by Becky Norman
Lynta struggled to her feet, leaning against him for a moment to regain her balance then they headed off towards the car.
**********
Lori noticed the cats first on the walk back – they had joined up with Noel and Lynta about a block from the accident, and their feline friends were soon to follow. Tuft was demonstrably agitated, circling the group then pacing ahead, jogging back and once again trying to round up the humans, Border collie-style. Shadow, Mist and Sand had also appeared on the walk back, each clinging tightly to their person and bumping a hand occasionally with their flat, broad heads.
“What’s up, do you think?” she asked, gesturing to the worried Tuft who had once again jogged ahead several paces.
Noel shook his head, watching the cats in bafflement. “Everyone’s on edge tonight; I wonder if it’s just the accident.”
“Or the jaguar’s visit,” Jeret mumbled.
“Tuft, what’s wrong?” Lori called to her. “Why you?”
She looked across at Lynta who was still leaning against Noel as they walked.
Noel glanced at the Senegalese’s face, as well, checking to make sure she was still with them – hadn’t slipped back into a trance – but she seemed lucid. “Maybe she just knows Lynta’s tired...and more vulnerable,” he hypothesized.
The gang of eight continued to shuffle along, keeping a wary eye on the building doorways and alleys around them for ambush from the media. The noise of the accident scene had faded away as they neared the car and the ghostly red glow from the emergency vehicles grew dimmer.
Lori would have breathed a sigh of relief to be away from the tragedy, but the cats were still making her uneasy. She wanted nothing more than for this evening to be over and yet she knew it hadn’t even begun – Noel still wanted to try and speak to B’alam, even if his seminar was clearly finished. She sighed and hung her head in exhaustion, catching sight of a penny near the gutter as she did so.
Bending over to pick it up undoubtedly saved her life.
She felt a rush of wind pass over her back and saw Mist launch herself out of the corner of her eye. The snow leopard cleared 20 feet with one bound, barrelling into Lori and knocking her off her feet, snarling and spitting at something to Lori’s left.
“Hey!” she protested. “What-?”
But she was interrupted by a sharp scream from Lynta and several deep grunts from Jeret and Noel as they struggled with some amorphous shape in the darkness. Lori spun around from her sitting position, paralyzed with uncertainty. She tried to make out what it was and how she could help but couldn’t see anything tangible. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she peered into the darkness, trying to make out the shapes that were fighting in a battle to the death nearby.
She had gotten to her knees when Shadow and Sand joined the fray, deep vicious snarls punctuating their participation in the struggle. Mist came to stand in front of her, protecting and blocking at the same time, but Lori gently pushed her away with her knee.
“I have to help,” she explained when the cat looked up at her.
Lynta screamed again and Lori looked wildly around for something to use as a weapon. There was nothing – a fire hydrant, street signs, a newspaper kiosk were all that were nearby. She could hear the two men and their cats locked with something, breathing heavily as they sought to contain whatever was attacking Lynta and as they spun around, seeking to gain a hold, Lori saw a telltale glimpse of long ears and eyes surrounded by a white ring in the light from the streetlamps.
Iftakar.
Lori gasped and without conscious thought, headed towards the alley he had come from. Mist was right next to her, leaping in effortless strides alongside. She slid to a halt in front of a dumpster there and dived in, gritting her teeth and trying to breathe through her mouth to avoid the stench. Tossing things out of her way, she burrowed deeper into the trash, sobbing with the effort and fear of what might be going on behind her in the street.
She crowed in relief when her fingers closed around a glass beer bottle and she yanked it hastily loose from the other boxes and bags on top of it. Kicking herself free of the dumpster, she sprinted back towards the main street, Mist still running alongside – her thoughts, pulse and breath all speeding faster than her feet could carry her.
She came back to the main road, skidding to a stop as she assessed the situation.
