# THE BLOOD-STAINED GUARDIAN - CHAPTER 20: THREADS
---
The morning came slowly, filtering through the thin curtains of Osaze's apartment in pale, hesitant light.
Osaze lay in the top bunk, staring at the ceiling. His body ached—a deep, bone-tired soreness that reminded him of every brutal second of the fight he couldn't fully remember. His ribs throbbed. His hands were bruised, knuckles split and scabbed over. And somewhere in the back of his mind, behind the fog of exhaustion, was the image of a door.
A massive, black door.
And something behind it.
*What was that?*
He closed his eyes, trying to pull the memory into focus. But it slipped away, like smoke through his fingers.
Below him, on the bottom bunk, Kemi slept. Her breathing was soft and steady, a rhythmic sound that somehow made the apartment feel less empty. She'd insisted on staying after everything that happened. Refused to leave. And Osaze hadn't argued.
He was glad she was here.
The apartment was small—barely big enough for one person, let alone four. But after the police had finished processing the scene at Mr. Chuks' apartment, after the neighbors had been questioned and sent back to their homes with warnings to stay away from the "structurally unstable" building, Chidi and Amara had decided it was safer to regroup here.
Away from prying eyes.
Away from questions they couldn't answer.
Osaze shifted slightly, trying not to wake Kemi, and glanced across the room.
Damian and Chidi sat at the small dining table near the window, hunched over a makeshift evidence board. It was cobbled together from a corkboard Osaze had bought months ago for school notes, now covered in photographs, newspaper clippings, handwritten notes, and red string connecting different pieces of information.
They'd been at it for hours.
Neither of them had slept.
---
Damian leaned back in his chair, his dark fingers drumming against the edge of the table. His red eyes—usually sharp and calculating—were slightly dulled by fatigue, but he refused to rest. He couldn't. Not when there were still so many unanswered questions.
*What the hell happened last night?*
He'd seen Osaze fight before. Seen him struggle. Seen him survive by the skin of his teeth, powered by desperation and Ìgè's influence.
But last night?
That wasn't Osaze.
Damian had watched from a distance as the boy—*no, not the boy, something else*—tore through ÀJẸ́KU like it was nothing. Ripped the entity apart piece by piece with a precision that was almost surgical. No hesitation. No fear.
Just *violence*.
Controlled. Intelligent. Terrifying.
And when it was over, when Ìgè had devoured what was left of the entity and the presence inside Osaze had released him, Damian had seen the look on the boy's face.
Confusion.
Horror.
*He doesn't remember.*
Damian glanced at the bunk bed, where Osaze lay awake but silent, staring at the ceiling.
*He doesn't remember what he became.*
---
Chidi, on the other hand, was focused on the board.
The detective's mind worked like a machine—sorting, cataloging, connecting. He'd spent years building cases, following threads, finding patterns in chaos. And this? This was chaos of the highest order.
But there *was* a pattern.
He could feel it.
His eyes scanned the photos pinned to the board—images of victims. Not Mr. Chuks' victims. Those were different. Small. Pathetic sacrifices to a minor entity.
No.
These were the *real* targets.
**Folake Adeyemi** - Kemi's mother. Descendant of Oya worshippers. Disappeared six months ago.
**Eisoje Evbuomwan** - Osaze's father. Killed in his own home. Connected to ancestral rites through his bloodline.
**Adebayo Mensah** - Community elder. Practiced traditional religion openly. Found dead three weeks ago.
**Yetunde Okafor** - University professor. Researched pre-colonial spiritual practices. Missing.
And more.
Fifteen names in total.
All connected to the old gods.
All either dead or missing.
And beneath those photos, scrawled in Chidi's handwriting, were notes connecting them to a larger network. Patterns. Locations. Dates.
And at the center of it all, a question mark.
*Who's coordinating this?*
Chidi's wrist communicator buzzed.
He glanced down at it, saw his wife's name flashing on the holographic display, and grimaced.
