Leopard's Kin

by Becky Norman

  “Thank you for your help,” she whispered. “I never could have gotten through this without the three of you.”

  She paused then turned to look at Noel.

  “Any more word on Iftakar?”

  He shook his head. “The last I heard, he threw a temper tantrum of epic proportions when he heard you’d been released and stormed out of the Immigration office. They’re now investigating him to see why he was so bent on bringing you down.”

  “But watch yourself in the meantime, Lynta,” Jeret cautioned. “I don’t like the fact that he’s so angry, directing that anger at you specifically, and is wandering at large. Just be careful.”

  Lynta smiled secretly. “I’m not worried. Tuft has been my non-stop companion since this all started,” she said pointing in the corner where the lynx rested with alert eyes and ears. “She won’t let anything get through.”

  **********

  The dream, for Noel, left him as rigid as a marble statue in his twin-sized bed. He could scarcely breathe – was afraid to – in certainty that to draw breath would be to draw attention, as well.

  He was walking down the streets of an ancient town - cobbles turned his ankles now and then and the dust was prevalent on his robes and on his tongue. He passed by shop fronts and residences – mere abodes carved out of the clay – where these hard-working people rested a weary head for a few, brief hours before toiling anew in the hot sun.

  The men were out, he noticed. All of them. The husbands, fathers, protectors of their families, standing in front of their doorways with bowls of some liquid. Noel realized with a shock as he drew closer that the bowl was full of blood.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, mystified.

  An old man, with more teeth missing than what were visible in his jaw, turned to look at him, his watery eyes rheumy and lacking in hope. “Protecting ourselves,” he said ominously. “Mark your door so he doesn’t enter.”

  With that he pulled a brush, thick with blood and dripping excess into the dust, from the bowl and slathered a symbol across the lintel of the door. The blood oozed down, following the natural contours of the wood grain, but a deep dark stain remained.

  The old man turned back to Noel upon completion of his task. “Best you do the same,” he said.

  Noel walked on. He passed out of the village, following a road that meandered alongside a wandering stream. The dust and clay eventually gave way to tenacious scraps of grass and brush, building to thicker pastures then larger trees and eventually to a forest heavily coated with lichen and draped with moss. With each step Noel took, the light faded incrementally until by the time he reached the forest, he could barely see the dusk through the trees. When he could go no further because of the density of the woods, he stopped.

  It seemed as though the forest had closed around him now, blocking out any entrance or exit he might have used. It was nothing but trees; he couldn’t reach out a hand without touching one. A mild wave of claustrophobia passed over him. It was deathly silent. Not a bird, not an insect made a sound – there wasn’t even a passing breeze to ruffle the leaves. All Noel could hear was the sound of his own heart, his own breaths.

  And then there was something else breathing near him with a heavy, guttural panting. All the hairs stood up on Noel’s neck and he held perfectly still. A hunter, come to kill him. He knew with certainty that this was no fleeing animal – this was the predator. The breathing seemed to come from all around him; there was no hope in identifying the source of the sound.

  Then suddenly, like a streak of heat lightning, a large cat bounded away in front of him, just out of reach. Then another came off to his right, and a third blazed like a shooting star across to his left until it faded out of sight. The woods seemed to be filled with them; a herd of cats, if such a thing existed, and Noel watched them – ten, fifteen, possibly twenty – darting through the trees and across the forest floor, light as skimming stones.

  Noel looked off into the distance, where a sudden beam of light had appeared and he gasped in shock. They were all jaguars and there were hundreds of them. They seemed to be gathering on a hillside in the distance, getting their bearings, debating which way to go next. And then the King Jaguar was standing next to Noel – the same one they had all dreamt of before. Shadow was suddenly beside him; he could feel his fingertips trailing in the soft, black fur.

  The King Jaguar looked at the two of them, panting softly as he regained his breath.

  “What do I do?” Noel asked. “I don’t think I can help him.”

