AMANI: Reveal

by Marie, Lydhia

  We did. And as we followed her, I noticed three cats stalking Madame M.’s heels as she walked toward the small living-room to our left… where two more cats were perched on an old TV screen. The Saint Bernard dog who’d greeted us at the door was comfortably seated on an apple-green couch perpendicular to a large window.

  “I believe I should introduce you to our little family. This is Snow White,” Madame M. said, patting the dog. Then she pointed at a sixth cat I hadn’t seen, next to the bookshelf. “The grey Maine coon is Doc”—she moved on to the two felines on the TV—“the orange-and-white exotic shorthair”—the only cat who hadn’t bothered opening its eyes when we arrived— “is Sleepy. Next to him is a grey striped Scottish fold shorthair named Bashful.”

  She lowered her head and smiled at the three felines still at her feet, taking turns at rubbing their heads against her calves.

  “Aren’t those all Snow White’s dwarves’ names?” Xander whispered in my ear while Madame M. picked up a white cat with extremely blue eyes.

  “Yeah…”

  “Sneezy is a Siamese,” she continued, before she put it down and patted another one, which had one brown eye and one blue. “This is Happy, a Turkish Van cat. But don’t be fooled by his name; he only likes me.” The last one, the longest cat I’d ever seen, with the longest pointed ears too, threw itself on its back as soon as Madame M. touched it, and it started to play with her. Our host, clearly used to her cat’s gaiety, sat on the floor and rubbed its belly. “And this is Dopey, a Savannah cat; a very rare breed around here,” she said in a playful voice. “Yes you are. Yes you are, my little Dopey-boo-boo.” She giggled and I almost felt like I was intruding, standing there, wondering about Madame M.’s mental health.

  I slowly turned to Xander, who seemed to be thinking the same. “Er, do you think…” I started but was instantly interrupted by Karl.

  “What a lovely home you have,” he said. “Thank you very much for allowing us to hide—”

  Madame M. got up in one movement, so gracefully that it actually reminded me of a cat’s agility and suppleness. “This is nothing, Karl. After everything that happened, it is the least I can do. I still receive news from the Protectors in Canada, you know, even though I’m now retired.” Her gaze moved from Xander to me, and back to Xander. “I cannot believe I am hosting a Seraph and a Rascal!” She clapped her hands together and grinned. “Of course, I am on your side, young man,” she continued, stepping closer to my friend, who had clearly not expected Madame M. to know what he was. “Obviously, otherwise you would not be standing here right now.” She winked at him.

  Xander simpered. “Er… thanks.”

  “Parfait!” Madame M. blurted out. “I will show you to your room. Two of you, I assume Karl and Samera—your mother’s told me so much about you—will take the guest room.” She pointed down the hallway. “Amya will take the couch—very comfortable, and you might even get to sleep with Dopey and Bashful. Le salon est leur salle préféré,” she added in French.

  “It means that the living room is their favorite room,” Sam proudly translated, her eyes shining like dark stars.

  “Oh, mais tu es très bonne!” Madame M. replied. I could only recognize the word bonne. Samera had once told me it meant good. “Ta mère m’avais dit que tu apprenais le français à l’école, mais je n’aurais jamais cru que tu étais aussi avancé.”

  Sam’s hand flattened against her chest. Whatever Madame M. had just said, she’d won her heart for ever.

  They exchanged a few more sentences I did not understand, and then our host prepared pasta for dinner. Meanwhile, Karl told us all about Madame M.’s famous reputation among the Protectors of Amani. Before retirement, she was the head of the safety department in Montreal. Just like the Protectors in New York were in charge of the United States in general, even though there were Headquarters in every state, the Protectors of Montreal dealt with the large territory of Canada. Madame M. had taught kung fu to more Protectors than she could remember and she had been made particularly famous when she’d saved the life of the Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau during an attack on his life by a man who had escaped the Red Dimension.

  Dinner was very tasty. Madame M. confessed she loved the addition of curry, chili, and cloves in her cooking, which suited Samera perfectly even more.