*Not now.*
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
And again.
Damian looked up from the board. "You going to get that?"
Chidi shook his head. "It's not important."
The communicator buzzed a fourth time.
Damian raised an eyebrow. "She's persistent."
Chidi sighed, rubbing his temples. "She always is."
The communicator buzzed a fifth time, and this time it didn't stop. The buzz turned into a continuous hum, the holographic display flashing urgently.
**INCOMING VIDEO CALL - WIFE**
Damian smirked. "I think you should answer that."
Chidi glared at him, but he knew Damian was right. If he didn't answer now, she'd just keep calling. And calling. And calling.
He tapped the communicator, and a holographic projection flickered to life above his wrist.
His wife's face appeared—sharp features, dark eyes blazing with barely contained fury.
"WHERE ARE YOU?!"
Her voice was loud. Too loud.
Across the room, Osaze sat up in the bunk, startled. Kemi stirred, groaning softly.
Chidi stood quickly, stepping away from the table. "Honey, I can explain—"
"DON'T 'HONEY' ME!" she snapped. "Where have you been?! You haven't been home in two days! TWO DAYS, CHIDI!"
"I'm working on a case—"
"A case?! You're ALWAYS working on a case!" Her voice cracked, a mix of anger and hurt. "Are you trying to abandon us?! Is that it?! You think you can just disappear and I won't notice?!"
Chidi's jaw tightened. "I'm not abandoning anyone. I'm doing my job."
"Your job?!" She leaned closer to the camera, her eyes narrowing. "Whose house are you in?! I can see the background! WHO IS THAT?!"
The hologram flickered as she tilted her device, trying to see more of the apartment.
Damian, still sitting at the table, gave Chidi a small, apologetic wave.
Chidi's wife's eyes widened. "IS THAT A MAN?! ARE YOU—ARE YOU CHEATING ON ME?!"
"WHAT?! NO!" Chidi's voice rose, his frustration boiling over. "I'm not cheating! I'm working!"
"LIAR!"
"I'M NOT—"
"WHO ELSE IS THERE?! LET ME SEE!"
The hologram swiveled wildly as Chidi tried to keep the camera away from the rest of the room.
But it was too late.
His wife caught a glimpse of Kemi sitting up in the bunk bed, rubbing her eyes.
Silence.
And then—
"WHO IS THAT GIRL?!"
Chidi closed his eyes, his hand tightening around the communicator. "She's a witness. We're protecting her."
"A WITNESS?! IN A BEDROOM?!"
"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!"
"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!"
Chidi's patience snapped. "You know what? I don't have time for this."
He cut the call.
The hologram flickered out.
He stood there for a moment, breathing hard, his hand still gripping the communicator.
And then, with a frustrated growl, he hurled it across the room.
It clattered against the wall and fell to the floor, the screen cracked.
The apartment was silent.
Osaze, Kemi, and Damian all stared at him.
Amara, who had just walked in through the front door carrying a bag of breakfast, paused in the doorway, blinking.
"...Rough morning?" she said.
Chidi turned to her, his expression dark. "Let's just focus on the case."
Amara nodded slowly, setting the bag on the counter. "Right. The case."
---
They ate in silence—akara, moi moi, fried plantains, bread, and pepper stew. The food was warm and filling, but no one spoke. The tension from Chidi's call still hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable.
Finally, Kemi broke the silence.
"So," she said, chewing on a piece of plantain. "What's the plan?"
Chidi looked up from his plate, his expression grim. "We need to know who ordered us to stop investigating."
Osaze frowned. "You were ordered to stop?"
Chidi nodded. "Two days ago. My captain called me into his office and told me to drop the case. No explanation. Just... drop it."
"Who gave the order?" Osaze asked.
"That's what we need to find out," Amara said. She leaned against the counter, her arms crossed. "And the only way to do that is to access the captain's files."
Osaze raised an eyebrow. "You're going to hack your own boss?"