It was Iftakar – she could see him plainly now. He had Lynta in a vicious grip, a long, thick, evil-looking blade pressed against her throat. Even the cloth of her hijab would be no protection against such a weapon. Jeret and Noel were standing nearby, arms raised in evidence of their defencelessness, gasping for air as they tried to regain control of the situation. But everyone there – even the cats – knew who had the control.
“Iftakar, stop,” Noel panted. “You’ll regret this. You will. You’re just adding to your struggle. You thought you felt hopeless before?” he challenged. “If you kill her, you’ll only put yourself into a deeper hell.”
Iftakar made a sound half-way between a sob and a laugh. “Do you think I care anymore?” he asked, sliding the knife gently across the material at Lynta’s throat. “Do you think I care?” he bellowed again.
“Yes. I do,” Noel said. “I know who you are, Iftakar.”
The East Indian laughed maniacally. “You don’t know me at all. And she...is going to die,” he added, looking at the paralyzed, trembling woman in his grip.
Jeret took a step towards them and Lori saw Lynta’s eyes grow wide in panic as Iftakar swung her in front of him as a shield. “You kill her,” Jeret threatened softly, “and you’ll join her before you get the knife free of her flesh.”
Iftakar shook his head sadly. “You’d be doing me a favour,” he answered bleakly, tipping the knife as though to puncture Lynta’s windpipe.
Lynta sobbed in a fatalistic way when she felt the knife cut through the fabric and the sound was enough to spur Lori into action.
“No!” she yelled and took a firm grip on the beer bottle in her hand then stepped towards the corner of the nearest building and smashed it as hard as she could. She wasn’t sure what she meant to do with it, but the jagged edges of the broken bottle looked better than nothing at all.
The noise of the breaking glass seemed deafening on the deserted street. Noel and Jeret turned to look at her in surprise...and so did Iftakar.
The temporary distraction was all Tuft needed. As the man jerked his attention away from Lynta, the cat gathered its powerful hindquarters and launched itself directly at Iftakar’s face. He fell back, screaming, as the weight of the lynx landed full on his chest; the knife dropped, forgotten at his feet, and his hold on Lynta was broken.
Jeret grabbed the hostage and pulled her away as Lori stood stunned, watching the lynx sink its claws deep into the side of Iftakar’s face.
He gave another high, piercing scream as the razors sank in, piercing his temples and pulling down to leave deep, angry furrows along his jaw line and cheeks.
“Tuft!” Noel shouted in alarm as the cat continued to maul the East Indian, oblivious to everything around her. “Tuft!” he shouted again.
The feline lifted a drooling, bloodstained head towards Noel and blinked in anger, ears flat to her skull.
“Enough,” Noel said firmly. “She’s safe.”
He walked cautiously towards the big cat, who was loathe getting off her prey, and crouched down nearby so that he was eye-to-eye with her.
“Go to Lynta,” he said softly, reaching fingers to Iftakar’s neck, searching for a pulse as he pressed against the blood-stained skin.
Tuft slowly slid off the human and glided away to Lynta and Jeret, looking back now and then as she went to ensure the danger was past.
Lori stumbled forward – the bottle still clutched in her unresponsive fingers – and knelt down next to Noel.
“Is he dead?” she asked, looking at the prone, bleeding form in front of her. Angry
red slashes decorated Iftakar’s face but he appeared to be breathing.
Noel shook his head. “No, but near enough.”
He went through Iftakar’s pockets and removed a cell phone he found there. Flipping it open, he began dialling.
“What are you doing?” Lori asked, astounded.
“Calling 911,” Noel answered. “We’ve got to give him a chance.”
“Do we?” she asked, surprised herself at how cold her voice sounded.
Noel lifted his head to study her face and raised an eyebrow at her in question.
“Yes,” he answered definitively, “we do.”
After speaking to dispatch, giving the location of Iftakar and explaining the injuries, Noel rubbed the phone across his thigh and placed it on Iftakar’s chest with his hand tucked up inside his sleeve.
Lori was still squatting on the other side of Iftakar’s body, watching Noel in bemusement.