  Xander applied the rest of the ointment my Blue-self had made on my shoulder, and at eight-thirty sharp, we were ready to go to bed. Madame M. turned off the lights in the living room around nine. Karl had proposed that I sleep with Sam in the bedroom and he on the floor next to the couch, but I refused, saying that I might not sleep very well with my shoulder and that I did not want to disrupt Samera’s rest.

  “Good night, you two,” Madame M. said to Xander and me, before she opened the door that led to the basement and disappeared down the staircase.

  I bid her goodnight and then turned to my friend. “Are you certain you don’t want to use the couch? I would be just fine on the floor,” I said.

  Xander shook his head. “Nah. You need to rest more than I do.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  I closed my eyes and tried focusing on my breathing. I knew I needed sleep, but my head kept churning with my sister’s disappearance, the Rascals’ attack on HQ, and what we would say to Hibiscus tomorrow. If he knew another Rascal, then he would not get scared easily by Xander, which was good. But then, if he’d known more about them, why not tell Michelle on their email exchange? And speaking of Michelle, had she already met the supposedly good Rascal back in New York?

  “Amya?”

  Xander’s whisper veered me away from my thoughts.

  “Hm?” I answered, my eyes still closed.

  “Can you promise me something?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “If we do find a way to kill my kind—”

  “We will, Xander. Don’t worry about it. We’ll do everything to clear your—”

  “I know, I know. But I want you to promise me that if I ever become dangerous to you, or to anyone; if I ever turn into a monster… I want you to swear you’ll kill me.”

  Chapter XV

  Amya Priam

  At ten forty-five the next morning, Samera—who could now walk with ease on her two feet—Mr. Jensen, Xander, and I met with Sheldon in front of the McGreer building. He wore purple sweatpants and a black sweater with the word Gaiters on it.

  “You didn’t come to the party last night?” He teased us, clearly happy to see Samera again.

  Sam looked apologetic. “We fell asleep pretty early. Next time, maybe?”

  On our way to Hibiscus’s office, Mr. Jensen kept questioning Sheldon about his parents, where he came from, and how serious he was at school. Sam, Xander, and I walked a short distance behind them.

  Normally Samera and I would have been giggling at Sheldon’s reactions when the inquiries became too personal, but today my best friend merely wore a content facial expression and kept checking the time on her dad’s cell phone every other minute, as though Xander and I were invisible.

  I had never seen her looking so stern and bored. Only when Sheldon dared a glimpse in her direction did she put on a smile for the show…

  I planned on having a conversation with her about her “responsibilities” and her fear of disappointing her mother as soon as I got the chance.

  We walked across a rectangular space facing the library where, according to Sheldon, students often studied on the lawn during warm summer days and where a festival called Winterfest took place during the winter.

  “Even better than Oktoberfest,” he told Samera. “Though St. Patrick’s Day’s the best. If you come here next year, I’ll show you.”

  Hibiscus’s office was on the second floor in the Molson building. There were intriguing paintings and drawings hanging on the walls in the hallway, but we did not stop to take a better look. Instead, Sheldon guided us to a closed door, and then immediately bid us goodbye.

  “She doesn
’t like me much. Might have to do with the fact that my friends and I stole her wheelchair last year on April Fools’ Day, and it took three hours and five professors to find it.”

  Sam burst out laughing at last, though one stern look from Karl set her back to her serious mode. “Thank you for your help,” she said, then paused. “Wait, did you just say Hibiscus is a she?”

  In that very moment, the door opened and a middle-aged blonde woman in a wheelchair was frowning at us, five books in her lap and one half open in her free hand. Startled, my brain tried to find the right words to introduce ourselves, but Karl was faster. He stretched out his hand and said he was Michelle Cohen’s husband.

  Understanding finally reached Hibiscus’s blue eyes and she immediately beckoned us inside her small office. She had such a strong British accent, it took me a few seconds to become acclimated.

