The first rule of being hunted, Kade decided, was never to assume the hunter would announce himself.
The second was to stop answering unknown numbers.
Unfortunately, Tobi had learned neither.
"Hello?"
Kade looked up from his notebook.
Tobi stood beside the clinic window, phone pressed to his ear.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
Then Tobi’s expression changed.
Kade straightened.
"What’s wrong?"
Tobi raised one finger.
"How did you get this number?"
The voice on the other end was too faint for Kade to hear.
Tobi listened for several seconds.
Then said, "He’s not available."
Kade held out his hand.
Tobi shook his head.
"Because I said so."
Another pause.
"No, you cannot speak to him."
The call ended.
Tobi stared at his phone.
Kade waited.
"Well?"
Tobi swallowed.
"Someone wants to examine you."
Kade closed his eyes.
"Wonderful."
The caller had been polite.
That was what bothered Tobi.
"He didn’t threaten me," he explained. "Didn’t shout. Didn’t even sound annoyed."
"What did he say?"
"That Kade Adeyemi had been selected for a private spiritual assessment."
Kade stopped writing.
"Selected?"
"His word."
"By whom?"
"He said the assessment was being arranged on behalf of a House."
"Which House?"
"Wouldn’t say."
Kade added the information to his notebook.
UNKNOWN CALLER. CLAIMED HOUSE AUTHORITY. REQUESTED ASSESSMENT.
Tobi watched him.
"You’re taking this very calmly."
"I’m trying."
"Because yesterday you nearly threw your notebook at Bamidele."
"That was an emotional misunderstanding."
"You missed him by three inches."
Kade looked up.
"I wasn’t aiming."
"Exactly my concern."
Despite himself, Kade smiled.
Then he asked, "Did the caller say where?"
"Yes."
The smile vanished.
"Where?"
"A private diagnostic centre in Ikeja."
Kade frowned.
"Medical?"
"That’s what he called it."
"Did he give a name?"
Tobi checked his notes.
"Meridian Assessment Centre."
Kade wrote it down.
"Appointment?"
"Tomorrow. Ten in the morning."
"Did you agree?"
"No."
"Good."
Tobi hesitated.
"There’s something else."
Kade sighed.
"Of course there is."
"He said attendance was voluntary."
Kade looked up.
"And?"
Tobi’s voice lowered.
"He also said refusing might make it difficult for the House to guarantee your safety."
The clinic fell quiet.
Mama Efe listened without interrupting.
When Tobi finished, she folded her arms.
"That’s not an invitation."
Kade nodded.
"That’s what I thought."
"Someone offers you a medical examination you didn’t request, refuses to identify who authorized it, and suggests you’ll be unsafe if you decline?"
"Yes, ma."
"Then you decline."
Tobi looked toward the window.
"What if they come here?"
Mama Efe’s expression hardened.
"They’ll find a locked door."
Kade appreciated her confidence.
He didn’t share it.
He had seen what a Vessel Realm cultivator could do to a classroom door.
A lock wasn’t much protection against someone determined to ignore it.
But saying that aloud would only frighten her.
Instead, he asked, "Can we verify whether the centre exists?"
Mama Efe nodded.
"That would be sensible."
Tobi reached for his phone.
Kade stopped him.
"Not from the number that just received the call."
"Why?"
"Because whoever called already has it. Let’s not give them more information."
Tobi considered that.
"Fair."
Mama Efe returned to her desk.
"I’ll make an inquiry through a colleague." Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Bamidele arrived an hour later.
Kade showed him the details.
The repairman read them twice.
"Meridian Assessment Centre," he murmured.
"Know it?"
"No."
"Could it be connected to the Seven Houses?"
"Possibly."
Kade waited.
Bamidele looked at him.
"What?"
"Nothing. I’m enjoying the consistency of your answers."
The repairman ignored him.
"Did they mention payment?"
"No."
"Consent forms?"
"No."
"Who would conduct the assessment?"
"Didn’t say."
Bamidele placed the paper down.
"Then there’s nothing to consider yet."
Tobi frowned.
"What if it’s genuine?"
"Then whoever arranged it can identify themselves and explain what they intend to do."
Kade nodded.
He remembered the woman in grey attempting to restrain him with an Ase thread.
She had also wanted an examination.
And she hadn’t waited for permission.
"Can a spiritual assessment hurt someone?" he asked.
Bamidele hesitated.
"Some can."
"How?"
"Depends on the method. Ordinary Ase assessments involve sensing or measuring a person’s Core and spiritual channels. More invasive examinations exist."
Kade felt his stomach tighten.
"What happens if someone doesn’t have a Core?"
"I don’t know."
That answer was becoming familiar.
But it was better than false reassurance.
By afternoon, Mama Efe had spoken with her colleague.
She returned holding a sheet of paper.
"The name exists."
Kade sat straighter.
"Meridian?"
"There’s a registered diagnostic business with a similar name in Ikeja. My colleague couldn’t confirm that it’s the same facility."