"Not me," Chidi said. He glanced at Damian.
Damian smirked. "Not me either."
Chidi's gaze shifted to Kemi.
Kemi froze, a piece of bread halfway to her mouth. "What?"
Damian leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Don't play dumb. I know what you did."
Kemi's eyes widened. "I don't know what you're—"
"You hacked into Caliphate University's network," Damian said. "Last semester. Remember?"
Kemi's face flushed. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone!"
"I'm not *telling* anyone," Damian said. "I'm *asking* you to do it again."
Kemi stared at him, then at Chidi, then at Osaze.
Osaze looked genuinely shocked. "You hacked the university?"
Kemi groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It was *one time*. I failed a test. I panicked. And I just... fixed the result."
"Just fixed the result," Amara repeated, her tone flat. "You make it sound like you erased a typo."
"It's not that different!" Kemi protested.
Chidi leaned forward, his expression serious. "Kemi. Do you understand what you did? Caliphate University has one of the most advanced security systems in the country. It would take a supercharged AI with a hectare-sized server room *years* to crack that encryption. And you did it as a *human*."
Kemi shifted uncomfortably. "I mean... I had to install something in the background first. It wasn't that hard."
"What do you mean, 'install something in the background'?" Amara asked.
Kemi hesitated, then sighed. "I created a backdoor. Three small devices—nanites. I brought them to class one day, placed them on a lab computer during a practical session, and they melted into the system. After that, I could access the network remotely."
Damian whistled low. "You're a lot scarier than you look."
Kemi glared at him. "Shut up."
Chidi stood, walking over to her. He crouched down so he was at eye level with her, his expression serious but not unkind.
"Kemi," he said. "We need your help."
Kemi looked at him warily. "What kind of help?"
"We need to access my captain's computer," Chidi said. "Someone ordered us to stop investigating the murders. We need to know who. And why."
Kemi bit her lip, her gaze flicking to Osaze.
Osaze met her eyes. He didn't say anything. Didn't push.
He just waited.
Kemi exhaled slowly. "Does your captain use OneLink?"
Chidi blinked. "OneLink?"
"It's a system that connects all your devices," Kemi explained. "Phone, computer, tablet—everything syncs automatically. A lot of offices use it."
Chidi nodded slowly. "Yeah. The whole station uses OneLink."
Kemi's expression shifted, calculating. "Then it's easier than I thought. If I can get the nanites into his main computer, I can access everything on the network."
Amara raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"
Kemi shrugged. "Practically, yeah."
Chidi exchanged a glance with Amara. Then he looked back at Kemi.
"Can you do it?" he asked.
Kemi was silent for a long moment.
Then she nodded. "Yeah. I can do it."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small metal case. Inside were three metallic spheres, each about the size of a marble. They glinted in the morning light, smooth and seamless.
"These are the nanites," Kemi said. "Once they're activated, they'll melt into the system and establish the backdoor. After that, I can access the files remotely."
Chidi took the case, studying the spheres. "How long does it take?"
"A few minutes," Kemi said. "You just need to place them near the computer. They'll do the rest."
Chidi nodded, closing the case. "Then let's move."
---
Thirty minutes later, they were in Chidi's car—a battered sedan that had seen better days but still ran smoothly. Chidi drove, Amara in the passenger seat. Kemi sat in the back with Osaze and Damian, the metal case clutched in her hand.
The drive to the police station was tense.
No one spoke.
Kemi stared out the window, her mind racing. She'd never done anything like this before. Hacking her university grades was one thing—stupid, reckless, but ultimately harmless.
This?
This was *real*.
If they got caught, she'd be arrested. Charged with cybercrimes. Expelled from school.
Her life would be over.
But she looked at Osaze, sitting beside her, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists.
She thought about his father.
About her mother.
About the fifteen people who'd been murdered.
And she made her decision.
