“But that’s impossible,” she replies. “Jade’s dead.”
“Technically, it’s not impossible,” I say. “Her body was never found. The police and everyone just assumed she was dead.”
Mom nods. “I never told either of you this, but I always felt, down deep in my heart, that Jade was alive. Remember that girl … what was her name? The one that was taken from her family’s holiday home in Spain when she was three?”
“Jolene Smart?” Lola asks.
“That’s the one,” Mom says with a wistful smile. “They found her after fifteen years, remember? She was living with a family in America who’d made her believe that she was really their daughter. Fifteen years. I’m sure most people believed she was dead, too.”
“But Jade’s case is different,” Lola interjects. I notice she’s gripping the steering wheel more tightly now. We make a sharp turn into the parking lot for the hospital.
“How is it different?” I ask as the car slides into a parking spot.
Lola turns off the ignition and shrugs. “I just feel it is.”
We enter the hospital, passing its three-dimensional plasma images of famous cartoon animals and brightly coloured butterflies that move toward us, large smiles plastered across their faces. The hospital is obviously attempting to make the space as welcoming and child-friendly as possible, yet this still has to be the single most depressing place on Earth. A young boy without any hair shuffles past me in slipper-clad feet, his father walking beside him, rolling a pole with a clear IV bag hanging from it. I smile at the boy, even though the sight of him makes me want to cry. He beams a toothy grin back at me.
Mom rushes up to the information desk. Lola is right behind her. I might be imagining things, but Lola looks very uncomfortable, like she’s constipated and confused all at once. But maybe I’m just reading into it, and she actually just feels like me — uneasy in a place where so many kids are suffering.
“My baby is here,” Mom says. Her accent always thickens when she’s emotional. “Her name is Jade Guzman.”
This is so surreal. I pinch myself hard on the bicep to make sure I’m not dreaming. Jade is here….
The nurse looks over her blue-rimmed glasses at Mom. “Is she your daughter?”
Mom nods. Tears are sliding down her cheeks again. I walk over, take her hand, and squeeze it hard.
“Jade’s my twin sister,” I say. “The paramedics are expecting us. We were on the subway this afternoon when the accident happened.”
The nurse frowns. “The police are questioning some of the injured at the moment. They’ll want to speak with you as well.”
“The police?” Mom asks, shocked. “Why do the police need to question my girls?”
“It’s already been leaked to the media, so I guess we’re okay to tell you,” the nurse says. “Apparently, the accident on the subway today was no accident. It was a bombing.The police suspect climate-change terrorists.”
My heart skips a beat. “Was anyone killed?” I ask.
The nurse looks at me. “Not that we know of, but several passengers are listed in critical condition.”
I swallow hard. “Has a boy named Raphael been admitted here?” I ask. The pounding of my heart fills my head. “He’s fourteen or fifteen.”
“Last name?” the nurse asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But he’s my friend. He was with us in the subway.”
The nurse looks at her computer screen. I hold my breath, waiting for her answer.
“No one by that name was admitted here. He could’ve been taken to another hospital, though we were asked to take all the under-eighteens. Maybe he’s okay?” she says.
Maybe, I think. Hopefully.
Suddenly, a man runs up to us and sticks a microphone in Mom’s face. “Ms. Guzman, can you tell us where your daughter’s been for the last four years?”
“What was she doing on the subway today? Was she injured in the explosion?” another reporter calls out.
Flashes of light explode in front of my face as we dodge cameras and news drones on our way to Jade’s room. Two hospital security guards, with bodies more ape than human, are assigned to help us.
“Don’t say anything yet,” one of them cautions us, his blue eyes narrowing at a female journalist that jumps in front of us like a ninja. He sticks his arm out, palm forward, warning her to back away.
I look over at Mom. He needn’t worry. She’s speechless. Tears of joy wet her cheeks as she rushes into the hospital room. The security guards quickly close the door as several journalists, the cameras on the drones above their heads clicking away, attempt to follow us.
“Gloria a Dios!” Mom cries, rushing to the bed and throwing her arms around Jade’s neck.
Lola stands to one side of the bed and watches, her face devoid of emotion, as Mom and Jade embrace, both of them sobbing openly now.
I stare at Lola until I catch her eye. Then I raise an eyebrow. Why isn’t she happier to see Jade?
She quickly looks away and out the windows, pretending to stare hard at something beyond the fringe of trees on the other side of the glass.
“Mi nena! My angel!” Mom exclaims, tears streaming down her face. Strands of tear-soaked hair stick to her cheeks. Brushing them away, she sits back and stares at Jade.
“Is this real?” she whispers to no one in particular, clutching at a tissue with her hand. “Am I dreaming?”
I rush over and hug her. “It’s real.” Reaching out, I take one of Jade’s hands in mine. She shoots me a weak smile.
Even the two security guards flanking the door appear to be getting a bit emotional. I notice one of them clear his throat self-consciously and dab at the corner of his eyes.