“Best get rid of that bottle,” Noel murmured, jerking his head at Lori’s makeshift weapon. “Wipe your fingerprints off it and let’s get out of here.”
As they sank into the vehicle a few moments later, and Jeret put the car in drive, the last sight Lori had was of Iftakar’s body, no more than a humped shape near the gutter, with a caracal standing off to the side.
**********
They were extremely late getting to the auditorium. Weaving around behind the scene of the accident and coming up on a side street, Jeret eventually pulled up alongside the back of the building and raised an eyebrow towards Noel.
“Do you think he’s still in there?” he asked.
Noel looked towards the edifice, where a single light was shining, and nodded. “He’s there.”
The group left the vehicle with trepidation and headed to the back stage door. Before they reached it, it opened from the inside and a lean, athletic young man greeted them.
“He’s been waiting,” the man said with a heavy Mexican accent. “Follow me.”
Lori gave Noel a look of fear and slid closer to him, entwining her fingers with his. She felt suddenly like a very small pawn on a very large chessboard. He had been waiting for them? How did he even know who they were?
They walked through dimly-lit hallways, passing various pieces of lighting equipment and staging before coming to another corridor, bathed in light, with a dressing room door cracked open enough for Lori to get a glimpse of the figure within.
She knew immediately that it was B’alam – his face was weathered, hard; like the grains of an ancient piece of driftwood – but the flamboyant clothes he wore were indicative of his Mayan ancestry. The jeans he wore were covered by a brilliant red-and-yellow poncho and he had the most curious headpiece adorning his crown she had ever seen: a combination of feathers, leather strips, porcupine quills and scraps of bright blue cloth stood up in array above his scalp.
Their escort ushered them into the room and by instinct, the rest of the group hung back, allowing Noel to come forward and make the introductions. But clearly, introductions weren’t necessary.
“Ah, Nahuel,” the Mayan said, coming forward with both hands extended to greet him.
Noel cocked an eyebrow, gave a slight nod of the head. “You know me?” he asked, but without surprise.
B’alam laughed – a dry, whispery sound like leaves brushing against branches. “I recognize you from our shared dreams,” he confirmed as though it were obvious.
Lori’s eyes were riveted on the small man in front of them. Despite his diminutive stature – she stood a good 4” taller than he – his sheer presence commanded everyone’s attention. She had felt the same sense of awe when first meeting Noel, she realized, but this was amplified a hundred times with the man in the room with them.
“So you are the jaguar,” Noel said reflectively.
“Oh, yes,” B’alam answered. And then a curious thing began to happen. As Lori watched, his face began to alter shape – grew flatter, broader – and a distinct gold fuzz began to form along the lines of his jaw. When his eyes also began to slant – drooping down on the inside and tipping up on the ends, rather than a human’s level stare – she gasped along with the others. He was changing into a jaguar before their eyes!
He seemed to realize how the change was frightening them, though, and shifted immediately back to his human form. Lori felt all the hairs on her neck and arms ripple in fright, her skin popping out in gooseflesh with the knowledge that he could change into the cat they had recognized in their dreams.
B’alam had released Noel’s hand and was now stepping towards Lynta, concern on his face.
“How are you, my dear?” he asked, reaching out his weathered hands to cup her chin.
Lynta licked her lips, swallowing reflexively. “I am alright,” she answered.
“An unfortunate end to the evening after such a night’s work!” B’alam commented. “You did well...touched many lives tonight.”
Lynta blinked. “You know about that?”
B’alam gave her a toothy grin. “Of course.” He looked at all of them in turn, then, smiling at each with deep affection. “You are all in your infancy...but you will learn quickly now. You have known for some time, I think, what was going on but you needed confirmation. Well, tonight...you have it.”
“So that’s not the end of it – what happened with Iftakar?” Jeret asked.
B’alam turned to him with a laugh. “Oh, my friend,” he chuckled, clasping his hands together. “It is just the beginning.”