*Someone has to do something.*
---
The police station was a squat, concrete building in the heart of Eko Sector, surrounded by a chain-link fence and a small parking lot. It looked unremarkable—just another government building, weathered by time and neglect.
But as they approached, Kemi noticed something.
The parking lot was packed.
Officers rushed in and out of the building, their faces tense. Squad cars lined the street, lights flashing. A news van was parked near the entrance, a reporter speaking urgently into a camera.
Chidi frowned, slowing the car. "What's going on?"
Amara leaned forward, peering through the windshield. "I don't know. But something big just happened."
Chidi parked the car a block away, and they walked the rest of the distance. As they entered the station, the chaos became even more apparent.
Officers shouted into phones. Radios crackled with urgent chatter. A group of detectives huddled around a desk, arguing in low voices.
Chidi and Amara exchanged a glance.
"Wait here," Amara said. She walked over to one of her colleagues—a young officer she'd worked with before.
Kemi watched as they spoke, the officer leaning in close, his expression grave. Amara's face darkened.
She returned a moment later, her jaw tight.
"What's going on?" Chidi asked.
Amara hesitated. "There was an incident. At the New Dawn Church crusade."
Chidi's eyes narrowed. "What kind of incident?"
"Someone tried to shoot Pastor Ezekiel," Amara said quietly. "During his sermon. Four gunmen. They opened fire in front of hundreds of people."
Osaze's blood ran cold.
"Is he dead?" Damian asked.
Amara shook her head. "No. Apparently, he wasn't hit. The bullets missed. The Church is calling it a miracle."
Kemi felt a chill run down her spine.
Chidi's expression hardened. "We need to move fast. If the Church is involved, they'll be putting pressure on the department. We don't have much time."
They moved quickly through the station, past the rows of desks, toward the captain's office.
At the end of the hall was a door marked **CAPTAIN ADEWALE OKORO**.
Chidi stopped, his hand on the doorknob.
"He's in a meeting," he said quietly. "We have maybe ten minutes."
Kemi's mouth went dry. "Ten minutes?"
"Maybe less," Amara said.
Chidi opened the door.
Inside, the office was small and cluttered. A desk sat in the center, covered in stacks of paper, file folders, and a sleek, holographic computer terminal that flickered with soft blue light.
Kemi stepped inside, her eyes locked on the terminal.
*There it is.*
Chidi closed the door behind them.
Kemi pulled the metal case from her pocket and opened it. The three nanite spheres gleamed in the dim light.
She picked one up, her hand trembling slightly, and placed it on the desk near the terminal.
It sat there for a moment, inert.
And then it *moved*.
The sphere liquified, its surface rippling like water. It flattened, spreading across the desk in a thin, metallic film.
And then it *flowed*—sliding across the surface, up the side of the terminal, and into the ventilation port.
Gone.
Kemi placed the second sphere on the desk.
It did the same—liquifying, spreading, flowing into the system.
And the third.
Kemi's phone buzzed.
She pulled it out, her heart pounding.
A notification flashed on the screen:
**INSTALLATION COMPLETE - BACKDOOR ESTABLISHED**
Kemi let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
"We're in," she whispered. "We need to leave. Now."
---
They moved quickly, slipping out of the office and down the hallway. Chidi led the way, his expression calm and professional, nodding at officers as they passed.
But inside, his heart was racing.
*We just hacked into the captain's computer. If anyone finds out—*
They were almost to the exit when a voice called out behind them.
"Detective Chidi?"
Chidi froze.
He turned slowly.
A middle-aged officer stood a few feet away, his brow furrowed. He looked at Chidi, then at Osaze, his expression shifting to recognition.
"Wait," the officer said. "I know you."
Osaze's stomach dropped.
The officer stepped closer, studying Osaze's face. "You're... you're the kid whose father was killed, right? Eisoje Evbuomwan's son?"
Osaze nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir."
The officer's expression softened. "I'm sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man."
"Thank you," Osaze said quietly.
