Redemption by Veronique Launier

want to talk to this man about it?”
    I want to say no. I want to put my hands over my ears and shout “tralalala” until all the scary nonsense stuff disappears. But by this point, I have to come to the conclusion that this is either really happening, or I am a lot more crazy than I thought I was. I should talk to the man about it. I need to find the answers. Don’t I?
    “I don’t know,” I say.
    “What if we ask him the meaning of the words without telling him where they come from?”
    “I could handle that.”
    He smiles at me, but it’s an absentminded smile with no warmth. We walk back to the man, who is looking between Guillaume and me in a strange manner.
    “You and her; I don’t think it is such a good idea,” he tells Guillaume.
    “It’s not what you think.”
    The man shrugs. “It’s not my business.”
    “No, it wouldn’t be. What do they call you?”
    “I am Robert, though my people often refer to me as old man Robert.”
    “Old man Robert, we’ve come to you with a question.”
    He nods.
    I recite the gibberish—that I now know to be Mohawk words—etched in my mind.
    The man’s eyes open wide and he looks at Guillaume.
    “Where did she learn it?”
    “Not from me, but you recognize it, don’t you?”
    The man appears serious. His eyes look dark and he strokes his chin. Finally, he lowers his voice to speak. “I need to look into this … to verify something. Could you come visit me on the reservation?”
    Guillaume and the man make plans as I stand a few steps away, clutching the drum I purchased. I feel lost and frightened. I just leave.

18
    Guillaume
    Once I realized she was gone, I thanked the old man and quickly got on a train to Aude’s house. A blast of cold air greeted me when I stepped out of the metro station. The bitter chill suited my mood. I walked toward her house at a quick pace and was about to climb up on the roof of the house across the street when I saw her through her front window.
    She stood in front of a red-haired woman, and laughed. At first, I concentrated on her, the way her eyes squinted, and her lips curled up. The relaxed position her shoulders were in and the way they shook slightly when she laughed. Something about the scene framed in that triplex’s window soothed me.
    Then my eyes moved to the figure in front of her. It was that of a middle-aged woman, probably in her early
to mid-forties, still very young by my standards, but all mortals were. My eyes took in her facial features, and my heart dropped.
    Standing in front of Aude was a matured version of Marguerite. I knew my imagination played tricks on me. It was the red hair and some similar features, maybe wishful thinking since we would all have loved for her to reach that age.
    I released the breath I’d been partially holding since I had noticed Aude’s disappearance. She was safe. I would still get the answers I wanted. The game wasn’t finished.
    On my way home, I went over every detail of my day with Aude. The power I had seen in her eyes and her being able to hear my mind voice both gave me the most hope and the biggest concern. I walked faster and wondered when I would start feeling the drain on our life energy, our essence. It was a matter of time until we did, first fading into normal fatigue cycles of a human being, and then worse. Right now, it was hard to imagine, because I somehow felt more alive than I did before the workshop. I could swear I had experienced a renewal of sorts. Could it have happened? Could she have transferred essence to me? Or was I just imagining it? I was getting so close to the answer, I was starting to declare victory before I had even reached it.
    When I walked in, the whole family was gathered around a kitchen table examining a laptop computer.
    I frowned. “What are you doing?”
    “We’re trying to figure out this Internet stuff, but I’m not sure we are doing it right,” Garnier said.
    “How many gargoyles does it take to connect to the