Redemption (17 page)

“Do you know what I am?”

The man nodded and took a seat at the chair at his desk.

“What I would like to know is what she is,” he said.

“What do you mean by that? You obviously recognized her as one of your own, one that was prophesized about.”

He leaned back and took a breath.

“Yes, she is one of us. I can sense the power of the medicine man in her … but there is more to her. She has a quantity of essence like I’ve not seen in my lifetime.”

For some reason, that didn’t surprise me.

26

Aude

I regret telling Guillaume I won’t go with him to meet the shaman. I can still change my mind, can’t I? I pick up the water drum I had purchased from him and turn it over in my hands, trying to make a decision.

I feel creatively drained and the idea of discussing other instruments is appealing. It’s something other than the brain-numbing exercise of going over the same songs over and over and over again.

But the music isn’t the only reason I want to go, not even the main reason. It’s a good way to justify it, but in reality, I need to see this mystical stuff through to some sort of conclusion. Or at least an explanation.

I told Guillaume I just couldn’t deal with it, and it’s true, I can’t. But I also can’t deal with not knowing. I’m losing sleep and jumping at my own shadow. I examine every animal I encounter looking for signs of mutation. And I can’t continue like this.

This is worse than just facing the truth.

So, I breathe a deep sigh and call Guillaume’s home number, but he’s already gone. What kind of person doesn’t even have a cell phone? Instead, I call a cab. I’m going to get some answers, and then I’ll finally be able to move on.

I pull up in front of a normal-looking bungalow. I’m not sure what I’ve been expecting, certainly not the longhouses from long ago or anything, but this seems too ordinary.

An old woman answers the door and smiles at me.

“Hello, child.” She speaks in such a warm tone that I can’t be insulted she referred to me as a child. A girl around my age sits on the couch in a well-decorated contemporary living room. She’s on the phone, but keeps on eyeing me from across the room. She’s pretty and I can see some very vague resemblances between us, resemblances that make it much easier to accept that I may be from the same people.

“I’m here to see Robert. I’m a little late. I believe my friend made an appointment … ” I stop myself when I realize that my little speech comes close to rambling.

Another genuine smile later, the lady points me in the direction of a hallway.

“Last door at the end,” she says.

As I start down the hallway, I hear the teenager talking. “Grandma, can Anias come over with a couple of friends?”

The commonplace setting and conversation strikes me. There is nothing hinting at magic or voodoo. Maybe I can handle this. A certain resolve fills me and I take another step toward the door. I stop short, though. There are voices on the other side.

The conversation I overhear makes no sense. It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, but now that I’m here, it seems easier to do than to actually facing them.

“I’ve heard tell of one such as her, one who came to visit with someone like you in the days of my grandfather,” the old shaman says.

“It wasn’t one like me. It was me.”

“I had thought this to be a possibility. What I would like to know is how you’re here in front of me now.”

“How much do you know about what happened?”

“My grandfather mentioned that the girl’s mother … ”

“Alice,” Guillaume specifies.

“Yes, Alice came to him. She knew something horrible had happened, but only knew where to find three of you. His ancestor spirits led him to find a fourth—”

“Me,” Guillaume says.

“You. And they brought you and your family to the church where you would be found and put you back on the tower.”

Guillaume lets out a small laugh. “They thought we had been brought down for cleaning. I’m afraid we’ve been confusing that church’s staff for a while.” He sighs. “About Aude … ”

Of course I know Guillaume is involved somehow, but isn’t he just some rich kid who researches paranormal stuff? How could he have met that old man’s grandfather? It’s impossible. My hands are clammy. My feet want to take me in the opposite direction, to send me running to a world where things are normal, but I tried the normal thing and it didn’t work out so well. I stand my ground and instead, I knock on the door.

The old guy opens the door to let me in. I try to keep a neutral expression on my face. I sit in the empty chair beside Guillaume and stare at my hands.

“So, what are you two here to talk about?” the old man asks, pretending that the previous conversation has not occurred. I guess it makes sense, since as far as they both know, I’m not aware of it.

I’m tempted to wait for Guillaume to do the talking, but a sliver of mistrust has embedded itself in my heart. What else do I not know? He clears his throat to speak, and I cut in. I don’t want him to speak for me anymore. I may be out of my element, but I like it like that. I like that I’m a normal person who is freaked out by this stuff.

“I hear voices … and the problem is that sometimes they are in Guaneh—well, in Mohawk.”

“Where did you learn the Kanien’kéha language?”

“I haven’t. Actually the only reason I know it’s in that language is because Guillaume told me it was.” And maybe I shouldn’t have trusted him. I wish I’d checked my facts first, verified with someone who wasn’t in on this … whatever it was.

“The phrase you mentioned, the one from the drum workshop. Is this something you heard in your head?”

I nod. There is no point lying to the man.

“She hears drumming, also.”

I look at Guillaume and squint my eyes. “Yes, I
was
going to tell him that as well.”

The man looks between the two of us with a frown on his face, but he doesn’t say anything, so I elaborate.

“I heard drumming in the background of my thoughts the first time, and then the chanting came … I didn’t even realize what I was doing when I started it. The other time it was only chanting but the drums had already been going.”

“Was that at the workshop?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The man’s face breaks into a smile.