  The jaguar tilted his head, taking in what Noel said, thinking about how to answer. “No,” he confirmed, “it is past the point of your help. We will handle it.”

  The swarthy, muscular animal took a step toward him and his black panther. “Remind the others,” he said. “They cannot guard their thoughts – cannot direct them – as you are able. And we will take no prisoners. Any who live from hatred, greed, dishonesty...they are ours.”

  Noel awoke to the sound of the jaguars snarling on the hunt.

  Chapter 25

  The January thaw that year came right on schedule, tempting and teasing the inhabitants of Ontario with the promises of spring. The snow had almost disappeared, leaving behind a sour, haggard-looking grass and revealing all the bits of trash that had been dumped and disguised by December’s snow. It was Saturday and Lori had completed all the homework she’d been assigned: start a journal for Nature Lit, answer the questions at the back of chapter 5 for Canadian History and create a preliminary spreadsheet/chart combination for Business Math. There was no reason why she couldn’t saddle up Piper and go for a leisurely ride in the warmer temperatures so that’s exactly what she did.

  Her little bay was “fresh on the bit” despite the exercise she did with him in the arena during the week. He was just as anxious as she was to be out and moving in the fresh air, actually covering distances instead of just circling in endless monotony around the arena. Lori did a few test stops with him first to ensure he was listening to her and she could slow him down, and then she turned down their quiet dirt road and let him stretch out and run for a mile or so. It felt wonderful.

  They rode for several hours and after untacking him and brushing him down, she even let him “graze” for awhile in the backyard. She doubted the grass was even palatable, but Piper was the type of horse who derived a tremendous peace from simply going through the motions of step-root around-rip-chew. The actions themselves seemed to calm him down and make everything right with the world.

  It was therefore quite late in the afternoon before Lori got back to the house and saw the light on her phone flashing. She checked her messages and hummed softly to herself – for just a moment – when she heard Noel’s mellifluous voice.

  “Lori, something of a rather urgent nature has come up. If it’s possible, could you please call me back and let me know if you can make it to Jeret’s tomorrow afternoon?”

  **********

  “I’ve had another dream about the jaguar,” Noel began. “Or to be precise, I’ve dreamt about a hundred of them.”

  Lori looked at him, riveted, and heard Lynta gasp beside her on the couch. Jeret was the only one who didn’t seem surprised, no doubt because he’d heard it before.

  Lynta was here on special permission from the government – still being watched for signs of terrorist behaviour or anything even remotely suspicious – and Lori had only been able to come with Noel’s assurance that they wouldn’t be more than a couple of hours. She had to get back and work with the horses yet, but clearly this was important to Noel.

  “Something is going to happen soon,” Noel continued. “I dreamt of an entire army of jaguars...and they were hunting souls.”

  “What?” Lori asked, startled.

  Noel turned his coal-black eyes on her and nodded.

  “They are looking for those filled with ‘hatred, greed and dishonesty’ our so-called friend the hea
d jaguar told me. It’s almost as if they’re reading our thoughts and eliminating those people whose thoughts aren’t...well, in line with theirs.”

  “Eliminating?” Lynta inquired. “What do you mean?”

  Noel shrugged, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It was all happening in my dream state...but it felt like they were hunting to kill.”

  Lori bit her lip, her heart picking up pace.

  Noel gave her a small smile of reassurance. “It will be alright,” he said softly, almost to her alone.

  Then he included Jeret and Lynta in his sweeping gaze around the room. “But we have to learn to control our thoughts – to be conscious – all the time. The jaguars won’t differentiate, you see. They are attracted to any who have negative thoughts.”

  “Well, I for one kind of like this idea,” Jeret said with a wink. “John Lennon had it right all along – instant karma is going to get them.”

  The girls laughed nervously, but Noel turned on his roommate, deadly serious. “Be very careful, Jeret,” he warned. “Thoughts of revenge and wanting to mete out punishment for wrongs done to you are another form of hatred.”

