AMANI: Reveal (2 page)

Ian Cohen

Bastards,
I thought to myself after meeting with the leaders of the Protectors from Italy and France.
They think they can just come here and impose their rules on us.
Not that I didn’t agree with them. Quite the contrary, but the way they’d spoken to me was simply unacceptable.
I
was the second in command in this country, so they had no right to boss me around.
              Nonetheless, I needed to express their dissatisfaction to Michelle and I needed to do it now, before Xander’s trial tomorrow.
              Followed by the two bodyguards I had been assigned after Jonathan Cohen’s presumed attempted murder on me, I walked to Michelle’s office and knocked three times at her door.
              “Yes?”
              Stepping in, I assured her I did not wish to take too much of her time and I closed the door, leaving Dick and Max behind. It was their lunchtime anyway. “Mrs. Cohen, I just met with Stephano and François and we need to talk.”
              She looked up from her laptop and frowned. “What did they ask now? I already allowed the prosecution to plead for a death sentence because of all the protests I received from your colleagues. I cannot and I
will
not push for Xander’s death. You saw the boy. He’s as harmless as a bee.” I tilted my head, wondering what she meant by that. She closed her laptop. “A bee will sting not because it wishes to harm you, but because its sting is its only defense mechanism. It’s the only way it can survive. Well, except for honey bees, but you see my point. Xander needs to feed in order to survive. I know he has fed on my daughter and Amya several times, yet he’s never harmed them in any way. He isn’t a monster.”
              “Tell that to John,” I replied.
              Danny, John’s brother, was a Protector who’d been badly injured during the fight against the Rascals in England. When he was brought to Dr. Goldbridge at HQ, they realized that he had been bleeding internally for too long and that his brain was badly damaged. Danny hadn’t been able to talk much since the incident and he had to be carried in a wheelchair at all times. Let’s just say that John had sworn he would avenge his brother at all costs. He was the one who, two weeks ago, had created a group amongst the Protectors that pressed Michelle to include the death penalty in Xander’s possible consequences for being a Rascal.
              Michelle’s eyes saddened. “Danny’s fate is regrettable, but Xander had no doing in the matter.”
              “We went to England in order to find Xander, ma’am. With all due respect, were it not for Xander turning into a Rascal, no one would have been hurt.”
              “And do you believe that he chose to become a Rascal?” Her features sharpened. “Xander is as much a victim as everybody else in this case.”
              “Well, Stephano and François don’t think so. They demand a public execution, broadcasted in the Protectors’ Headquarters in every country. They want to make the knowledge public that we are not afraid of Rascals and that we won’t be intimidated by this new threat. After what happened in Italy, France, and several other countries, they want every Protector to know that we are still in control and that there is nothing to be afraid of.”
              “But
we are not in control
. Even if Xander was to be sentenced to death—and I will make sure he isn’t—how would we accomplish that? You were there with my husband when the bullets merely slowed the Rascals down. There is no way to kill them. None that we know of, anyway.”
              “That’s what I told Stephano, but he wants to have custody of Xander in order to go through a series of tests. He wants to be the one who kills him.”
              “This is out of the question!” Michelle proclaimed. I knew she wouldn’t be in favor of this, but I’d also heard rumors that Stephano had been bribing the jury in charge of Xander’s fate. Bribing and scaring them, telling everyone stories of how awful it had been—and still was—in Italy after the Rascals had killed people’s Blue and Yellow selves, and how dreadful those monsters were. Michelle might not have the last word after all.
              “I won’t allow it,” she continued. “Xander is not a lab rat and he hasn’t received his sentence yet. We will see what happens tomorrow.” She paused, lost in her thoughts. “In the meantime, try to reason with François and Stephano. Their anger is not a good example to give our people. We must seek the truth, not revenge.”
              I acquiesced and was about to leave when the door burst open and Amya Priam came in, looking upset.
              “How could you allow this?” she asked, staring at Michelle in disbelief. “Xander has never done anything to you or to anybody else. How can you allow his assassination?”
              “I will leave you two alone,” I said, rising from my chair.