“There are other things, other powers I sense in you that have me confused, but what you’re describing to me, I know well. The spirits of your Kanien’kéha:ka ancestors are speaking to you. You are one of us, my dear.”

I try to remain angry, but I can’t. The sense of belonging that radiates from the man warms me.

“So this is normal in your people.”

“
Our
people. No, I wouldn’t say it’s normal, but it’s less rare this generation.”

“Because we are of the seventh generation?”

He smiles like a proud parent. “Exactly.”

“So this is about the prophecy with the stone monsters and dead birds and stuff.”

“Exactly,” he says. “There are many theories about this prophecy, and many people don’t believe it quite literally, but it is happening. If you look at the news, you will see an increasing number of reports of birds falling dead from the sky and fish floating up in the water. Different explanations are given for these phenomena, but the exact cause doesn’t matter. What we need to learn from this is that our mother, the Earth, is dying, and we need to rise up as one people. The Iroquois nation, the people of the longhouse, need to remember the leadership skills we once possessed and lead us to a path of enlightenment and harmony with nature.”

“So it’s the end of the world?” I ask.

“Some say it could be. But the prophecy talks of change. Great change. Another Native people have their own prophecy that is different than ours, yet doesn’t really contradict it either. This prophecy claims we are headed for a new cycle. A new age.”

“But what does it have to do with me?”

“You have a lot of power, Aude. My guess is that your power comes from two great sources, and this makes you special. You are a sort of link between our people. But I have to warn you, be careful who you trust. The greater your power the more people will try to use you for it. I think you’re an integral part of this prophecy.”

“Can she learn to transfer essence?” Guillaume asks.

“So you already seek to use her for your own purposes. Some say it is possible, but we lost the knowledge a long time ago. We’d made a deal with the witch for an exchange of information, but she died before her end of the contract could be achieved. It was the will of the spirits.”

Guillaume’s shoulders tensed. “Marguerite’s death was not the will of the spirits. It was her punishment for loving me.”

He walked out of the room leaving me to stare after him with my mouth hanging open. Until today, I thought I knew Guillaume. Now it’s as if I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know whether to fear him or hate him. Whether to pity him or … love him. I’m terrified of what he might be and heartbroken at what he might have suffered.

“You should be careful with him. I don’t believe he means you harm, but you must understand that he has a strong purpose guiding his action. You also still have a lot to learn, not only about him but about yourself. The path to this discovery lies with Guillaume. Follow him, but do not do so blindly.”

I nod. We remain motionless for a few moments until I break the silence with what had become the most meaningless question in my head. “Other than water drums, what other instruments are popular with your people?”

It doesn’t seem important anymore, but I ask it because it’s an ordinary question, and I like the idea of leaving with some normalcy back in my life.

“You mean
our
people,” he corrects me patiently.

“Right, well I’m in a band and I added some water drums to a couple of songs and I’d love to see about some more of your music … ” I’m rambling and I can’t stop myself. I know it’s the nerves, it doesn’t help.

“You should speak to my granddaughter, Kateri. She’s very good with music.”

The same girl and five teen boys now populate the living room. I don’t know these kids, but I’ve always been the type to walk right in and introduce myself, so I make my way into the living room and stop short, in shock. One of the boys is looking at me with such animosity in his eyes, that I feel like I can see them burning up in flames.

“What do you want,
Métis
girl?”

I’m not immediately sure of the meaning of the term, though I know I’ve heard it before. There is no denying that whatever it means, it was not used as a compliment.

“I was looking to talk to Kateri about music … ” I explain, hating the way my voice is shaking. I’ve always seen myself as immune to bullying. Act cool, pretend it doesn’t affect you, and they go away. The problem is, this guy caught me by surprise.

One of the boys sitting on the floor stands up and faces me. “Just go back to your own people, white girl.”

I swallow hard. I finally remember what the term means; it is used for people of mixed Native blood. I’ve been met by racial slurs in the past, but found it easy to stand up to them. The funny thing is that white is one of the only terms I haven’t been called before.

Footsteps come up behind me and I feel Guillaume’s breath against my ear as he leans in to whisper. “Is everything okay?”

“Perfectly fine. I needed to speak to Kateri about music, but it seems her people don’t speak with the likes of me.” 

I see her stand up and walk toward me, but I ignore her and walk out of the house.

“When did you become such a jerk, Stan?” I hear her say.

“He’s not a jerk, he’s an activist! We have to fight to keep what’s ours. Your grandfather’s docile acceptances are doing nothing to help our people. This generation is going to take our land back. Our land and everything else that is rightfully ours,” the first boy who had spoken to me says. I bet he doesn’t even know what docile means.

I know his type well. The same people that will call me names for speaking English instead of French or for my political conviction. I guess every culture has people like this.

Guillaume follows me out the door and catches up to me. He places his hand on my arm. The touch of his fingers sends a shock running through my body and I quickly move away.

“Let me drive you home,” he says.

“Wait.” Kateri runs out with a boy who’d kept quiet back in the house. “I’m sorry. I’ve known Stan and Caleb my entire life, so it’s easy to ignore how much they’ve turned into jerks. I should have spoken up earlier.”

I shrug, not sure what to think of her.

“Let me give you my number, and you can call me,” she says.

I raise my empty hands up at her. “Would love to, but I don’t have a pen and paper.” I don’t mention that I have my cell in my pocket.

“Fine, give me your number then.” She takes out her cell phone.