Chapitre 7

    I felt my knees give in as I got my senses back along with a bad pulsating headache behind my left eye. Ayatas caught me and helped me back into my comforter in the living room, then proceeded to serve some tea in a silence so full of glances towards Aldan that I soon suspected a full conversation behind my back. Well, sort of.
    — Will you teach me to communicate ?
    — I might, if you have not fled before. Though I normally have quite powerful students, and being a chimera you are a… a…
    — A telepathic halfwit ? I asked, grimly.
    He barely managed to swallow his tea before bursting into a weirdly human laughter, probably contagious because I found myself cracking up an awkward smile.
    — You are funny, for a human. Not a halfwit, no, but it will take you time and there are things you will never be able to do.
    He laboriously pulled his legs up on the sofa again.
    — Were you born with it ?
    Wow that was an embarrassed glance if there ever was one.
    — No, it started about five years ago.
    — What’s the prognostic ?
    — Weeks. Months. Nobody knows for sure. And if it does not kill me first, my liver will fail me from all the drugs I have to take. We kept this specific disease very quiet, which means we have to rely on already existing drugs. And I apologize for being straightforward, but for pharmaceutical companies we are not profitable enough to treat.
    — I’m sorry. Please ask if you need anything. I’m a nurse I won’t back down from helping someone sick.
    He shrugged what he probably thought was pity off.
    — Where were your parents living when you were born ? He asked.
    — Los Angeles.
    — Interesting. He wiggled with a focused frown to grab a smartphone. Do you know where, precisely ?
    — North of Shadow Hills. Why is it interesting ?
    — Because Los Angeles is home to the second largest community of telepaths after New York. Did you ever feel like you were hearing things growing up ? To communicate you need to somehow dissociate from your surroundings, and since small ones are not completely integrated they tend to communicate unconsciously.
    I felt as if I was punched in the gut. The hallucinations. I must have been very transparent again because I saw a small smile creep up Aldan’s face.
    — Can you remember anything strongly enough to tell me ?
    I found bits and pieces here and there, but apart from the imaginary friend I had nothing specific.
    — Well I had this imaginary friend. I started talking to her when I was five or six, I can’t remember. I think she was smaller because I knew a lot of words that she didn’t and I was constantly explaining her what they meant. I would get punished or they would call my mom because I was daydreaming in class. I was complaining to her that my mom didn’t like me very much and I felt like she could relate, somehow.
    — How did it end ?
    — My mom sent me to a therapist, who said I was a normal child with too much imagination and an over-expecting mother, and she sued him. Then she started telling me that if I kept « hearing things » people would think I was crazy and I would be sent to a lunatic asylum and she would be sad because I would never be able to come home again. The next day I told my friend to stop talking to me, and I never heard her again.
    I had watched his face grow still and loose some color while I spoke, and now I felt weird. Did I say something bad ?
    — I am sorry, but your mother is a piece of shit.
    I gasped. I mean, I knew that, and I had already grown out of blindly loving her for being the origin of my X chromosome, but hearing it said by a complete stranger felt weirdly good.
    — Could you remember the name of the girl ? Or where your school was ?
    I shook my head, then remembered the pic I was sent on Facebook last year from a former teacher there who was retiring. I fished my phone out of my pocket and browsed through the galleries.
    — There. I showed him the class photo with the school name and logo.
    He googled it and turned his phone to me.
    — This is your school, he said, pointing at a large grey square. And next to it, where it says « ITE private school », it is a telepath pre-school. That does not tell us how your mom ended up with a half telepath baby, but in my opinion your imaginary friend was very real… ah Ergis is home.
    My feel-good moment disappeared instantly.
    — Do not pull this face. As a police officer he should have handed you over to the committee last night, and instead he decided to hide you and drive you here, even after you took off through the fields like a possessed doe and bit his arm.
    Not helping. Wait. Did I really bit Ergis ? When ?
    — Do you remember your dad well ?
    — Sure. He only passed out a few years ago. Why ?
    — Ergis printed a picture of your biological father, first we need to make sure that your dad was not just living a double life.
    — Not likely. My mom would have found out. Believe me, she would. And I thought chimeras were rare. I have an older brother. He has a wife and an eight months old baby girl.
    — Interesting. Where is he ?
    — Geneva. Too far for another midnight kidnapping. I’m supposed to attend his wedding this saturday actually. If you let me take my plane tonight.
    — Hum. I guess we cannot prevent you from following your planned agenda, or it will look weird.
    — French please. Said Ergis, dropping himself on the sofa.
    — Victoire dit qu’elle a un rendez-vous à dix-neuf heures dans Paris et un avion pour le mariage de son frère à Genève ensuite.
    Je manquai de m’étouffer avec mon thé en voyant Ergis soulever les pieds d’Aldan sans gêne, et les pousser hors du canapé. Je n’avais jamais eu d’ami malade, mais jamais je n’aurai osé traiter un patient comme ça.
    — Mauvaise idée. Annulez vos rendez-vous. Je viens de passer la matinée à mentir au génotypeur et à mes supérieurs a propos d’un séquenceur défectueux qui a prit feu et noyé mon bureau, je préférerais ne pas avoir fait ça pour rien.
    Je jetai un oeil à Aldan pour vérifier qu’il n’avait pas oublié sa promesse.
    — On a besoin qu’elle demande à sa mère ce qu’elle sait. Et si la police humaine se met à la chercher partout, on aura des problèmes.
    Ergis sembla négocier silencieusement avec Aldan, mais finit par rentrer les épaules et soupira.
    — Bon. Et bien j’ai bien fait de poser mes repos. Appelez votre frère, dites-lui que je viens avec vous.
    — Pardon ?
    — Trouvez quelque chose. On doit découvrir comment ce télépathe américain a fait pour être votre père, et ce avant que quelqu’un n’arrive à récupérer les données du séquenceur et qu’on vous envoie croupir en prison le temps que la commission décide si c’est la France ou les Etats-Unis qui doit vous tuer.
    — Et le billet d’avion ? Demandai-je bêtement.
    — Donnez-moi le numéro de vol. Et l’adresse de votre hôtel, si vous restez à l’hôtel.
    — Et si je dors chez mon frère ?
    — Vous dormez chez votre frère ?
    — Non, mais…
    — Alors cessez de pinailler. Je viens, c’est tout. Et cessez de me vouvoyer, pendant qu’on y est.