  Noel sat down abruptly on the makeshift coffee table, so that he was eye-level with Lynta and Lori. “We are all one,” he said distinctly, carefully. “You must understand the essence of that, its very core.... God, Allah, the Supreme Being, the Great Creator...we are all just bits and pieces of that Higher Source. We are all candles of the sun; we are all atoms making up this Great Matter.”

  Noel turned to each of them in turn, the intensity of his gaze frightening.

  “When you look at Iftakar, Lynta, you should see yourself. The airline administrators who ignored the safety reports and caused Cody’s death are creations of God, Lori. And Jeret, that boss at the zoo you tangle with and wish would get fired...he is an angel sent to you from the Heavens. If all of you are to escape the jaguars’ hunt, then you must – you must – come to realize this.”

  Noel scanned the group again, clenching his hands together as though he were pleading with them. Lori could scarcely breathe.

  “All that we wish on another comes back to us ten-fold. We spew this anger – this venom – at one another because we feel threatened or hurt, but soon the air we breathe is filled with nothing but poison. No wonder our world is as it is, when this invisible pollution clogs our senses, our minds, our hearts!”

  Noel’s voice cracked with his impassioned words and he broke off, shaking his head, trying to regain his composure.

  Lori looked first at Jeret who, chagrined, had his head down, not making eye contact with anyone. Lynta seemed to be speechless herself and stared blankly at Lori. It was up to her, then, to get clarification.

  “But Noel,” she began timidly, “what are the jaguars doing, if it’s not born out of their own revenge and hatred? You say we should choose love and not fear, but this idea of cats swallowing our souls has me petrified. Why are they threatening us like this?”

  Noel gave her a gentle look, back in control of his emotions again. “They are not doing this out of revenge or hatred, Lori. They are simply...cleaning up...a rather large mess we all have made. Think of it as an oil spill,” he added. “The first thing you must do is contain the leak, stop the contamination. Then you begin the clean-up.”

  He touched Jeret and Lynta lightly, almost in blessing, then reached out and squeezed Lori’s knee. She felt instantly comforted.

  “The jaguars are here, I think, to help, though it might not appear that way to some. Death is not a permanent state – it is just a time of transition. It is just a change. And all of us have been saying there is a change coming. I don’t mean we’re all going to die, but that we are going to be altered in some fundamental way. Some will need help with this change. Others can do it on their own. I think all of you are capable of this transition without their help. But you must stay mindful.”

  An image of shadowy cats racing through the night - attacking with razor-sharp teeth and claws - leapt into Lori’s mind and she shuddered under Noel’s hand.

  **********

  Noel went through instruction with the group on how to meditate, how to raise thoughts to higher levels, and helped them to create “I am” statements that they could say throughout the day to maintain those levels. These “I am” statements were more global in scope: things like, “I am a source of love and light and tolerance,” “I am a part of a whole that includes every other living thing I come in contact with,” “I am special, along with all others who cross my path.”

  He hoped it was enough, felt 98% sure that it was.

  He had taken to watching the news. A mysterious plague was sweeping through the prison system: hardened criminals, who had been deemed hopeless for rehabilitation, were dying in their sleep throughout the world. Accusations were running rampant. Was this some agreed-upon plot by some unknown organization? Was the idea to kill all the criminals and get them off government assistance? It was more than coincidence that this was happening and yet there was no proof that it was homicide.

  Noel and Jeret were glued to the TV set, listening to the reporter speak of no visible causes of death – no wounds, no diseases, no poison in the bloodstream. They were simply dying in their sleep, one by one, and it was anybody’s guess as to who would be next.

  Jeret turned off the TV when the reporter went onto another subject, gingerly setting the remote on their makeshift coffee table as though it might contain nitro glycerine. The silence was thick in the room, but moving as though it had been disturbed by an unseen creature’s breath.

