Chapter 14 Snake in Suit
The invitation came through a different set of messengers this time.
Not the polished young men in expensive suits, but a quiet phone call from an unknown number the morning after the crowd chased him. The voice on the other end was smooth, cultured, and dangerous.
“Brother Manny, Pastor Victor Adeyemi wants to see you. Privately. No cameras. No crowd. A car will come for you at 8p.m. sharp. It is in your best interest to come.”
Manny almost refused. But the Voice stirred, curious and hungry.
Go. Look upon the rot up close.
Adaora had slipped away before dawn with a promise to check on Chinedu as manny spent the day pacing his room, wrapping fresh cloth around his chest to hide the new glowing cracks that now spread like a burning map across his torso. They hurt less when he kept moving, but the heat never left.
The same clean white SUV arrived exactly on time. This time no driver small talk. Just tinted windows and the low hum of expensive AC as they left the narrow streets of Ajegunle for the cleaner parts of the city.
They drove to a private residence behind high gates in Lekki. Not the massive church. A sleek modern mansion with manicured lawns and security men who looked like they could kill without blinking. Pastor Victor waited in a spacious study lined with books he probably never read and giant portraits of himself shaking hands with politicians.
He wore a casual white linen agbada this time, still dripping with wealth. The smile was the same perfect one from the stage.
“Brother Manny! Sit, sit. No need for formalities tonight.”
Manny sat on the edge of a leather chair, every muscle tight. The moment Pastor Victor leaned forward to pour him a glass of cold water, the black veins appeared in full force. They were everywhere. Thick, pulsing cords crawling under the pastor’s skin neck, face, hands, disappearing under the collar but clearly spreading across his entire chest and arms. It was worse than before. The man looked like a corpse animated by pure corruption.
Manny fought the bile rising in his throat.
Pastor Victor noticed the way Manny stared. His smile didn’t waver.
“You see them, don’t you?” the pastor said calmly, settling back into his chair. “The black veins. I suspected as much after our handshake at the crusade. You have the real thing. The Godspark.”
Manny froze. “How you know that name?”
Victor chuckled, a low, oily sound. “I have been in this business long enough. Fake prophets, real prophets, juju men, politicians… I know all the games. For years I have been manufacturing my own ‘sparks.’ Special oil from India mixed with certain herbs and a little electricity under the stage. People fall, people shout, offerings flow. But you…” He pointed a manicured finger. “Yours is authentic. Dangerous. And very, very marketable.”
He slid an envelope across the polished table. Thick. Manny didn’t touch it.
“Ten million naira inside. Just for starters. Partner with me. We build something big. You perform real miracles on my stage. I handle the branding, the TV, the international connections. We split the offerings seventy-thirty. My favor, your fire. Think of it thousands saved, healed, delivered. And you get to live like a king instead of hiding in that Ajegunle rat hole while your body tears itself apart.”
Manny’s scars burned hotter. The Voice roared with fury.
He dares mock the fire. Expose him. Burn this serpent where he sits.
The glowing cracks beneath Manny’s shirt flared bright enough that Victor’s eyes widened slightly.
“I see the power is fighting you,” the pastor continued, still smiling but with steel underneath now. “That’s why you need me. I can help you control it. Channel it. Or…” He leaned forward, voice dropping. “I can make life very difficult for you. Those videos are already making powerful people nervous. One word from me and the EFCC, the police, even some native doctors I know will come looking for the ‘dangerous cultist’ disturbing the peace. Your friend Chinedu? The girl Adaora? Even that old bone man, Baba Tunde… accidents happen every day in Lagos.”
It was the first open threat. Delivered with the same warm smile he used on stage.
Manny stood slowly. His fists clenched, and for a second the room lit up with white-gold light leaking from his collar and sleeves. The black veins on Pastor Victor’s body pulsed faster, as if excited by the power in the room.
“You think this is something you can buy or control?” Manny said, voice low and shaking. “You covered head to toe in rot. I see every lie, every stolen offering, every girl you destroyed in your office, every ritual you did to keep this empire. The fire wants to judge you right now.”
Pastor Victor’s smile finally slipped for a moment. Fear flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something colder. Calculation.
“Then judge me,” he whispered, spreading his arms. “Or join me. Your choice, Emmanuel. But know this once the big men in Abuja start paying attention, even your Godspark may not save you from what’s coming.”
Manny turned and walked out without taking the envelope. The security men didn’t stop him. But as he climbed back into the SUV, he felt the pastor’s eyes on his back like a blade.
The Voice was screaming for blood.
And deep down, Manny knew the snake had already bitten. The partnership wasn’t really optional anymore.
War had been declared.