    — Steve ?
     I turned away from the two men sitting on the sofa, Ergis on his phone buying plane tickets, and pulled the phone far from my ear to protect my tympans from loud baby wailing.
    — Vic ? What’s up ? Something wrong with your plane ?
    — Nope. All good. But I have a favor to ask you. I told you that I was coming alone, but would it be ok if I came with a friend ?
    And there comes the expected awkward silence.
    — Vic. Please don’t tell me you’re back with A-hole again…
    I smiled. How did mom manage to raise such a sweet brother, and turn me into a psychotic weirdo…
    — No I haven’t. I just feel really weird about being the only single person there, and I know mom and grand-ma are going to be a pain in the ass about it, so I found myself a friend willing to come with me.
    — And, just for me to know, is he a friend, or a friend ?
    I glanced at Ergis hoping he’d feel all my distrust, and decided to test his English.
    — He’s a colleague on patrol in Evry. A police officer. I think he might be into me, but given my poor previous choices I thought I could use a second opinion.
    Ergis didn’t look up, but Aldan bit his lip and reached for his cup of tea. Ok, poor English, good for me.
    I heard Steve laugh.
    — You’re a weird one, you know that.
    — Love you too. I text you when I’m on the plane.
    I hung up and went back to my seat.
    — C’est bon. Par contre vous… Tu te débrouilles pour dîner ce soir. J’ai déjà assez de mal avec ma mère comme ça.
    — Ok, ok. Tu as rendez-vous où ?
    — Ao Izakaya, c’est dans le 9e.
    — On va partir d’ici à 17h30 par sécurité. Je monte faire mes bagages, je vous laisse regarder les photos.
    — Il fait quoi votre frère dans la vie ? Demanda Aldan.
    — Stop stop stop. On tutoie tout le monde ou personne. Je me prends suffisamment la tête à l’hôpital avec ça. En anglais il n’y a que « you », et franchement on ne s’en porte pas plus mal.
    Aldan pouffa doucement et tira d’une pochette plusieurs photos et l’imprimé du séquenceur.
    — D’accord. Il fait quoi ton frère dans la vie ?
    — Il est chirurgien.
    — Je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais ça ne m’étonne pas. Tiens. Ce monsieur s’appelle Bergen Bootur. C’est ton dernier parent sur ta lignée mâle. Ton père biologique.
    Je pris la photo, dévisageai l’homme et secouai la tête.
    — Sa tête ne me dit absolument rien. Le seul point commun avec mon père c’est les cheveux noirs.
    — Tu as une photo de ton frère ?
    Je fouillai sur notre WhatsApp et dénichai une photo un peu ancienne où il avait à peu près la même attitude que celui à qui je devais ma présence sur ce fauteuil.
    — Je ne trouve pas qu’ils se ressemblent.
    — Moi si. C’est léger, mais c’est possible.
    — Il n’a jamais eu d’hallucinations, lui.
    — Ou il n’en a jamais parlé. Mais de mémoire tu es la seule chimère confirmée sensible à la télépathie. Il peut ne pas avoir hérité de ça. On a cherché Bootur sur la base de données hier soir. J’ai un accès pour la recherche. Il était malade lui aussi. Il est mort deux ans après ta naissance. Il était de New York.
    — Il n’a pas vécu à Los Angeles ? Mes parents n’ont jamais habité à New York, même si mon père y allait souvent pour le travail, je ne sais même pas si ma mère y a déjà mis les pieds. Pour elle le pays se découpe en trois bandes verticales: les états-unis, les bouseux, et les prétentieux.

    Il poussa la photo vers moi, et je la rangeai dans mon sac.
    — Seule ta mère pourra nous dire s’ils se sont croisés et où.