by Amber Hart
My knife rests against his neck, just barely nicking the skin. Blood trickles down, and I am almost caught off guard when Mattius laughs.
“You have not changed since your banishment, I see,” Mattius says. “Still quick as a snake.”
“You should not have come here,” I warn. “You know I cannot allow you to return to the compound alive. I cannot let you alert them to our whereabouts, Mattius.”
“I could have hit you with the bullet,” Mattius says. “But I am not here to hurt you. Will you put the knife down?”
He is not lying about his aim. I am the strongest tracker there is. Clovis is the best at camouflage of all types. And Mattius is an excellent marksman. But though I know he is telling the truth about his aim, I am doubtful of his motive.
“I do not believe you,” I growl. “So let’s hear it, Mattius. What have you come for?”
“I don’t plan to ever return to the compound, Jospin.”
I shake my head. I don’t believe him. Mattius tries to take a step back, to ease the pressure of my knife, but he does not get far before he feels the press of the blade Clovis holds at his back.
“Hello, brother,” Mattius says, though he can’t see Clovis standing directly behind him. His smile widens. “Nice of you to join us. Would you kindly ask Jospin to put away his weapon? You know me better than anyone. I am obviously not here for your blood or it would have been spilled already. I want to talk.”
“You cannot be trusted,” Clovis says. “Especially with the way you’ve been acting lately—getting closer to Mr. Tondjii and treating Raven the way you did.”
“And lurking about the habitat, retrieving a package, most likely from the spy,” I add. “Don’t think I didn’t see you.”
Mattius barks out a laugh. “You’re one to talk. Don’t think I didn’t see you pulling the trigger. Actually, I should thank you. I was going to have to kill François eventually anyway. Your father had just ordered his death when you did me the favor of eliminating him yourself.”
“I did it,” I say through clenched teeth, “because I had no choice. Because people like you and my father put innocents in danger. He was a threat to the habitat and to me.”
“I do not care why you did it,” Mattius says. “Don’t you see? I’m on your side. I do not work for the pack.”
Clovis does not remove his knife, and neither do I.
“I always knew you weren’t the traitor,” Mattius continues. “Funny, though, how you were banished and suddenly Clovis shows up with a habitat worker who was supposedly a spy. She was a beautiful liar, that’s what she was.”
I grit my teeth at the mention of Raven.
“But there was a problem with their story. And with yours,” he says. “I gave Raven a hard time because I wanted to find her angle. I wanted to know what she was hiding. It wasn’t until she stole Mr. Tondjii’s evidence from the warehouse and escaped that I realized what was really happening. And you, Jospin, were the biggest liar of all. You were not the spy.”
“You don’t know that,” I say. I tip my ear to the wind and listen for any others. I hear nothing but the jungle.
“I do know that,” Mattius says. “There’s no way that you could have been a spy for a rival pack.” His voice is heavy with conviction. “Because the spy feeding information to another pack…was me.”
“I don’t believe you,” I repeat. My mind is reeling at his words. Could it be possible?
“Fine,” Mattius says, and makes a move to reach behind his back.
I press the knife more firmly into his throat.
“I only want to remove a folder hidden under my shirt,” Mattius says.
With each word—every time he works his throat to speak, every swallow—the blade draws a little more blood. And finally he is dangerously close to being cut too deeply. He falls silent, waiting for me to back off, but I will not.
“Check him,” I instruct Clovis.
Clovis yanks up his brother’s shirt. Sure enough, there is a folder under it. I wait as Clovis leafs through it. My eyes wander upward and connect with Raven’s. I’m pleased to see that she has her gun leveled at Mattius’s head. She leans forward, and her pale hair falls over the branch. She looks so incredibly beautiful. And deadly.
“What is this?” Clovis gasps, eyes growing wide.
Mattius doesn’t speak, but his stare goes to my dagger, as if to ask me to let him have a say. I ease off slightly.
