Redemption (12 page)

“How much did Marguerite tell you about her research?” I asked him.

“Let’s go to the roof,” he said.

This is why Garnier was my best friend. He always stuck by me no matter what. Even when he didn’t agree. Even after Marguerite. He also understood when I needed my privacy. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell the others everything, I just didn’t know how. I couldn’t stand the look of disappointment in Vincent’s now-young face or Antoine’s parental authority. Garnier was different.

We sat on the edge of the roof and let our feet dangle. “Marguerite became obsessed shortly after she left me,” Garnier said. “I don’t know much about it, only that she discovered that a shaman’s power comes from the same place as a witch’s. Technically, they are both essentialists.”

“Yes, exactly. But the shamans have learned how to reach their essence in a different manner. The more powerful shamans can manipulate the essence of other creatures. Usually trees, or forest animals.”

“How about gargoyles?”

“It was a theory the de Rouen witches had feared all along, and why our people never mingled until Marguerite,” I said.

“She had a way of sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.” Garnier smiled fondly.

I lit a cigarette while we both thought of Marguerite. I took a drag and spoke what was on my mind.

“Aude can hear the mind voice.” I said it simply. Like it was no big deal.

Garnier’s eyes widened. “But the de Rouen witch line ended. Didn’t it? Marguerite died. You said you saw it yourself.”

“She did. But there’s obviously something more we don’t know and I can’t help but believe it is linked to Aude’s Native heritage,” I said.

“I don’t even know what question to ask first.”

I sighed. “I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m so close. And I can swear she transferred essence without even meaning to. I feel energized this morning.”

“Maybe we should tell the others about this, they can shift the direction of their research.”

I wondered about it. Was I confident enough that I believed we should put all our eggs in one basket? Perhaps, but if I was wrong, I would be to blame for turning to stone. I couldn’t do this to them again. I couldn’t bear that guilt for seven more decades.

“I don’t know. Maybe tell them about it, but not to abandon their other research?”

“Why don’t you tell them?” he asked.

“Antoine and I … ” I started.

“The tension will go away, Guillaume.”

I nodded. “But it’s still just easier if you did.”

“All right.”

We stood up and hesitated before climbing back down to the apartment. “Do you want to come with me and visit Aude at work?” I didn’t know what compelled me to invite him along, but it felt right. We used to do everything together.

Garnier raised his eyebrows at me.

“I’d like to see why she left early yesterday. ”

He agreed with me and we returned to the apartment. Before we could go anywhere, though, Antoine stopped us.

“Garnier, I need to talk to you. Guillaume, too, if you could join us.”

It seemed to be serious and I didn’t know how to refuse. We followed him to the dining room where Vincent was perched over a laptop. He looked up.

“So I researched the dead birds,” he said.

“The dead birds?”

“The ones that had fallen all around us when we were awoken. I did a lot of research. There have been many instances like this all over the world.”

Vincent sighed. “It seems to be linked to a prophecy; and I think it might link to your research, Guillaume. The Prophecy of the Seventh Generation.”

The shaman’s words to Aude returned to my memory. He had greeted her as a child of the seventh generation. “Is this an Iroquois prophecy?”

“It sure is,” Vincent said. “Have you encountered it?”

“Only a vague mention to it. Not much yet, but I still have that meeting with the shaman.”

Vincent grinned at Antoine. “See, I told you we could let him do his own thing.”

“I’ll bring it up, but can you tell me what this prophecy is about?” I asked.

Vincent cleared his throat and read from the website he looked at. “The prophecy tells us that seven generations after the Iroquois Nation’s contact with the Europeans, elm trees will die. Strange animals will be born mutated with missing or incorrect limbs. Huge stone monsters will tear open the earth’s surface. Fish will die in water. Rivers will catch fire. Air will burn our eyes. Birds will fall from the sky. But this time the Iroquois Nation will also see our people rise up and demand that our responsibility over the earth be returned.”

“Stone monsters,” I whispered.

“I’m guessing it means us,” Vincent said.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” I remembered the creature that had come after me. The one Marguerite had saved me from.

“Have you found anything else?” Garnier asked Vincent.

“No, not yet,” he replied.

“Guillaume and I are going to go see the girl again. I will have more to update you with when I get back.”

We walked out of the apartment.

“Thanks for not telling them right away,” I said once out of earshot from the others.

“I want to see it for myself first, anyway.”

19

Aude

I trudge down the narrow hallway of our apartment, and seek out Mom.

She’s in her room, nose deep in one of her crappy books,
A History on Oppression and Discrimination
. How depressing. I know this stuff goes on in the world, but I don’t see why she would need to read about it. Hasn’t she seen enough crap in her life without adding more? But maybe it isn’t as negative as it sounds. And to be fair; she does more than read about bad shit, more than most other people ever do. She’s an abuse counselor. Crazy, really, how she’s trusted to give other people advice when she’s so messed up herself. But having been there herself is what allows her to empathize, she says.

She glances up at me and slides her reading glasses down her nose to take a better look at me.

“Work, remember?” I say.

“Right, have fun.” She returns to her book only to look up again, “Oh and Aude?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“Lucy called. She said she has band news.”

I smile. Maybe they haven’t forgotten all about Lucid Pill after all. I desperately want to call her and talk to her about normal band things. Lucid Pill was everything for me, and I’m desperate to return to the simplicity of that life. Though it would mean life without Guillaume and I’ve already become accustomed to his presence. Either way—I’m late for work, and I’ll have to call her along the way.