              “No, Ian,” Michelle countered. “I want you to stay. You know more than anyone how difficult it is to deal with this matter.” She turned to Amya. “I tried. I promise you I did everything in my power to calm things down, but they—numerous Protectors—are very angry at the moment. They saw what happened to Danny, and since a Third World War almost started because of the Rascals, and mostly because we haven’t found a way to protect ourselves from them, fear is rising. And fear can force good people to make bad decisions.”
              “But
you
don’t have to make the same choice,” Amya pleaded. “You’re their leader. You’re the one who can save Xander. They’ll listen to you. Mrs. Cohen, please, don’t let this happen.”
              “I was voted their leader, Amya. And if I want to keep this position, I must appease their anger as much as I can.”
              Someone else opened the door in a sudden gust of wind. Short, red-haired teenager with a kooky attitude; it was definitely Samera.
              “Mom! Amya! I wasn’t—able to outrun you.” She bent forward, leaning against her knees and breathing fast. “Darn, girl. I didn’t remember how fast you are.” She faced her mother. “We—we’re here for Xander. I told her. I told her everything.”
              “Yes,” Michelle said calmly. “Amya was just telling me that much. Well, I’m afraid there is nothing I can do now, is there, Ian?”
              I shook my head and looked down at my feet. “No, I’m afraid there isn’t.” I turned to Samera. “Your mother has done everything she could.”
              Michelle smiled at me and continued. “The trial will take place tomorrow but I assure you that Xander will not be convicted. There is no evidence of his being a bad person. What we need to make sure is for people to understand that Rascals are not all monsters. In any case, I have been doing my own research for a month now.” She turned to me. “Ian, since you are my replacement as a jury member tomorrow, you cannot hear what I have to say next.”
              Michelle wasn’t allowed to represent the leader of the Protectors of the United States because she was too close to Xander. I was to replace her and vote according to what I thought would be best for everyone at HQ. Nevertheless, I would have paid a lot of money to hear what she was about to confess to her daughter.
              “I shall depart then,” I replied, smiling to hide my curiosity. “I will let Stephano and François know that you are not to comply with their demand.”
              “Thank you, Ian,” Michelle answered before I left her office.
              My first thought was to call Meo, an ally I had made. A Rascal. But then I remembered him telling me to gain my people’s trust before asking for his help again. So I headed for the main office instead, where I was certain to find John.
              He was surprised to see me. The last time I’d spoken to him directly was during the first meeting concerning Xander’s trial, two days after we came back from England. He’d tried to convince Michelle to take more drastic measures against our prisoner and I’d been obligated to stand by Mrs. Cohen’s decision to allow the boy a fair trial. It wasn’t because I believed Xander was innocent. I thought that if I helped Michelle with her cause, she would grow into trusting me with more important decisions. And that was a first step in winning the approbation of the other Protectors.
              The latest turn of events, however, opened my mind to a new perspective.
              “John!” I exclaimed when I was only some feet away from him. I walked across Amanda’s desk and ignored her friendly wave. How glad I was to have my own office now, away from everyone, but especially away from her. “It’s good to see you, man. How are you holding up?”
              John frowned. “What do you want, Ian?”
              I hadn’t expected him to be so hostile, but I guess I deserved it since I’d paid no attention to him or to his brother since England. Though I believed that a little chat with him might just soften his temper.
              “May I speak with you in my office?” I said. Before he could refuse, I added, “It’s about your brother.”
              Reluctantly, he followed me to the next room, closed the door behind him, and crossed his muscular, tattooed arms in front of his chest.
              “I’m listening. But if Mrs. Cohen sent you to convince me that Xander Macfrey is not dangerous and that my brother wouldn’t want me to send an innocent man to his death, well, save your breath because I won’t change my mind. Rascals are all the same and my group will not stop until Xander pays the price for his kind! We will not hold back until we get what we deserve. Justice.”
              Seeing him all worked up made me laugh. He reminded me of myself sometimes. “Calm down, would you? My walls aren’t sound-proof and I don’t want to draw attention to our little conversation.” I observed him while he took deep breaths and unclenched his fists. When I was certain that my words wouldn’t be wasted on him, I said, “How would you like to receive my help to avenge your brother?”