"Does it conduct spiritual assessments?"
"Not openly."
Tobi leaned forward.
"So it could be a front?"
"Or a completely unrelated business," Mama Efe replied.
Kade nodded.
They had a name.
Not proof.
He added another note.
CENTRE IDENTITY UNVERIFIED.
Then his phone rang.
Not his own phone.
That remained dead.
Adunni’s locked phone, resting beside his notebook.
The screen lit up.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
Kade stared.
Tobi stopped breathing.
The ringing continued.
Kade didn’t answer immediately.
He looked at Mama Efe.
Then Bamidele.
Neither spoke.
Finally, he accepted the call.
"Hello?"
A man’s voice answered.
"Good afternoon, Kade."
Kade’s grip tightened.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Ekanem."
"Full name?"
A brief pause.
"Ekanem is sufficient for now."
"Then this conversation is going to be short."
The man chuckled softly.
"You’re cautious."
"I’m learning."
"Good. Caution is valuable."
Kade glanced at Tobi.
"What do you want?"
"To discuss an opportunity."
"An examination?"
"Among other things."
"Who do you represent?"
"A family with an interest in unusual spiritual conditions."
"Which family?"
"That information will be provided when appropriate."
Kade felt anger rise.
"You’re asking me to trust people who won’t identify themselves."
"I’m asking you to consider a conversation."
"Then explain why you’re calling my mother’s phone."
Silence.
For the first time, Ekanem seemed uncertain.
"Is this not your number?"
Kade stared at the screen.
"No."
A pause.
"Then I apologize for the confusion."
Kade’s pulse quickened.
The caller hadn’t necessarily known whose phone he was reaching.
That mattered.
"Where did you get this number?"
"Convenient."
Ekanem’s tone cooled.
"Mr Adeyemi, I would advise against treating every offer of assistance as a threat."
"Then stop making threats sound like assistance."
Another silence.
Then Ekanem spoke more carefully.
"Your condition is unusual. There are people who would prefer to understand it rather than fear it."
"And what happens if I refuse?"
"That is your right."
"Will your people leave me alone?"
"I can’t speak for everyone."
Kade looked toward Bamidele.
The repairman shook his head slightly.
Kade understood.
No promises.
No guarantees.
Just carefully chosen words.
"Then I have nothing else to say."
He ended the call.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Tobi whispered, "You hung up on a man who might work for one of the Seven Houses."
Kade stared at the phone.
"Yes."
"That’s either very brave or very stupid."
"Probably both."
Bamidele looked troubled.
"What did he mean by your condition?"
Kade shook his head.
"I don’t know."
"Did he mention the absence of your Core?"
"No."
"Then don’t assume he knows exactly what you are."
Kade nodded.
Another distinction.
Another uncertainty.
He placed Adunni’s phone on the table.
The call had come through her number.
Not his.
Someone had supplied that number to Ekanem.
But whether it came from an old record, a recent investigation, or something else remained unknown.
That evening, Kunle sent a message.
Can we postpone the meeting?
Kade frowned.
He replied through Tobi’s phone.
Is everything okay?
Kunle answered several minutes later.
Someone came asking about my father’s old records.
Kade sat upright.
Tobi leaned closer.
Who?
The reply came slowly.
A man claiming to represent a legal office.
Kade’s stomach tightened.
Did he identify himself?
He left a card.
A photograph appeared.
Cream paper.
A telephone number.
Seven small circles surrounding a larger one.
Kade stared.
The same design Bamidele had received.
He reached for the envelope containing the first card.
Placed them side by side.
The printed symbols appeared identical.
That didn’t prove the visitors worked for the Seven Houses.
But it established that the same design was being used in both approaches.
Tobi looked at him.
"They’re asking about the records now."
Kade nodded.
"Apparently."
"Do you think they know about the old envelope?"
"I don’t know."
Tobi rubbed his forehead.
"What do we do?"
Kade considered the question.
Kunle had done nothing except agree to help.
Now strangers were approaching him.
That was no longer a risk Kade could ignore.
"Tell him not to hand over anything based on a card alone," Kade said. "And not to meet anyone privately."
Tobi typed.
A reply arrived almost immediately.
Too late.
Kade felt cold.
What do you mean?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then Kunle’s message arrived.
He said the records belong to the House.
Kade stared at the screen.
A second message followed.
I asked him to prove it.
Then a third.
He showed me a document with my father’s signature.
Kade slowly looked up.
Tobi’s expression mirrored his own.
The mystery had changed.
Until now, the Seven Houses had been a name spoken in warnings.
A distant power.
Something that existed beyond the ordinary streets of Lagos.
Now someone claiming their authority possessed a document signed by Kunle’s dead father.
And that document concerned records connected to Adunni Adeyemi.
Kade looked at the two cream cards.
For the first time, he wondered whether the people hunting him had been searching for his mother long before he knew they existed.