Crowned (13 page)

When I came into my telepathy Ntatemogolo told me there were three rules about planting thoughts in someone’s head. The first is subtlety. Ahem. Never quite got the hang of that one. The second is to be prepared for failure – you never know how someone will respond to having an intruder in his head, whether he’s aware of it or not. And the third rule: never make someone hurt themselves or anyone else. I think about that last one all the time. What if making someone hurt themselves is the only way to stop them?

* * *

Dad is standing at the front door when I get home. “Oh, good,” he says, hurrying out to meet me. “You have a visitor.”

I frown as I lift the latch. “Are we talking a flesh-and-blood visitor or one of the ephemeral kind?”

Dad makes a face at me. “It’s the foot soldier, as you like to call her. I just got home to find her standing at the gate like a bloody sentry.”

I look at him and smile. “Are you scared of her, Dad? She’s a kid.”

“With superpowers,” he reminds me, without a trace of embarrassment.

“Did you offer her a drink?”

“Yes, I offered juice. She declined. I half expected her to ask for something stronger.”

I giggle. I shouldn’t – he’s in earnest, and I know it’s wrong to make fun of his lack of supernatural savvy, but the thought of him cowering in the corner while Emily sits in the living room is rather amusing.

Dad glares daggers at me and marches ahead into the house. He branches off towards the kitchen and I enter the living room. Emily is sitting quietly in an armchair, hands in her lap, looking like robot waiting to be switched on. Her back is too straight, her expression too focused. Kids don’t sit like that. Kids slouch, put their feet up, fidget.

“Hi.” I toss my bag onto the sofa and approach slowly.

She stands and turns to face me. “Connie. We need to talk.” Her tone is brusque.

“Why doesn’t he talk to me himself?”

“He’s busy.” The response comes quickly – she was prepared for my question.

“Doing what? Torturing the people he took?”

Emily heaves a weary sigh. “He’s not going to hurt them, so stop worrying.”

“Kidnapping them isn’t hurting them?”

She crosses the carpet and lowers her voice to just above a whisper. “We have more important issues to discuss.”

“OK. Let’s discuss the energy surge.” I fold my arms and look into her eyes. They’re clear, not the glassy grey of someone under control. She’s a soldier, but not a mindless one. “John must be slipping if he can’t find a way to keep his activities hidden.”

The bluff works. Emily’s eyes flicker, widening for a fraction of a second before darting to the floor. I knew it. The Puppetmaster
is
behind the energy surge.

Emily’s mask of calm slides back on and she raises her eyes to mine. She takes a deep breath. “We don’t have much time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re not working hard enough!” She clenches her small hands into fists, glances away and then composes herself and looks at me once more. “You were doing so well when John was with you. You grew so much, and then you got lazy.”

“Lazy?” The gall of this kid!

“Stop wasting time! Stop trying to solve the disappearances. There’s nothing you can do about that. Let it go and focus on your gift. You want to stay at this level for ever?”

Unbelievable! I’m so annoyed that I can barely think of anything to say.

“Your blocking is excellent,” she goes on. “Apart from when you sleep. You still haven’t made any effort to fix that. You think you and John are the only telepaths in the world? An enemy could enter your head and destroy you in your sleep, and you’d never see it coming. Your planting is good, but you could do even better if you applied yourself more. Your progress with the puzzle box is far too slow, and–”

“That’s enough.”

Dad’s voice startles both of us, and we turn to see him standing in the doorway.

Emily glowers at him, hands on her hips. “This is a private conversation, Dr Bennett.”

Uh-oh. Not even I would use that tone with Dad. My gaze rolls from her face to his, waiting for the inevitable explosion. His face turns red, his nostrils flare, his eyes widen. Five, four, three, two…

“How dare you speak to me like that in my own house?” he cries. “Who the devil do you think you are? You think you can just turn up and start harassing my daughter? You go back to your boss and tell him Connie is not one of his puppets!”

Go, Dad.

Emily drops her gaze. “I’m sorry, Dr Bennett.”

Dad deflates a little. “You should be sorry. If you’re going to be a brat you can leave.”

“I won’t be a brat,” she promises. “I’m sorry.”

Dad nods, satisfied that he’s reasserted his authority, then clears his throat and flees to his room.

The second he’s gone, Emily turns back to me with an impatient grunt. “Is he going to be a problem?”

“Probably. But he’s right. You need to tell John that I don’t work for him. He seems to have this crazy idea that I’ve agreed to be part of whatever he’s up to.”

“You think you have a choice?”

“Of course I have a choice.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “God, you are so stupid sometimes! Don’t you get it yet? You’re not just some telepath he picked at random. You’re the Definitive!”

I blink. The word sends shards of fear right through my chest, making my breath come in short bursts. “The what?”

“Forget it.” She’s halfway to the door. “Just work harder. You need to be ready or everything will fall apart.”

I hurry after her. “What does that mean?”

“Your second meeting will be on Friday morning.” She opens the door. “Eleven a.m., the same house as last time.”

I remember my promise to Ntatemogolo. “I can’t make it on Friday. Can’t we do it next week?”

“No.”

“Well, too bad. I won’t be there on Friday.”

She laughs. “If you’re not, he’ll have to do something to force your hand.”

“Something like what?”

She shrugs. “That depends on how late you are.” She turns and hurries away.

By the time I reach the gate she’s almost at the end of the street. Damn it! What will John do if I don’t turn up? There’s nothing he
can
do. If he needs me as much as he claims to, he won’t risk losing me. I should be the one sending my foot soldiers to make demands. I’d do it, too, if I had foot soldiers.