              Bewilderment flashed across his face. “Are you for real? If it’s a trick, I want nothing from you.”
              “I assure you, John, I’m dead serious.”
              “What about Mrs. Cohen?” he replied, nervous. “Does she know about this?”
              I chose to remain silent to his question, which in itself became my answer. “What are you willing to do for your brother?” I asked.
              “Anything.”
              This time, he sounded desperate. So desperate that it would have been a shame not to use him for his full capacity.
              And just then, I knew how to make sure Xander was convicted. And just then, I had a plan to become the leader of the Protectors.

Amya Priam

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” I asked Samera while we climbed down the stairs to our room.
              “Of course. Why wouldn’t she? At first I thought she didn’t care for Xander. But after what she told us, I really believe she is on our side.”
              Samera was full of joy and hope, but I couldn’t make myself feel the same way. Michelle had just told us that she had managed to find someone who was acquainted with a Rascal. A good one. That person was the author of the book on mythical creatures we had found last month at the library that described Rascals and their habits. The author’s pen name was Hibiscus. In reply to Michelle’s email, Hibiscus had given her the address of the Rascal he knew and five Protectors were already on their way to meet with him, and, if things went well, to bring him back to HQ and prove to everyone that not all Rascals are evil creatures.
              But what if it was a trick? What if that Hibiscus guy was lying, his Rascal pal wasn’t in fact a good one, and the Protectors were on their way to an ambush? That would not only prevent Xander from receiving the benefit of the doubt from the jury, but it would also infuriate everyone even more, and Xander would have no chance at all to be seen for what he really was. He would be labelled a deadly threat instantly and permanently.
              “Amya?” Samera said, pulling me out of my fears. “Are you listening to me?” Apparently I wasn’t. “Mom just texted me. Your sister wants to visit you today. She said she’ll wait for you at the entrance of the Van Cortlandt Park this afternoon, around two. Mom tried to convince her that you were too ill to go out, but she doesn’t believe her. What should we do? Gareth’s trial is this evening. Your sister cannot know what is going on here and if you join her outside, she’ll realize you aren’t sick at all.”
              The real question was, why did my sister want to visit me? Even though I had forgiven her for going out with my Rascal-ex-boyfriend, Wyatt, we hadn’t spoken much in the last month. She probably had a favor to ask.
              The only way I had thought of getting away with lying to my sister was if the lie was told by as many people as possible. She wouldn’t believe me or Sam, and it seemed that even Michelle wasn’t as reliable a source as I’d thought.
              “I need to be in bed when she arrives,” I told Samera. “So you’ll be the one meeting her in the park. I’ll try to find Dr. Goldbridge and convince him that he needs to be at my bedside when Delilah comes in. Who wouldn’t trust the words of a doctor, right?” She nodded. “But there’s one more thing I need to take care of before she arrives.”
              “Xander.”
              “Yeah. Your mother said the guards would let us talk to him before his trial. Do you think I’ll be allowed to get close enough to his cell to let him feed on me? I’m afraid he won’t pass the tests tomorrow if he’s too hungry.”
              “It’s worth a try,” Sam agreed. “Let’s get something to eat first and then I’ll try and delay Deli as much as I can.”
              We arrived on the second floor, where the bedrooms and other house appliances were situated, and went directly to the cafeteria. A handful of Protectors were still on their lunch hour, including the representatives of Africa, Sweden, Brazil, and France. They formed a closed circle around a table and seemed to be arguing about something.
              Samera and I went for the trays and filled them with chicken noodle soup, lasagna, and a piece of cheese cake. We ate in silence, trying to hear the representatives’ conversation—without much success—and as soon as we were done, Sam left to greet my sister outside HQ and I headed for the third floor.