“That is your evidence,” Mattius says, wincing slightly as blood trickles down his neck. “You are on your way to the city, are you not? You have already lost the papers you stole, thanks to that sham of a Cameroonian official. I had planned to kill him myself, but you beat me to that one too. I’ve been working against Mr. Tondjii for months now. I’ve been feeding another pack times that he would be vulnerable, times he would go into the forest or have less guards at the compound, hoping that somewhere along the way, they would take Mr. Tondjii down. And I’ve been connecting the pieces you left behind. I finally get it. That you have been up to something, Clovis. And that you did not betray the pack, Jospin. What I don’t quite understand is why or how it connects.”
I glance up at Raven again, and this time Mattius follows my stare. He looks at me. Then at Raven.
“We should really get rid of her now,” he says, watching me as he speaks. “She’ll only slow us down.”
“If you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you,” I say.
Mattius grins, as if he finally understands. I realize then that he was testing my reaction.
“So. She is yours,” he says. “It makes sense now.”
Mattius shouldn’t know anything about Raven and me. He shouldn’t even be here. But he has the evidence we need. He is giving us a way to shut down the poaching empire. I cannot help but think there is a catch.
“What do you want out of all this?” I ask.
Mattius doesn’t hesitate to answer. “I want to go with you. We are stronger in bigger numbers. How much evidence do you have?”
I am cautious to tell him the truth.
“Not as much as you,” Clovis answers, throwing me the folder to read.
I lower my knife and look through the documents. They are impressive. Names and contacts, even bank-account numbers.
This is exactly what we need to shut my father down.
“I want,” Mattius continues, “to make it to the city alive. I have already had to kill one poacher trailing me, and I am tired. I need rest, if only for a few hours. I need to know that someone is watching my back.” He suddenly sounds exhausted.
We could tell him no. We could slit his throat and take his evidence and never see him again. But as I look into the eyes of a lifelong friend, I wonder if we should give him a chance. Then I look at Raven, and I wonder if the chance is worth taking.
“What made you decide to do it?”
Clovis has asked the most important question. All this while I’ve been running options through my mind, and none of them make sense. Mattius is part of the pack. He is one of the best.
“Why did you betray them?” Clovis presses.
“Because of our father,” Mattius replies, his voice soft. “I hate him. There is not one part of him that I love.”
I am surprised by his answer, but Clovis doesn’t seem to be.
“What did he do to you?” Clovis finally asks, his voice flinty. “Did he do things to you that you never told me?”
“Yes,” Mattius replies. “Do you remember how I was always sick as a child?”
I do remember. He seemed to catch everything, sometimes lying in bed for days at a time.
“All those sick days,” Mattius continues, “were lies. I wasn’t sick. I was in pain, healing from beatings that Father thought would teach me lessons and make me a stronger man.”
Raven inhales sharply. I suddenly recall the way Mattius used to grunt in pain as we’d sit on his bed and tease him about being a baby. We would tell him to just take some of Mother’s homemade medicine—mostly concocted
from forest herbs—to get better.
Mattius turns to look at Clovis. “You claim to hate Father, but you have no idea how bad it could have been for you.” His eyes are hard. “How bad it actually was for me. Yes, he almost let you die once. He mocked you. But he didn’t beat you repeatedly, like he did me. That was my burden alone.”
Clovis has a terrible, haunted expression on his face. And I am shocked.
“The bruises were never on my face, always somewhere that could be hidden,” Mattius says. “That way, no one would suspect. But Mr. Tondjii found out anyway. Heard it happening one day. And he did nothing. He left Father to his business. He watched me suffer.”
Mattius speaks with determination. He looks back at me, and his expression is deadly calm. I realize then that he has told us the truth about why he is here.
“I tried to find you in the jungle before now,” he continues. “I searched anywhere I thought you might be. The treetops, the densest areas I could find, even by the waterfall. I wanted to explain. I wanted you to know that you can trust me. And I wanted you to know the truth about what happened to me.”
