Age of Sango(Naija Demigods Chronicles #1)

A Fated Meet

From the smell of disinfectants and undercurrent of disease in the atmosphere, Kola knew he was not in hades but a place he considered hell. He hated hospitals. To him, they barely seemed able to carry out their sole purpose of saving human lives, plus most nights, his dreams were haunted by the tortured moans of the sick and dying as well as the loud, doleful wails of those who have just learned of the death of a loved one, floating out of the corridors.

He tried to open his eyes but they felt like they had been glued shut and he was really groggy possibly from the anaesthesia; which in his own opinion wasn't strong enough because he still ached all over. Kola felt like he'd been passed through a grinding machine-the type with the loud engines used in market places.

He wanted to open his mouth to bemoan his condition, but his lips and tongue and throat were just too dry and felt like they were coated with sand from the Sahara. So instead, he laid still till he drifted into a drug induced slumber few minutes after.

Omítọ̀nàdé felt like killing her eighteen-year-old sister, Ifedayo, for the morning she'd had—only one thing prevented her from committing sororicide, maybe two. She'd just about plumped herself on the living room couch right in front of the one hundred and twenty inch plasma screen, a remote control in her hand about to Netflix and chill on the new movie releases when the call came in. From then on, her day had spiralled downwards. She'd had to cancel her perfectly planned day in, get dressed up and meet her sister at the hospital. Getting there, she had been forced to use gbetugbetu to hypnotize virtually everyone-the doctor, the nurses, the police officers present—to quiet the chaos. Her body felt drained from the ashe she expended naiting the charm. And then she saw him—the reason for the pandemonium and one of her excuse for sparing her sister's life—the boy in her dreams.

Just about then, her father, Chief Segun Oluwawemimo came into the hospital wearing his impeccably white agbada and a frightening expression on his face. Omítọ̀nàdé had never seen him that mad and was glad she wasn't going to be the recipient of his anger. He called Ife to himself and she approached him meekly like a lamb to the slaughter, then he raged at her in Yoruba-that's when she knew the proverbial shit had hit the fan. He asked for Ife's drivers licence which she produced after rummaging through her handbag, then he snapped it into two and let the unequal halves fall to the floor. After he was done with her, he turned his attention Omítọ̀nàdé and found a way to blame her for the mishap—the way parent apportion blames to older sibling for their younger ones mistakes, then he stormed out of the hospital telling her to take care of everything.

Once things had settled down, she'd sent her frantic sister home in a cab. Omítọ̀nàdé went to her car, drove out to get some supplies and a book for her entertainment, then she returned to the hospital to wait.

Kola awoke hours later. This time, a heady vanilla scent wafted through the air, though underneath it the smell of bleach remained. Opening his eyes, Kola found himself in a small, typical hospital room that was sparse but seemed functional. Its white-painted ceiling tiles and walls were slightly sullied and an open window somewhat above his head threw the fading amber light of sunset on the tiled floor. A small plasma screen showing a muted Nollywood flick hung parallel to the fenestration in-between two mahogany doors. Across from his, one other hospital cot stood in the room, with its male occupant fast asleep.

The source of the pleasant scent was a beatific faced female, who appeared to be in her early 20's sitting on the white plastic chair by his bedside with an unread book on her lap, her gaze fastened on him.

From the way the that she was dressed, he knew she wasn't a nurse or a doctor. She wore a large black T-shirt with the words 'Normal people scare me' boldly printed on it with dark-blue mom jeans. On her left wrist was a bead bracelet, Kola noticed: alternately threaded terracotta and light green beads.