The officer glanced at Chidi. "What's he doing here?"
Chidi stepped forward smoothly. "I'm mentoring him. The kid wants to be a cop someday. Trying to honor his father's memory. Thought I'd show him what the job's really like."
The officer nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That's good. We need more young people like you." He looked at Osaze. "Keep your head up, kid. Your father would be proud."
Osaze forced a smile. "Thank you, sir."
The officer walked away.
Chidi exhaled slowly, his hand on Osaze's shoulder. "Let's go."
---
Back at Osaze's apartment, Kemi sat at the dining table, her laptop open in front of her. The screen glowed with lines of code, file directories, and encrypted documents.
Everyone stood around her, watching.
Kemi's fingers moved rapidly, navigating through the captain's files with practiced ease.
"Okay," she murmured. "Let's see what you've been hiding..."
She clicked through folder after folder—personnel files, case reports, budget documents.
And then she stopped.
Her eyes widened.
"Uh... guys?"
"What is it?" Chidi asked.
Kemi's face had gone pale. "I found something. But it's... it's disgusting."
She turned the laptop so they could see the screen.
A folder labeled **BUDGET REPORTS 2025** was open.
Inside were video files.
Kemi clicked on one.
Explicit content filled the screen—pornography, crude and graphic.
Damian groaned. "Seriously?"
Amara looked away. "This guy—"
Kemi closed the video quickly, her face flushed. "Wait. Something's wrong."
"What do you mean?" Chidi asked.
Kemi's eyes narrowed as she studied the file properties. "The file size doesn't match the video length. It's way too big."
She opened the file in a different program, running a diagnostic scan.
And then she smiled.
"Got you."
"What?" Osaze leaned closer.
"The porn videos are covers," Kemi said. "There's hidden data embedded inside. Emails. Transactions. Documents."
She extracted the files, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
And then she sat back, her expression grim.
"Chris, Amara, everyone—you need to see this."
---
They crowded around the laptop, reading in silence.
The hidden files contained email chains, financial records, and orders issued by someone high in the police department.
Commissioner Helen Adeyemi.
The emails were damning.
One read:
FROM: COMMISSIONER HELEN ADEYEMI
TO: CAPTAIN OLAMIDE OKORO
SUBJECT: Case Reassignment
*"Drop the investigation into the missing persons cases. Redirect resources to other priorities. This comes from the top. Do not question it."*
And below that, an older email.
From someone else.
Kemi scrolled down, her blood running cold.
**FROM: THE FOREIGNER
TO: COMMISSIONER HELEN ADEYEMI
SUBJECT: Cooperation and Mutual Benefit
"Commissioner, thank you for your continued support. As discussed, we will ensure that any complications are handled discreetly. Your cooperation in redirecting police attention will not go unrewarded. The Church remembers its friends."
Osaze's fists clenched.
Chidi's jaw tightened.
Damian exhaled slowly. "So the Church is paying off the police commissioner."
"And she's shutting down investigations to protect them," Amara added.
Kemi looked up at them, her voice quiet. "This goes all the way to the top."
Osaze stared at the screen, his fists clenched.
The email signature read: THE FOREIGNER.
No name. No face. Just a title.
Whoever was giving the orders was hidden. Protected.
But not for long, Osaze thought.
The room was silent for a long moment.
Then Chidi spoke, his voice hard. "We need a plan. A real one. Because if we go after the Church without solid evidence, we're all dead."
Osaze nodded, his eyes burning with barely contained rage. "Then we get evidence."
Earlier that morning, across the city.
Ezekiel stood in his hotel room, unpacking his belongings. The room was modest but comfortable—clean white walls, a small bed, a desk by the window. The Church had arranged it for him during the crusade, and he'd spent the last three days here, preaching to crowds, performing miracles, playing the role of the humble servant of God.
He was good at it.
Too good, maybe.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Ezekiel said, not looking up.
The door opened, and Grace stepped inside.
