But Enugu is a large place. It’s like finding a drop of water in an ocean.”

Scarlett smiled. “I know a guy.”

That was all she got out of her mouth before the door broke free of its hinges with an explosive sound and flew into the room. Scarlett jerked him down in a duck as the door tore over their heads and smashed into the mirror.

A deep laughter rumbled into the room from the adjoining parlor. Smoke flowed in overlapping waves into the room and soon, they were engulfed in a flood of white smoke. A figure stood in the doorway and remained. From this figure proceeded forth another deep and dreadful laughter.

“Who are you?” Scarlett’s voice was hard and strong, but her hands still gripped Femi’s body, and they trembled with fear.

The figure came into the room and let loose a guttural laughter that shook every bone of Femi’s body. It was fear unspeakable—full of terror!

“I am the Destruction that wasteth at noonday. I am the father of Pandemonium, and Chaos and Mayhem are my children. All die before me and behind me there’s only grief and sorrow. Darkness is my birthright, eternal sadness for menfolk is my earnest desire and sole purpose. I am the author of fear and the messenger of death. None can stand before me. No life can exist in my presence. I have come to finish what Pestilence started. And I shall finish what Pestilence started.” He laughed again. And again. And again—an unending melody of their departure from this life. The white smoke had thickened such that nothing was visible save the figure of a man, which man was no man, but Destruction that spoke with a deep rumble of a voice. “For who can stand before Destruction? Hath God not said it? Dust ye came from, to dust ye shall return. I am come to return you to dust. And so shall it be, that I return you to dust.” He laughed them to scorn—harshly, loudly, and harrowingly.

To Hunt A Level Four – Part 6

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To Hunt A Level Four – Part 6

“I go kill you if you no commot here, now,” the man roared with a sharp, evil look.

The short man remained unfazed. “Kill me?” His features took upon themselves a fearful display of fury. “KILL ME?” Then without warning, he vaulted forward.

Femi’s breath held in his chest as he watched the short man bring his weapon to bear on the taller man. The machete came up quickly and deflected the shard of bottle. A rapturous gasp rippled through the multitude. For a second, the two men were separated by the force of the deflection; but it was only a second. The two men snarled and attacked each other again.

Femi turned his back on the scene. His heart was already pounding away. He had two choices: abandon his bike and run or stay. However, abandoning his bike wasn’t an option he could afford. It had cost a fortune to acquire such finely sculptured piece of machinery. Having made his decision, he retrieved his book and white stone from his jacket. He found a scripture in the book of Philippians chapter four and verse seven, and with his faith, he highlighted: and the peace that surpasseth all understanding. “I believe, I receive,” he muttered. And just as the words escaped his lips, a boldness like an overcoat was thrown on him. Suddenly, he felt like he had power of this crisis.

He turned around and marched through the cheering crowd into the safe distance they had left between themselves and the wrestling men. As he approached them, the crowd fell to whispers. And then to silence. The men, who were now on the floor, devoid of their weapons which were strewn about, paused for no reason and looked up at him. There was a confusion in their eyes, like the transient confusion that is the remnant of a long sleep.

Femi towered over them. “This is my bike,” he said, feeling his words flow forth from his mouth in waves of irresistible power, exerting irresistible control upon all who would dare listen. “I will mount it and drive away. And as I do, you will not fight over this matter again. You will forget you ever saw me.” Femi swiveled on his heels and faced the crowd, who looked upon him, aghast. “And that goes for all of you.” His hands traced an arc along their faces.

The men remained locked in a motionless wrestle, looking too stunned to fight. The crowd had stilled, not a muscle moved, yet they looked at him, eyes full of wits, minds muddled by a power that was beyond them. It was peace: power over crisis.

Femi felt a smile slither onto his face. He walked around the men on the floor and mounted his bike. Producing the keys to his bike from his pocket, he fired the engine. He remained motionless, unnecessarily, on the bike for a full minute, just to remain within the vicinity of his great display of power. It gave him pleasure to see the multitude remain gripped by an unseen force—a force he commanded. He revved the engine.

The moment he started moving, they parted, creating a path for him. He drove through the path until he was through the last row of people; he zoomed off into the early morning traffic.

Before he turned into the highway, he looked back and saw that the crowd had begun to disperse. Femi chuckled. Power over crisis.

He got to his house less than twenty minutes later. It was a respectable three story building, home to four families and two singles, him included. His apartment was the forward one on the ground level, near the gate, the one with the small verandah. The house was empty and silent—in fact, the whole street was silent, unlike where he was coming from. Most people were already at work or toiling in the traffic snarl that stretched the distance between Ikorodu and Mile Twelve.

Femi brought the bike to a stop in his parking space and dismounted the vehicle. He basked in the euphoria he felt about handling the situation with his bike until he got to the door that led into his house. The moment he was by his door, memories of last night’s encounter came back to him forcefully. Bitterness settled in afterwards. He turned the knob and let himself in. Once he was sure the door was locked behind him, he threw himself on top of his sofa. There was a level four on the loose. How had he survived? Simon said he had been spared. Why? Witches, especially level fours, didn’t just do anything. Whatever they did, it was for a reason.

For what reason had he been spared? As Femi yet pondered these things, he heard a most peculiar sound come from his white room. Peculiar because it would have belonged to a man had his mind followed logical reasoning. But Femi refused to believe there was a man in his house. Maybe because the ramifications were too severe to contemplate; maybe because he was scared. He remained riveted to the sofa, his breathing becoming a terrifying sound to his ears.

The sound came again. There was someone walking in his white room. The hellish terror of a thousand damned souls gripped his body. Why, he did not know. Femi wrestled with his jacket to get out his faith and his scriptures. He sprung to his feet once he had the two sacred objects in his hands. He had the scriptures open to the armory in Ephesians and activated the sword of the spirit.

Femi held the white gleaming blade to his face and drew nearer to the door. The door handle looked as pale as death. Femi understood quite well that the moment he touched that handle and confronted this trespasser, death could fall on him swiftly. Grabbing a hold of his mind before it became ensnared by fear unspeakable, Femi gripped the handle and twisted. He rushed into the room until his eyes fell on he who had entered his house. Then, his legs lost its impulse and froze, leaving his body standing immobile at the center of the room.

There, before his mirror, stood a tall figure draped in a red robe. This figure became aware of his presence and yet remained facing the floor-to-ceiling glass. Femi peeked beyond the slender shoulders into the mirror and observed that this figure was that of a lady; a stunning half caste. Her eyes darted across the surface of the mirror to look into his: they were a storm of burning concentration. A swirl that could only be described by two word: eternal deepness.

Femi looked away.

He felt the air charge with power; power that was quickly building.

“Who are you?” Femi dared a question at the senior witch hunter. “And why have you come?”

The lady straightened her robe and turning to face him, she said, “I am Scarlett. And I have come to slay you.” Without warning, she vaulted into the air. Around her, gravity seemed to lose its meaning because she skipped higher into the air, when she should have been falling. At the top of her ascent, a blade much similar to his appeared in her hands. She descended upon him with a snarl, a poised blade, and a deadly beautiful face which wanted nothing more than to see his head roll off his body. Her read robe rapped in wriggles around her in an unending song of his demise.

Her blade struck his with a blinding flash—a flash that disoriented him. A sudden space emerged between his palms. Where the sword had been a moment ago, held in his grip, a volume of air occupied. His palms clasped each other, his sword shattered by the force of impact. Still shocked, he felt a fist strike his chest, sending him reeling, breathless, to the back of the room. When he finally regained his wits, he found himself on the floor and a blade pointed to his forehead.