Clovis puts away his knife, and I follow suit.
“Mattius,” Clovis whispers, pain in his voice.
“Mr. Tondjii and our father watched me suffer over and over again,” Mattius says. “Now it’s their turn to suffer.”
Chapter 45
Raven
They must be searching for us. But no matter how long they look, they won’t find us. Because we’ve finally reached the city. We will turn in our evidence, and all that the poachers have built on the blood of innocent animals will be destroyed. I only wish it would bring Dad back, that it would bring back the gorilla lives lost. I hope that what it will actually do is stop more from being killed.
As we walk down the street—Jospin, Clovis, Mattius, and me—it is clear that we have reached safe ground. They will not find us here. Not on the small street that leads to a bigger street that leads to a main road full of people and buildings.
We have walked so far that I’m pretty sure my feet are bleeding—four long days and nights. We’ve pushed our bodies to the max to get here, and the ground is hard and unforgiving.
But we made it.
Occasionally Mattius says something in French to passersby. I do not understand their words when they answer, but they point in various ways, so I assume that he is asking for directions.
The ground splits in places, and the sidewalk has writing on it. The buildings are old and new—run-down ones standing at random between fancier versions of what they could be if they were cleaned up. Eventually we make our way to a yellow building with white crown molding. We pause for a moment outside, preparing ourselves.
Clovis opens the doors and we follow. The walls are brick and the people are nice, offering hellos, but I can’t focus on being friendly, because we are finally here and I’m desperate to see the person who can actually help us. That is, if they decide to help us. I realize we could present our evidence, made so much stronger by the addition of Mattius’s paperwork, and they could still choose not to step in.
We stop at the front desk, where Mattius introduces us and asks to speak with an employee by the name of Mr. Kamdem, who is our connection to the American embassy, the one who has direct contact with them, according to Mattius. A woman in high heels and a ponytail so tight that it pulls at the skin on her forehead walks us to a wooden door. She gives it three soft taps before motioning us through. She shuts the door behind us, leaving us alone with two men, both dressed in suits.
“Hello,” the Cameroonian man says. “I am Mr. Kamdem. And this is Mr. Patterson.”
“Hello,” Clovis replies.
“What can we do for you?” Mr. Patterson—who I think must be an American—asks, eyeing me.
“We have evidence on a powerful gorilla-poaching operation. We need your help to shut them down.” My voice is strong. I am my father’s daughter, after all.
“We are listening,” Mr. Patterson says, looking at the folder in my hand.
I put it on the table and withdraw my gun.
He immediately presses a button on his desk.
“I do not mean to harm you,” I tell him. “But we trusted an official once before, and he destroyed our evidence. We cannot take that risk again.”
Two men rush in, guns drawn.
“Stand down,” Mr. Patterson says. “But stay in the room just in case.”
He doesn’t trust us, which makes sense, so I don’t mind that the others stand guard behind us.
The men take turns looking over the paperwork.
“Where did you say this pack is?” Mr. Patterson asks.
“In the jungle, not far from where Heart for Habitat is,” I reply.
“We’d be willing to show you,” Jospin offers.
“It’s the only way,” I explain. “There are no real roads to follow. There are no directions to give. You could find the habitat right away but not Mr. Tondjii’s compound. Not his warehouse. Not without alerting them to your presence. With our lead, the men can arrive quickly and without warning.”
Mr. Patterson nods. “You have promising evidence here. Do you mind if I make a copy?”
“Only if I go with you,” Mattius says. We cannot risk letting the evidence out of our sight.
“Okay, then,” Mr. Patterson agrees.
While Mr. Patterson and Mattius go to copy our documents, Mr. Kamdem speaks to Clovis in French. I don’t understand, but Jospin translates.