Mom grabs Jade’s other hand. “Who took you? How did you escape? What did they …” She stops talking, her face crumpling with emotion like a week old jack-o’-lantern. “What did they do to you when they had you? Did they hurt you?”
Jade glances at me. Panic washes over her face.
“It’s okay if you can’t remember,” I say.
Jade nods. “I don’t know who took me,” she says. “It’s weird. I can’t tell you anything about what happened from the day I was taken to now.”
I smile. My sister hates lying, especially to Mom. This is her way of getting around that. When you think about it — she really can’t tell Mom what happened. It’s too unbelievable. Talking about demons, the Place-in-Between, and time-travelling through London would mean a one-way ticket to the psych ward. Guaranteed.
“Perhaps that is for the best,” Mom says, leaning over and kissing Jade’s cheek. “All that matters is that I have both my girls with me again. Now everything will be okay.”
Chapter 25
“Something’s not right,” Jade whispers to me as soon as Mom leaves our bedroom.
She’s lying against the pillow, her dark hair framing her pale face.
“What do you mean?” I ask. Of course things aren’t going to seem right to her. She’s been gone for so many years, and so much has changed. I think of how much worse things would’ve seemed if Mom was still sick.
“I don’t feel right. It’s as if …” she pauses, her eyes widening. “As if I’m getting weaker and weaker every minute I’m here.”
“You’re probably just in shock or something,” I say, glancing toward the open doorway. Mom’s gone to get some juice and soup. I don’t want her overhearing any of this.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and take Jade’s hand. Her skin feels clammy and cold against mine.
“Your injuries aren’t bad,” I say, trying to reassure her. “Being back is going to feel weird, that’s all. There’s going to be an adjustment period. And all the crazy media camping on our doorstep isn’t going to make that any easier.”
Jade shakes her head. “No, that’s not it,” she says.
“And it has nothing to do with my ankle or what happened on the subway … or even the journalists. I’ve felt this way from the second I returned. I feel like I’m draining away.”
“You’re tired. You’ve been through a lot.”
She pauses. “You need to listen to me, Jazz. I think I’m dying,” she whispers.
“How are my girls?” Mom asks, entering the room with a tray of steaming soup. She sets it down on the bedside table and hands me a bowl. “Chicken noodle. You both need something to nourish you after what’s happened.”
“Thanks,” I say. The bowl’s warmth is a startling contrast to the chill of Jade’s hand.
Mom perches on the edge of the bed and holds a bowl for Jade to take sips from.
I watch my sister carefully drink from the lip of the white bowl. She looks incredibly fragile, almost like a baby bird, with her head bobbing unsteadily as she sips at the broth. Dark, purplish circles frame her eyes.
My appetite deserts me. I put down my soup bowl and walk over to the window.
The street below is buzzing with activity: television vans, news drones, and reporters crowd the street in front of the house. They look uncomfortable in the noonday sun. Another heat and energy advisory is in effect for today, with the temperature climbing to the high forties again.
I wonder if climate-change terrorists really did blow up our subway train, or if we somehow caused the explosion when we came back from the Place-in-Between. The timing seems too coincidental.
And I still haven’t heard from Raphael. My texts and calls remain unanswered.
“Lola thinks we should leave Toronto,” Mom says abruptly.
I turn back around. “Why?”
“She says things are going to get worse. That the subway bombing is just the beginning of a possible wave of terrorism. And I think that we’re all going to need a break from the media circus out there,” she says, cocking her head toward the bedroom window.
“I don’t think the terrorism is going to get that bad,” I say. “Canada’s one of the only countries still letting in climate-change refugees. Other places will be targeted first.”
Jade’s watching us intently. Confusion flits across her face, and I realize she has practically no idea what we’re talking about. Of course we learned about climate change and the early climate-change wars in school, but things weren’t nearly as bad before she disappeared as they are now.
“Immigration will be stopped soon enough,” Mom says. “Too many people are heading here. We don’t have enough resources. Especially water. The government is debating an emergency bill to close the borders as we speak. Look at Los Angeles. No one can live there anymore.”
I think about the African twins whose mother enrolled them at Beaconsfield the other day. Their mother was so grateful to be here, to be safe.
“How do you know too many people are coming here? Who gets to decide we’re not sharing resources?” I ask.
My mother raises an eyebrow as a warning that I need to watch the way I’m saying things to her.
“Femi told Lola that many ships are on their way. Ships from Africa, Asia, and even as far away as Australia.”
Lola’s son, Femi, works in Ottawa for the government. I’m not sure what he does, but it has something to do with the environment and climate-change immigration. He’s only in his early twenties, so it’s amazing he’s got such an important position so soon out of university.
“So what are we going to do? Turn people away? Send them back to die in droughts and wars?” I ask.
Mom doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns and continues to feed Jade the remainder of her soup.
“Seriously. This is screwed up. And where exactly does Lola expect us to go?”
“She thinks we should head to the countryside. Out of the city. A woman she knows is okay with us staying at her cottage for a few months. And she brings up a good point: it will be a more positive place for Jade. We’ll be away from the city, and around nature. The media are going to continue crawling all over us until a more exciting story breaks.”