  “She didn’t tell me you were visiting!” Hibiscus said excitedly. “I would’ve cleaned a bit…” Indeed, her office was very messy, with dust on trophies and books in her narrow bookshelf. A very old grey couch sat under the window, the middle sagging as though tired from the weight of the world.

  Hibiscus put all of her books down on her short desk and started unbraiding her hair as she spoke. “I suppose”—she stared at Xander—“Michelle sent you regarding Rascals. About this young man, perhaps?”

  Taken aback, Xander opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  “How can you tell?” I asked. Was there a trait by which one could recognize such a breed?

  “Oh, no! Ha! It would be nice to tell them apart from humans, wouldn’t it? Well, there is a certain trait, but it applies only to the good ones, when you know what to look for, of course. Nasty Rascals are perfectly unrecognizable, as far as I’m concerned. Good folks like you, however”—she narrowed her eyes at my friend—“tend to bear this very strong, palpable guilt in their eyes.”

  Xander looked away. “That’s probably because we didn’t choose to be this way,” he muttered.

  “Ha! Very good point you’ve got there.” She began to braid her hair again, like a nervous habit. “But many people in this world feel guilty. I was only able to guess after you told me Michelle had sent you. Speaking of which, what is it I can do for you? I have a class at one-thirty and I must prepare… last week was a complete fiasco.”

  Sam stepped forward. “We are here to ask you if you know how to kill a Rascal.”

  “Oh, I see…” Hibiscus said as she finally let go of her hair and rolled toward Xander.

  Without warning, she grabbed something sharp from a side-pocket of her wheelchair and stabbed it into Xander’s thigh.

  He let out the loudest scream, fell backward on the couch, and shouted, “ARE YOU COMPLETELY MAD?”

  “What was that for?” Karl stepped in, alarmed.

  A few drops of blood stained Xander’s jeans, but as soon as he had removed the pencil from the wound, the scarlet hole shrank until the skin had sealed back to its usual smoothness.

  Hibiscus shrugged. “I’m merely demonstrating my knowledge on the subject. I went to high school with a Rascal—the one Mrs. Cohen is meeting today—and that’s as far as he told me. I reckon he never really knew what could kill his kind.”

  “You couldn’t have just said so?” Xander muttered.

  “What’s all the fuss about? You’ve healed in seconds.”

  “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

  Hibiscus’s eyebrows rose and she shrugged. “I apologize. I tend to get over excited.” She seemed to recall something and smiled. “In any case, if you plan on sticking ‘round today, we could experiment with a few things, see how you react.”

  We all looked apprehensively at Xander.

  “That is very generous of you to propose,” Karl said. “We would not want to bother you—”

  “Ha! Not bothering me at all. Ignorance is what bothers me. I’ve always been very curious… especially being a Seraph myself…”

  I had been staring at Xander, trying to guess what he was thinking about, but that last sentence brought my focus right back to the professor.

  “What did you just say?” Samera interrupted. She gazed sideways at me.

  “Haven’t you read my book? Surely you know what a Seraph is…”

  The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on me. Hibiscus was the first Seraph I had met outside of my own family members. I remembered Gareth saying there were other people like me, but I had never imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that I would meet one of them… like ever.

  Hibiscus frowned, clearly wondering what was going on.

  “Did I offend someone?” she asked.

  “No,” I finally spoke. “That’s not… Er, are you really a Seraph? I mean…”

  “Of course, dear!” She laughed. “I’ve got no reason for lying to you. I am a healer. You see, I will demonstrate it to you. Kneel before me.” Unsure, I frowned. “I can make the pain of your shoulder go away, but as you must have realized by now, I have a little difficulty standing up—so kneel before me.”

  I got down on one knee. Hibiscus had barely touched my shoulder when the mild burning sensation died out completely. Surprised it had been so quick, I stood up to remove the bandage Madame M. had made for me this morning and was elated to notice a white scar where the skin had been torn just two days before.

  “How did you…?”

  But Hibiscus did not let me finish. Instead, she turned to Xander. “That is why I wouldn’t worry if I were you, because if we do find something that your system is not able to regenerate, I can heal you all the same.”