“He’s asking more about the pack,” Jospin whispers into my ear. “He wants to know how we know them, what our part is in all of this. Clovis is explaining that we are close with the tribe. He says he is not willing to tell them more.”
Mr. Patterson and Mattius reenter the room, and the official hands the folder back to me. “I’m interested in helping you,” he says. “Give me some time to forward this to the embassy and gather a task force. Meet me here in two days. If we decide to pursue this, reinforcements will arrive by then.”
“Thank you,” I say.
It is all I can really hope for—that our evidence is enough, that it won’t be necessary for Jospin to turn himself in, and that they will assemble a team. We don’t stand a chance on our own.
—
Mattius stops in different hotels, asking prices and figuring where we can afford to stay. He decides on a pink building with tan double doors and an entryway that is inviting. It smells like vanilla. The counter is small and only one person sits behind it. Mattius speaks to him. While he talks, I walk around the small lobby.
“Are you sure you’re okay with Mattius being here?” Jospin asks.
It’s hard for Jospin to accept that Mattius and Clovis were both working behind his back, albeit not together. For me, it is easier. I might not fully trust Mattius, but as long as we are all working toward the same motive, I am fine with him being here. What I actually care about is finishing what Dad started.
I could exact revenge on the man who killed my dad. But my heart tells me to focus on the bigger picture.
“Yes. He gave us valuable evidence we needed. That’s what matters.”
Mattius was never my friend and he never betrayed me. So it is easier for me to be impartial.
Jospin winds an arm around my waist. “If you’re sure.”
“I am,” I reply.
Mattius approaches. “I could only afford one room.”
“One room is fine,” I say quickly, before Jospin can speak.
Clovis leads the way to the stairs, and we climb two flights to our room. The halls are hung with silver wallpaper, and the floors are covered with plush carpet.
The inside of the room is simple. Two queen beds are swathed in royal-blue comforters. Gold pillowcases match the gold frames surrounding two large paintings that hang from the wall. One small bathroom is off to the side. Across from the beds sits a television. But the best part is the air conditioner. It has been so long since I have felt anything bu
t a fan. I sit on the bed closest to the air with my face to the vents for a few moments, reveling in the pleasure of cool air.
“Are you okay?” Jospin asks, wrapping an arm around my waist. He settles into my back and rests his chin on my shoulder. Plants a soft kiss on my neck.
“I think so,” I reply. Then, with more conviction, “Actually, yes. I am good. More than good.”
I find my words to be the truth.
“Are you okay? Do you think your father will go peacefully?” I voice my thoughts aloud. “I’m concerned for you, Jospin. Will you be able to go through with this: a mission to take down your own father?”
Jospin must be having a hard time with everything, even if he doesn’t talk about it.
“We’re doing the right thing, and I force myself to focus on that,” he says. “Though I do think my father will give a fight. And I fear it will be his last.”
I turn and face Jospin. His stare is terribly beautiful, because on the one hand it is his father we’re speaking of, but on the other hand he is holding me, convincing me with his look that he wants to be here, beside me.
Jospin has chosen to save the gorillas too.
Maybe indirectly, maybe through his love for me, but nonetheless he has chosen not to fight beside his father, and for that I am thankful.
I lean my forehead against Jospin’s and close my eyes.
“I could do this without you,” I confess, “but I’m so glad I don’t have to.”
He didn’t have to pick me. But he did.
“You will always have me,” he says fiercely.
Clovis clears his throat. “We’re going to the market. We’ll be back in an hour or so. Do you need anything?”
“I don’t,” I say.
“Me either,” replies Jospin.
But he’s not looking at them, because his eyes stay focused on me. He traces a finger down my face, pausing at my lips.
“Raven,” he says.
The door shuts, giving Jospin and me privacy.
“Yes?”
“I lied,” he whispers. “I do need something.”
I know exactly the type of something he needs, because I need it too. Jospin leans into me, inhaling the scent of my hair. He kisses my ear softly.