  Noel licked his lips, dimly conscious of a clock ticking in the hallway.

  “It’s the jaguars, isn’t it?” Jeret finally asked quietly.

  Noel nodded reflexively. “I believe so.”

  Another pause, as Jeret contemplated it all. “So what you said was true – they’re going after the ones who can’t change on their own.”

  Noel turned to look at his friend. “I think so. But that doesn’t mean those left behind are pure of heart...or will know instinctively how to create a better life for themselves...or how to abide by the golden rule. There’s still a lot of work to do, Jeret. A lot of work.”

  **********

  The criminals kept dying, randomly, quietly, and Noel asked Jeret to keep an eye out for who the head jaguar might be. He felt compelled to speak to the man and get more direction on what was coming, but with the criminal element being exterminated on a global scale, it was difficult to say where the source was located.

  Just a few days later, however, Jeret dropped something in his lap as he was re-reading key passages of the Tecumseh biography on his bed.

  “What’s this?” he inquired, picking up the folded piece of paper, decorated with Mayan symbols and other Native art.

  “It’s your jaguar,” Jeret stated bluntly. Then, doubting himself amended it with an “I think.”

  Noel unfolded the paper and read the announcement. B’alam – world-famous psychic and fortune-teller, descendent of the great Mayan race, it announced, is on a world tour. Known for his amazingly accurate predictions, based on the Mayan calendar and their mythology, B’alam was doing public readings of audience members “as the spirit moved him.” He was holding a seminar at the University of Toronto this Saturday and tickets were selling fast. Don’t miss out! the brochure warned, this is something your soul can’t afford to miss!

  Noel snorted and cocked an eyebrow at Jeret. “A little over the top, wouldn’t you say?”

  Jeret grinned. “Yeah. But not necessarily untrue for all that. He’s definitely a showman – he’s causing quite the stir wherever he goes. And the people at the zoo are saying certain religious groups here in town have already started protesting his arrival.”

  Noel grinned back at his roommate. “Then we should go. Do you want to call the ladies or shall I?”

  **********

  Confirmation of the
million dollars being deposited into her account came to Lori the day before the B’alam presentation in Toronto. Her mother, of course, immediately gave her the phone number of a reliable financial advisor who would help her diversify her portfolio and strictly forbade her to do anything with the money until she had done some research.

  “I know, Mum,” she said into the phone, suppressing a sigh but rolling her eyes theatrically to nobody. “You’ve taught me well – I’m not going to do anything hasty with it.”

  “Well, make sure you don’t. I’ve heard stories where people got started on spending sprees, thinking they’d just buy a few thousand dollars’ worth of things...and then suddenly they’re looking around them and everything’s gone.”

  “Don’t worry, Mum,” Lori said again, more forcefully. “Do you think I’m going to go out and buy a racehorse with it?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it past you,” her mother retorted, but there was a smile in her voice. “I just want to make sure you invest it wisely, Lori. If you do, you can pay for your education, train horses at your leisure, and live on your farm forever without ever having to look for paid work again.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Mother – that really does. I’ll take your advisor’s suggestions and research things thoroughly before I decide. There’s no great hurry, after all – I managed to get enough money together from my demos and training last year to pay for my school tuition and all the other monthly expenses are under control so I can take my time.”

  “And just be careful who you start telling about this money – you don’t want to open yourself up to con artists, fraudsters and hackers who might try to get their hands on it. Have you told many people?”

  “No, just Shannon and Noel, I think. I don’t know if Rita told anyone that would know me...but I suppose if people really want to go digging, they could find out. The results of the settlement are mentioned in a few different articles I’ve seen.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen them, too,” Lori’s mom agreed. “But I haven’t seen any mention of your name specifically. How did Noel react?”

  Lori’s mother tried to slide the question in unobtrusively, but Lori knew her far too well.

  “Don’t start, Mum.”