She was tall and elegant, her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her eyes were sharp, calculating. She wore a simple black dress, but there was nothing simple about the way she carried herself.
"Did it go well?" she asked, closing the door behind her.
Ezekiel glanced at her. "The meeting with the boy?"
"Yes."
Ezekiel nodded, folding a shirt and placing it in his bag. "He's broken. Alone. Incapable of anything. Whoever attacked us might be someone from the city. Rebels, maybe. Or someone else who has a grudge against the Church."
Grace waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. As long as he's not a threat."
"He's not," Ezekiel said.
Grace smiled. "Good. Now get ready for the last day of the crusade. It's time to get this torture over with."
Ezekiel turned to her, a small smile playing at his lips. He stepped closer, his hand moving to her waist, pulling her gently toward him.
"It might be torturous," he said softly. "But look at the sheep. Look at their faces when miracles are done. Look at the hope in their eyes when salvation is given to them." His smile widened. "It's beautiful."
Grace stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable.
Then she pulled away, shaking her head. "You're actually starting to like being a preacher."
Ezekiel chuckled. "Maybe."
Grace walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the handle. "Get ready faster. We have work to do."
She left.
Ezekiel stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door.
Then he turned back to his packing.
Ten minutes later, Ezekiel stepped out of his room and into the hotel hallway. He was dressed in a simple black suit, his Bible tucked under his arm.
Kyle was waiting for him.
The young man stood stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back. His face was pale, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
"Sir," Kyle said, his voice tight. "I found out more about the vampires."
Ezekiel stopped, looking at him. "Go on."
Kyle hesitated. "I've narrowed it down to a high vampire. Someone powerful. Someone with connections. I'm still trying to identify them, but..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening. "I'm sorry I failed you."
Ezekiel stepped closer, placing a hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Don't worry. The enemies of God cannot hide forever. They will be captured. Don't beat yourself up."
Kyle nodded, but his expression remained troubled.
I can't let him down again, Kyle thought. I can't.
Ezekiel squeezed his shoulder once, then walked past him, heading toward the elevator.
The crusade was held in a massive outdoor arena on the outskirts of the city. Thousands of people packed the stands, waving flags, singing hymns, their voices rising in a cacophony of praise.
The stage was massive, lit by powerful spotlights that cut through the evening sky. A choir stood at the back, dressed in flowing white robes. A large cross hung above the stage, glowing with soft golden light.
And at the center of it all, standing at the pulpit, was Ezekiel.
He raised his hands, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
"Thank you!" Ezekiel called out, his voice amplified by the microphone. "Thank you all for coming! God bless you! God bless each and every one of you!"
The crowd roared.
Ezekiel smiled—his gentle, shepherd's smile—and began to preach.
His voice was smooth, melodic, weaving through the crowd like a spell. He spoke of redemption. Of salvation. Of God's love and mercy.
And the crowd hung on his every word.
Backstage, Kyle stood in the shadows, watching.
Something felt wrong.
He couldn't explain it. Couldn't put it into words. But there was a tension in the air, a prickling at the back of his neck that made his instincts scream.
He scanned the crowd, his eyes moving over the sea of faces.
And then he saw it.
Movement.
A group of people pushing through the crowd, moving toward the front.
Kyle's heart skipped.
He stepped forward, his hand moving instinctively to the weapon holstered at his side.
Grace appeared beside him, her expression sharp. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," Kyle said. "But something's not right."
On stage, Ezekiel continued preaching, unaware.
The group reached the front row.
And then one of them shouted.
"THIS IS FOR WHAT THE CHURCH HAS DONE TO US!"
The crowd went silent.
Ezekiel stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening.
The man in the front row reached into his jacket.
Kyle's blood turned to ice.
"GUN!" he screamed, breaking into a run.
Four people in the front row pulled out weapons—pistols, gleaming under the stage lights.
And they opened fire.
The sound was deafening.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.