              I walked past the gym mats, where Samera and I often worked on my ability to Sojourn, and braced myself before entering the next room. It was difficult to enjoy my visits with Xander, as his neighbor, a Protector who had developed a strong mental disorder after killing someone last month—Jonathan—kept looking at me in a scary way every time I passed in front of his cell, and throughout the entire visit. He often screamed at himself too, and tried to remove the skin from his arms with his bare hands, but the guards never let him. Today, however, he was sleeping, which eased my mind…
              Until my gaze fell on Xander.
              He was sitting at the far-right corner of his cell, next to the sink, his head between his knees, and he was shivering, as if he were in a freezer instead of behind bars. For once, he didn’t hear me approaching his cell, and after I made sure the guards wouldn’t order me to stay away from him, I called his name.
              But even when he looked up, I had difficulty recognizing him. As much as he’d changed while I’d been in a coma for five months, his transformation was nothing compared to the metamorphosis ongoing everyday he couldn’t feed. His blanched complexion and hollow, pale blue eyes now matched the emptiness of expression he bore when he saw me. His hair and beard had grown during the last month, making him look older. It was only when I said his name for the second time that he seemed to recognize me and the ghost of a smile brushed his lips.
              “Amya,” he said in a faint voice.
              “Oh, Xander. What are they doing to you? Are they at least giving you real food?”
              It broke my heart to see him like that. How hard was it to realize that he was harmless? How blind were those Protectors who thought Xander was anything like Wyatt or Meo, or any other Rascal who’d attacked them in the Bath Abbey? Xander had never tried to escape. He’d never even made a move on one of the guards, when he knew perfectly well that he was much stronger than anyone here. Why wasn’t that enough proof?
              He slowly rose from his position and looked all around. “Am I allowed to come to you?” he asked.
              In the past week, every time Xander had tried to stand less than five feet away from me—or when I approached his cell too much—guards had come and hurt him with devices that sent electric shocks to his body. Being a Rascal, he recovered pretty easily, but since he was unable to feed properly, his energy level kept going downward.
              “Michelle said it wouldn’t be a problem today,” I said softly.
              His eyes full of anxiety, Xander made a first step in my direction and abruptly stopped when someone opened a door in the hallway. I peeked at the guard close by, and was only when he assured me with a nod that Xander was safe to keep moving forward that I reached out between the prison bars.
              “It’s okay,” I told my friend. “Probably just a Protector coming back from lunch. They won’t hurt you.”
              Reluctantly, he walked closer and closer to me until his cheek was inches away from my stretching fingers. He looked at them with envy, breathing slowly. He made another step. His skin was about to make contact with mine—and that would allow him to feed on my emotions—when he turned around in a swift movement and shook his head.
              “This isn’t right,” he muttered between his teeth. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
              Even though Xander’s voice sounded hard and menacing, and his hands formed fists, I noticed that his back was hunched and he was half-walking, half-dragging himself from me. He had clearly spent too much time without feeding, so why was he running away from it?
              “What wasn’t supposed to happen?” I asked. I noticed my voice quivered a little. His state was affecting me more than I’d thought.
              “You,” he snapped as he faced me.
              Did he not want me here? “I can ask Sam to come if you pref—” I started, but I couldn’t finish my sentence. The fact that he didn’t want to see me hurt.
              After I’d learnt that Xander and I had been a couple during my first year at college—even if I couldn’t remember—I’d thought that when he was to be freed from jail, we could start dating again and see the outcome. During the past month, when I visited him, I felt this connection, like a thread between us that kept growing stronger and stronger with each moment spent together. With each week. And I thought—well, I wished—that his feelings for me would stay the same so that we could have a second chance at being together.
              But maybe I was kidding myself.
              “Neither you nor Samera should come visit me,” he said. “I pay attention to what the guards say, you know? I heard them say my trial was tomorrow.” He leaned against the wall to his left, only a few feet away from me. “And I also know the Protectors want me dead.”
              “It doesn’t matter what they want—”
              “Of course it does,” he snapped louder. “I can’t prove to them that I’m not dangerous. Heck, I’m not even convinced myself. Who knows what I’m capable of? Who knows if I won’t wake up tomorrow and turn into some wannabe Wyatt? There’s no guarantee that I won’t be of any danger to
you
! If I could vote tomorrow, I’d probably go against my own release.”