“A few months?”
“Do this for your sister, Jasmine. I realize it won’t be easy for you.”
I look over at Jade. She’s pale, and her eyes keep closing as she watches us talk. There is something wrong with her. I can feel it. She’s slipping away. Maybe being out of the city and away from the reporters knocking at our door will be the best thing for her. Except that means I’ll be away from Beaconsfield and our Protectors as well. And Raphael. If Raphael is still around….
“When does Lola want us to leave?”
Mom grimaces and I dread what she’s about to say before the words are even out of her mouth. And that’s because I’ve just read her mind. Her thoughts are filling my head. My powers as a Seer seem to be stronger now that Jade is here.
“Tomorrow. Lola’s arranged to pick us up early in the morning. I’ll call your school and let them know you’ll be away for awhile.” She watches me, waiting for my reaction.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go, but I’m not saying I’ll stay for months. In fact, I’m not committing to anything, but …” I look over at Jade again. She’s asleep. If it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, it would be easy to believe she was dead. “It probably is good for Jade to recover in a place that is more peaceful and quiet.”
I’m about to fall asleep that night, suitcases packed beside my bed, when something hits the window. It’s almost like a hard tap. The second time I hear the sound, I sit up and look around, my eyes slowly adjusting to the shadowy light of my bedroom.
Jade’s asleep, only a few metres away, on the futon. Though it’s reassuring that she’s so close, her breath is now shallow and raspy, as if she has pneumonia. Her condition is getting worse for sure.
Something hits the window again. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slip my feet into my slippers before shuffling over and putting my forehead against the glass of the windowpane. I peer out into the darkness. We keep the windows closed and the air conditioning on low because it’s still so hot at night.
Someone, or something is crouching in the upper branches of the trees just outside my window. I jump back, startled. My heart feels like it might jump out of my mouth, but then I realize that I’m back in Toronto, and whatever’s in the tree most likely isn’t demonic. Though a having a human lurking about, looking into my bedroom window at night is not much better.
I move back to the window and cup my hands on either side of my eyes in order to get a better look. It takes a second to adjust to the darkness. Raphael waves to me from one of the branches.
Hands shaking, I slide the window open. The screen prevents me from sticking my head out. Raphael puts an index finger to his lips.
“Meet me out front,” he says.
I nod, close the window, quickly throw on a pair of jeans and a tank top, and tiptoe through the apartment to the front door. Mom would kill me if she knew I was sneaking out at one in the morning.
Raphael’s already leaning against the thick trunk of the tree by the time I get outside. He smiles that lopsided grin of his at me, and for a moment, I melt like butter. But then I remember how he left all of us during the subway accident, and I march over to him.
“Where have you been? Thanks for taking off and leaving us on a bombed subway. And why haven’t you answered my calls? My texts?”
His expression remains calm. “You don’t understand, Jazz.”
“Like hell I don’t understand,” I shout. “You left us. I might’ve been dead for all you knew.” Anger rises in me. I haven’t felt this way in a while. I shove Raphael hard in the chest.
“Don’t you care about me at all?” Tears well up in my eyes. Great. Now he knows exactly how I feel about him.
Raphael grabs me by the wrists. Hard.
“Listen to me, Jazz,” he
says, leaning in close. “Of course I do. I care about you a great deal. That’s why I wasn’t on the train. I knew you were okay. But other things are happening. Terrible things.”
I stare at him. “Like what?”
“Demons are on this side. They’re here and there are greater numbers of them every day. I don’t know if they got through with us, or if darker forces are at work. Either way, you’re not safe. No Seers or their Protectors are safe now.”
Despite the heat, a shiver runs through me. “What about Jade? For your information, she’s anything but okay.”
“That’s what I came to talk to you about,” Raphael says, letting go of my wrists. “The doll. The one you said you touched just before you had the vision of Jade. What did it look like?”
“I don’t know. It was wooden, and it looked African. Maybe like something from Nigeria, where Lola’s from.”
Raphael frowns. “I need you to listen really carefully, Jazz, because I’m not going to be around in the next little while to guard you or guide you.”
“You’re taking off again?” I say, shoving him in the chest once more. Though it’s meant to be a playful shove, it comes off a little harder. I can’t help it; the fact that he’s leaving just reinforces the fact that he obviously isn’t that into me. “Where are you going now?”
“My brothers need me,” Raphael says. He’s calm and unflustered; it’s as if the shove hasn’t happened at all. “I don’t have much time. You have to get that doll and destroy it. Look up ‘Ibeji’ tonight, before you leave the city.”
“How do you know I’m leaving the city?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. I glance up at the tree. “And how could you have possibly climbed to the top of that tree, and then back down so fast? It’s not humanly possible.”
“I can’t explain it to you it,” Raphael says. “I wish I could. Believe me, Jazz. I wish I could.” He leans in close, his black hair falling forward across his forehead. For a moment he just stares into my eyes. “You just need to be very careful when you are away from here.”
Finding Jade Page 13