“Be careful,” Mom says.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

My velvet, hooded sweater waits for me on the hook by the front door. I grab it and throw my winter coat over it. I run down the stairs and open the door to the second floor balcony where I’m hit by a shock of frigid air. The scent of chimney smoke fills my mouth and nose and it is almost enough to make me smile. The second staircase moans at my passage and I, once again, curse the fact that we live on the upper floor. At least it isn’t covered in ice today. I pull my hood up and walk.

The dumpsters behind the restaurants on the street corner are about overflowing and garbage covers the pavement around them. But at least in the cold winter air it doesn’t stink to high heaven the way it does in the middle of summer. I fiddle with my iPod and drop it right by a heaving heap of putrid restaurant trash. I bend down to retrieve it, and a rat peers at me from the pile. I take a step back as it comes out of its hiding place hissing at me. It’s a large rat, but that’s not what catches my attention. Like the raccoon from the other night, this rat is mutated. It’s missing some limbs and has an extra, twisted tail. It looks at me with deep, bulging eyes and I tug at my iPod using the headphone wire. I’m not about to put my hands anywhere near it. I walk away and don’t look back, scared it’s following me.

I never manage to reach Lucy. I send her a text telling her she must tell me the news ASAP, but I get nothing.

It’s another one of those days I have to waste at work with Rochelle. But at least it’s mindless and leaves me free to think over everything that happened yesterday. I have a hard time wrapping my head around it all. Rochelle attempts to rile me up, and quits when she realizes I’m not up to the banter today. I brought my laptop to work, as I often do, and decide to look up what the man said about being a child of the seventh generation. Almost everything that comes up when I Google it are pages about sustainability and going green. Was the old man only preaching environmental stuff? It felt like there was more to it, so I add the word Mohawk to the search, and suddenly most of the results are about the same thing: The Prophecy of the Seventh Generation.

I click on the first link and a chill runs down my spine. Prophecy has to do with all that mystic stuff I don’t really believe in. I freeze and my stomach drops when I read a passage about birds falling from the sky and mutated animals.

Did the birds really fall around me when I was attacked? And there is no denying the mutated raccoon or the rat I just saw on my way here. But what can it mean?

And then the words of my attacker come back to me: “
You can force the prophecy
.”

I lean forward on the front of it and let out a big sigh. It’s kind of hard not to believe in all this mystic crap when it’s all laid out right in front of me like that. What about Guillaume? How is he involved? What does he know? I also can’t stop thinking about him, and it’s not all bad. That
really
annoys me.

My phone chirps to let me know a text message has come in and I check it, doing my best to ignore Rochelle who seems to be falling all over herself greeting a customer. “Oh, you’re back!”

The message is from Lucy: “Yes! We have news, but we must tell you in person. You’re going to die.”

I’m going to die? What does she mean? I reread the text message, this time accounting for Lucy’s way of speaking, instead of my newly found paranoia, and realize she is really excited about something. Something about the band. Why make me wait to hear it though? It’s not fair. I’m feeling pushed out of the band. Pushed out of our friendship. I almost don’t feel like even going to band practice tonight.

“Would you like a new pair of sunglasses?” I hear Rochelle ask.

I turn around expecting to see Guillaume, but instead I come face to face with a smiling Garnier.

“My brother thought we should come see you at work,” he says pointing his thumb behind him at Guillaume who is stuck with Rochelle.

Despite myself, I laugh. I can’t help it. Garnier brings it out of me. His grin widens and he takes stock of the clothes hanging at the rack nearest us. A deep blue shirt with a doodlely grungy velvet design on it catches his attention and he places it in front of himself.

“Do you think this would suit me?”

The deep blue color offsets his eyes and I answer him before I have the chance to even think about playing it cool.

“Totally.”

“Great, I’ll buy it then.” He places the shirt over his arm before he continues to look through the racks.

My eyes wander to where Guillaume is standing and meet his. There is a plea in those cold, gray eyes that call me to him. But I can’t make myself move because after yesterday, and especially after what I’m starting to piece together, I have to admit I’m a little bit frightened of him.

Garnier’s eyes flicker between us and a grin spreads across his lips. “My brother told me how you ditched him yesterday during your rendezvous.”

“Rendezvous?” I don’t know how to react. If he’s going around telling people he’s going on dates with me it should really piss me off, but would it mean he likes me? And if he does, how should I feel about it given the fact I’ve just come to grips with the knowledge of his involvement in some mystical magical stuff that is way above my head?

“I was teasing, Aude,” Garnier said when he must have sensed my unease. “He didn’t say anything like that, simply mentioned you disappeared at the end without saying goodbye.”

“I was in a hurry.”

“You wouldn’t have been in such a hurry if your rendezvous had been with me instead,” he adds.

“Are you flirting with me?” It sure sounded like he was. I like to take the offense and confront men whose flirtation makes me uncomfortable.

“No, I’m not really. I’m not saying you aren’t worth flirting with, but I’m not about to go down that path with my brother. Not this time.”

I shake my head at him, but a blush creeps up my cheeks. I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed that he dismissed me so easily, or blushing because it would somehow matter to Guillaume if he did flirt with me.

“Well, I don’t date anyways,” I say.

“That’s a shame,” he answers.

“What’s a shame?” Guillaume materializes behind us, and I jump.

20

Guillaume