  “Promising…” Xander answered, not entirely convinced it was a good idea.

  “Oh, did I scare you?” Hibiscus laughed again. She raised her arms, as if wanting to unbraid her hair again, but decided against it. “I won’t use my pencil on you anymore, I promise. If you chose to let me help you, I will utilize a proper knife and inflict only small cuts at a time, with different materials. Quite simply, really.” She sounded very inspired.

  Xander was about to say something, but I didn’t let him. I couldn’t shake the idea that I was face to face with a Seraph. “Let’s go back to you being a Seraph for just one moment,” I said. “Does Michelle know? Did she know all this time, and she never told me?” I said that last sentence more to myself than to Hibiscus, who now wore a curious expression.

  “Blimey! Are you one of us?” She extended her hand. “Very nice to meet you…?”

  “Amya Priam,” I said, bewildered, shaking her strong grip.

  “Brilliant! I’m Hibiscus Jones,” she said before she released my hand. “Yes, it is my real name. Let’s just say my mother was very fond of plants. And no, Michelle never asked, so I did not tell her. You must meet the rest of our club! How long you are you planning on staying in Sherbrooke?” She stared at me, then at Karl, who seemed overwhelmed.

  He shrugged. “As long as we have to…”

  “How wonderful! Now, I really must prepare for class—don’t know how I will manage to focus with you two on campus—so if you don’t mind—” She spoke rapidly while she opened the door. “Young man.” She narrowed her eyes at Xander. “Meet me here at five-thirty this afternoon.” He nodded skeptically. “And you”—her gaze found mine—“you should join the rest of the club at noon for their first meeting of the week. Tell them I cannot make it and that I sent you.”

  “There are others like us here?” I managed to babble, stepping outside.

  “Ha! Of course there are. Now, you will understand that we formed a secret club. We don’t go ‘round telling everyone who we are, so you should find them in a rented room at the library. Tell the woman at the desk you are meeting with Patrick.”

  No more than thirty seconds later, Xander, Samera, Karl, and I were facing a closed door, disbelief written all over our faces. I could not shake the idea that Hibiscus had made my wound disappear. Just like that. I was especially glad it was gone since, according to Karl, it would have been risky to go
to the hospital if I did not get better. After all, Protectors had eyes and ears everywhere.

  It was now eleven forty-five and I was more excited than ever to meet yet more Seraphs, so I immediately asked Mr. Jensen whether or not I could go to the library for the club meeting.

  “If that is what you want, Amya, then you should go,” he said. “Do you need any of us to come with you?”

  Xander’s eyes lit up. “No, that’s fine.” I answered, clearly disappointing my friend. “I think I should go alone. Besides, it’s a club for Seraphs, so it would be weird to bring someone who’s not…”

  They accompanied me in front of the library, and Sam, still looking at her father’s cell phone, said they would be waiting for me in the SUB. “It says here there’s a café called Tim Horton. I’m starving.”

  “We need to call Michelle to make sure her meeting with the Rascal went well,” Karl added, tense. “When you’re ready, you can join us and we’ll go back to Hibiscus’s office together.”

  “You’re coming with me?” Xander asked, relieved.

  “Of course, you silly,” Sam asserted. “No wonder why Sheldon didn’t want to see her. Did you see her expression when she stabbed you? Like she was enjoying herself. Jeez, I’m not leaving you alone with her for one second. Who knows what she’ll try on you?”

  Even though Samera had a good point, I could not make myself feel any less impressed by what Hibiscus had just done. She might be a little intense, but she was like me in a way that not many people were.

  They left me at the top of the stairs leading up to the entry and, after taking a deep breath, I walked in. I felt disoriented and so nervous, glancing around for something that would calm my nerves. There was a reading room to my right, a staircase leading to an open second floor, a computer room straight ahead, and finally to my left, a desk where I was to find a librarian.

  “Can I help you?” the older of the two women asked while she scrutinized me up and down, like she could tell I did not go to this university.