Black Panther: Spellbound by Ronald L. Smith

Author:Ronald L. Smith [Smith, Ronald L.]
Language: spa
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: 2022
Published: 2021-09-24T00:00:00+00:00

The trio stayed close to home the next day. A knot of worry formed in T’Challa’s stomach and tightened throughout the afternoon. Tonight, they were going to click the link for Achebe’s talk. Is it foolish to do so? T’Challa wondered. Is it all some sort of trap? And how do I play into all of it?

Young Prince. We will meet where the sand runs like blood.

There were a few things T’Challa knew at this point. One was that Bob—Achebe—was appearing in the same places T’Challa was. Two—he had a connection to Wakanda, being from a neighboring country. And three—somehow, he was showing up in his dreams. It was clear: Achebe was interested in him, and T’Challa was determined to find out why.

After a quick dinner—another healthy one, to Zeke’s chagrin—the trio headed downstairs. It seemed to T’Challa that his vacation was now limited to Base Camp, eating, and sleep.

Zeke picked up a bag of chips and tore into them. Sheila stared at him, shocked. “We just had dinner, Zeke!”

Zeke withdrew his hand from the bag and looked up, crumbs around his mouth. “I need to counteract all that healthy stuff!”

T’Challa suppressed a grin, although it took a little effort.

The time seemed to creep by in seconds as they waited for 8:00 p.m. T’Challa stared around the room, not focusing on anything in particular. He took a sudden interest in an old poster on the wall, undoubtedly left by Miss Rose’s sons, which showed a black leopard on a cliff, ready to pounce. T’Challa stared at the poster. Was he the leopard or the prey below?

Zeke ate his chips and bounced his right leg up and down in a nervous gesture. Sheila’s index finger hovered over the link on her tablet.

“Okay,” T’Challa said. “It’s almost time. Let’s see what this is all about.”

Sheila looked at T’Challa and then Zeke. “Here goes,” she said, and clicked the link.

The three of them waited in hushed anticipation.

After a moment, a web page appeared with a picture of Achebe on a wavy red background.

“‘Your host will be with you shortly,’” Sheila read.

“We should record it,” Zeke suggested. “Just in case we need to study whatever he’s going to say.”

“Good idea, Zeke” Sheila said.

“Here,” T’Challa put in, and hovered his wrist over Sheila’s tablet. The web page rose from her screen in a funnel shape and, somehow, squeezed itself into one of T’Challa’s beads. From there, he tapped the bead once, which made the image reappear on the wall.

“I’ll never get tired of that,” Zeke confessed.

Sheila set her tablet close by and pressed Record.

A burst of white light filled the screen. T’Challa and his friends flinched, raising their hands to cover their eyes.

“What the—?” Zeke cried out.

T’Challa peeked through his fingers. “It’s gone,” he said. “The light.”

“That was weird,” Sheila said.

“You think?” Zeke fired back, blinking furiously.

“I hate that phrase,” Sheila declared. “Ya think? It’s like an insult or something. Ugh.”

“Shhh!” T’Challa whisper-shouted.

The white light, now dim, revealed Achebe sitting at a desk. The red background was revealed to be a curtain, rippling slowly as if stirred by a breeze.

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