AMANI: Reveal (12 page)

              “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.”

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.
              “Er, yes. Well, I’m meeting someone for a class assignment,” I said, trying to sound convincing. “Patrick?”
              “They are in seminar room 102 today,” she said, not even looking at her list. “For the writing club, right? You’re a new member?”
              “Writing club? Yeah. Er… where’s room 102 again?”