His face began to slide again, changing into the face of the jaguar, yet his voice remained steady as he talked. “You know by now of your connection to the cats – you have met your partners.”
He extended a human arm towards the floor and Lori noticed that Mist and the others had suddenly appeared in the room, standing at the back, their tails twitching now and then in lazy confidence.
“They are here to help you on this most remarkable journey you will take,” B’alam continued. “Use them. Rely on them. They will not let you down.”
His face resumed the look of a Mayan and he turned to Jeret and Lynta. “You have special qualities, you two. Reviving those who are hovering at the threshold of death is a privilege and a tremendous responsibility...but do not be afraid of it. Remember that in the end you are only presenting a choice. It is always – always – up to the individual will whether they take the path you present on the left...or the path you present on the right.”
B’alam turned and gave Noel a piercing look. “You would be best to remember that yourself, Nahuel. You cannot save them all. Or rather, you cannot not save them all – their ultimate protection is guaranteed.”
Noel nodded silently, but Lori felt as though the Mayan was speaking in his native tongue for all she could understand of the conversation. She remained close to Noel, seeking his protection from this force that seemed bigger than life, wrapped in a human form. She let out a small sigh of relief when B’alam again turned his attention to Lynta and Jeret.
“Now listen,” he cautioned them, “birth is always a messy business – full of blood and tears; laughter and relief, as well – do not expect the future to be what you call pretty.”
“Birth?” Jeret questioned. “I thought we were just talking about death.”
“They are one and the same,” B’alam answered. “Where one ends, another begins. It is the same action – it is the changing of form. That is all.” He shrugged his shoulders, dismissing it.
The Mayan moved closer to Lori, and leaned against a series of crates stacked against the wall, his features again distorting into the skull of a jaguar. “You humans are so insistent on trying to keep things contained...trying to create barriers and keep life safely tucked into the lines you’ve drawn.”
He suddenly reached out and ran a hand down Lori’s arm, his fingernails lightly scraping against her skin. She gasped in surprise and had to struggle not to pull away. His hand felt warm and dry – just li
ke his voice. “But do you think your life is contained in this shell? Even as we stand here, your energy is moving back and forth through this barrier we call skin. Do you feel the heat coming off of Nahuel, Lori?” he asked with a blend of amusement and challenge.
She felt Noel squeeze her hand and she nodded, her eyes transfixed on the jaguar face that was speaking to her. By this point, she was past even wondering how he knew her name.
“It is the same with you. Right now your heart is beating with a series of electrical charges; your lungs are feeding your blood and converting oxygen into carbon dioxide. What an amazing machine you are! You are vapour and liquid and solid matter and electricity, vibrating right in front of me. How beautiful you are!”
He pushed off of the crates and came to cup Lori’s face in his hands, as well. She froze, transfixed by his nearness and the powerful waves of...life...that engulfed her.
“And can you understand how easy it is to manipulate this machine? To change it from one form to another?”
B’alam looked deeply into her eyes, piercing her soul with his jaguar gaze, and shook his head.
“No,” he said softly. “You do not understand yet. But you will, little shapeshifter – you will.”
Lori stared at him silently, confusion and fear evident on her face.
“Do not worry so much,” B’alam chided her gently. “Nothing is taken away from you – nothing can be taken away. We are just moving through energy, changing as we go.”
His appearance snapped back to that of a Mayan instantly, but Lori caught the flick of a jaguar’s tail – its black tip curling around B’alam’s hip – and she watched it in fascination for a moment before lifting her gaze back to Noel and their host.
“So. You need confirmation, do you?” B’alam asked, abruptly releasing Lori and moving to the center of the room, getting down to business. “Alright, then.”
He pointed at Jeret and Lynta. “Yes, you are both going to be opening doorways for people in the days to come. There are many pathways – there are an infinite amount of pathways – that can be chosen. You are here to reveal them to those who request it. You are here to help. But do not condemn the choices made after, for you know not what that soul desires. Illuminate, my darlings. Illuminate.”