              “Don’t say that. We both know you’re not like Wyatt.”
              “
I
don’t. And if I’m not sure, how can you be?”
              “Because I believe in you. I believe that your heart is good and that nothing—not even transforming into a Rascal—can change that. You can’t just give up. You owe it to yourself and to everyone who loves you. What about your father?”
              He snorted. “My father doesn’t know what I’ve become and if he did, he’d never want to see me again.” He paused and looked at me, his harsh features melting into an anxious frown. “Amya. I don’t think you understand what I am now. I thought that you of all people would, especially after what Wyatt and Meo did to you. I need humans’ emotions to function. I’m like a parasite.”
              “Stop it! You’re not a parasite!”
              “But I am! Just look at me for a second.” His voice sounded desperate, but I couldn’t make myself look him in the eyes. After a moment, he sighed. “Please, just look at me and see—see what restraining myself from feeding on others does to me. There is nothing normal about what I have become. This”—he pointed at himself—“is not how I was meant to live my life.”
              There was such intensity in his last sentence that I had to stop myself from bursting into tears. “But,” I said, swallowing my emotions, “you don’t have to be normal, you just have to be yourself. That’s enough for me.” This time, I looked up and stared at his beautiful sky-like eyes. “Please don’t give up just yet. Michelle sent a team to find another Rascal like you. A good one. He will be there to plead for you tomorrow. He’ll show everyone that they don’t have to fear you because you’re different.”
              Xander looked down. “Would you thank Michelle for me? It must be hard to pull something like that when her own people want me dead.”
              “She is doing this because she believes in you. Don’t you see? You’re not alone in this. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”
              He smiled but remained firmly in place. “I know,” he said. “I know.”
              I stretched my arm one more time. “Come on, now, take it. I don’t have much time. Delilah is visiting me today and I should already be in my room.”
              His eyes saddened. “Amya. As much as I appreciate everyone’s efforts,” he said, walking away from me until he reached his corner, where he sat, “I agree with the Protectors. I am a possible threat that should be eliminated. I’m better off where I am: a place where I cannot harm anyone. I could never forgive myself if I ever hurt you.”
              “What? No! You wouldn’t! Remember when you fed on me for the first time? You were scared then too, but it turned out okay. And all the other times too. Why would now be any different?”
              “Because if I feed now, I’ll feel normal tomorrow and the jury won’t see who I really am. And they need to. Everyone has to know that not feeding makes me angry. You know? I’m angry nearly all the time these days. It’s like a simple noise can make me want to drive my fist through the wall until it bleeds and my bones are crushed.” He laughed to himself. “It wouldn’t hurt that much, anyway, and I’d heal almost instantly.” He paused. “Don’t you see how insane that sounds? Humans weren’t created to live hundreds of years…”
              Feeling upset at his reaction, I ignored his question. “But if you keep feeding, you won’t need to worry about that. You won’t feel angry anymore and we can keep living our lives.”
Together
.
              He shook his head for the hundredth time since I had arrived, which triggered a sudden strong emotion inside of me. Rage. “I’m not going to feed on you, Amya, so you might as well go to your sister.”
              I backed away, breathing slowly to prevent myself from screaming at him. How could he give up now that we were so close to winning this battle? “You know what? I never thought I’d ever say this about you, but you’re the most selfish person I know.” Insulted, he leaned his head back against the wall and frowned. “Because after everything you went through, the death of your mother, and your sister’s suicide, you know more than anybody else what it feels like to lose someone you love. And you’re still willing to impose that same fate on us, on everyone who still loves you.” My hands were trembling on either sides of my hips.
              “No matter how you perceive yourself now, it is
not
how we see you, and if you’re too stubborn to understand that and fight for yourself when everyone around you is fighting their ass off to keep you alive, then you’re right. You don’t deserve to live!” I said louder. “You deserve nothing more than what’s waiting for you tomorrow at the trial. But just remember one thing. If they in fact sentence you to die, and if they ever find a way to kill Rascals—” I had to stop talking for several seconds, my entire body trembling from the image. “If you become