I close the gate and head back into the house. The Definitive. Just saying it gives me chills, and I have no clue what it means. Fortunately I know someone who might. I walk to the phone. A minute later, Wiki picks up.

“Hey, I need a favour…”

* * *

The call comes in the night, long after I’ve fallen asleep. The ringing wakes me, and even though the source of the sound is close to my ear it takes me a minute to remember that I left the phone under my pillow. It’s an unfamiliar number. I answer groggily, hoping it’s not the wrong number.

“Hello?”

Someone exhales on the other end. “Connie.”

I sit up, wide awake now, my heart pounding. “Rakwena?”

He chuckles softly. “It’s good to know you still recognise my voice.”

I smile into the darkness. For a moment I’m too emotional to speak. “You sound exactly the same,” I marvel, when I find my voice.

“You, too. Sorry to wake you. Things are so hectic; this was the only time I could disappear for a few minutes.”

“Are you joking? I don’t care what time it is.”

“How are you?”

“Good.” I hesitate. He’s been through a massive adjustment. I should be supportive and understanding, and not whine about his absence. No, that’s not going to happen. “What took you so freaking long, Lizard? It’s been ages!”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He does sound sorry. “After the induction Serame – our matriarch – decided I couldn’t be released until my father and I called a truce. But he went off with his cell without telling anyone. It turns out they were in Durban – that’s where they grew up. They only got back two weeks ago. And then my mother had a setback.”

My gift stirs as though it’s touched on something interesting, but I’m focused on what Rakwena’s just said about his mother. My mind goes back to my first meeting with Mmabatho Langa. After I pestered him for ages to open up and explain why he lived alone and where his mother was, Rakwena decided it was better for me to see for myself. I had imagined that his mother had left him alone because she was irresponsible, or in prison, or dying in a hospital. I never suspected that she was in a psychiatric facility.

Serenity House is a nice place, as nice as a place like that can be. It’s not cold corridors and anguished screams and people walking around in straitjackets. The day I met Mmabatho she was distracted; it took her a minute to remember who Rakwena was. We sat in the beautiful garden while Rakwena updated her on what was going on in his life. It was difficult to tell how much she heard or understood.

Seeing her helped me understand Rakwena a little better. Of course he was secretive. His father Senzo abused his mother, literally driving her mad. He then pretended to be dead for several years, and didn’t even have the decency to keep up the act long enough for Rakwena to have any closure. I know Rakwena well enough now to understand that he could have gotten past his father’s callous treatment of him, but he’ll never forgive him for what he did to Mmabatho.

“Is she OK?”

“She was getting worse,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft I have to strain to pick up the words, but I don’t want to interrupt to ask him to speak up. “The hallucinations escalated. My father had been to see her. The nurses said Mama didn’t seem bothered by his visits, but I don’t believe that. I keep trying to tell them not to let him visit, but they never listen. Legally he’s still her husband. They adjusted her medication, and now… She doesn’t talk to me any more. I’m not sure she even knows I’m there.”

I don’t know what to say. I long to reach into the phone and pull him out so I can hold him. “Rakwena…”

“Where’s your crystal?” His voice cracks a little on the last word.

I scramble out of bed to fetch it, then sit down again and put it in my lap. It’s glowing softly. “Right here. Have you got yours?”

“Ja.”

He doesn’t need to say any more. The crystal brightens in my lap. I put my free hand over it. “Where are your brothers?”

“Resting. They’re worn out. They’ve been incredible.”

“I’m sure they have.”

“Connie?”

“Hmm?”

“I miss you.”

I’ve managed to keep the tears in check, but now they spill over onto my cheeks. “I miss you, too.”

“I got your email. There’s a lot to discuss. Oh – before I forget – Temper took your grandfather’s letter to the council. I wasn’t allowed to read it so I have no idea what it says, but they’re meeting tomorrow.”

“OK.”

“I want to see you, Connie.”

My heart sings. “Of course you do. I’m awesome.”

“Geez. Some things never change,” he grumbles, but I can hear the smile in his voice. “Look, I don’t know when. I’m not sure they’ll let me come alone.”

“Are they afraid you’re going to defect?”

“
Ag
, who knows?” His reply is a tad too flippant. He knows exactly what they’re afraid of, and now so do I.

They’re afraid of his feelings for me. After his father married a non-drifter against his cell’s wishes, made her life miserable and then abandoned her, Rakwena’s clan is terrified he’ll pursue a similarly ill-advised relationship with me. Of course, there are major differences between the two scenarios. Mmabatho is ungifted and didn’t know Senzo was a drifter until Rakwena was born. Rakwena is only half-drifter, so he has the ability not only to form a strong bond outside his cell, but possibly to sustain it, too. I’m gifted, and I know the truth. But the most important thing is that Rakwena still wants to be with me. Our connection hasn’t faded, as I feared. It’s strong enough to worry his clan, and knowing that thrills me.

“You can sneak out,” I suggest.

He snorts. “Between Temper’s super-hearing, Elias’s super-stealth, Reetsang’s super-speed and Duma’s ability to sense the gifted, I won’t make it past the front door!”

I laugh. “They’ll let you come.”

“How do you know? And please don’t say because you’re psychic.”

“I
am
psychic.”

“You know, technically you’re not,” he points out, in the same pompous tone he used when tutoring me in Setswana, a whole lifetime ago. “Technically you’re not a full medium. Your true gift is telepathy – your premonitions are secondary.”

“OK, OK.
Eish
, you’re as big a pain in the butt as ever!”

He laughs. “Hey, I can’t talk too long – this is Mandla’s phone and I don’t want to finish his airtime. But I’ll get in touch again.”

I want to protest, sob, kick up a royal fuss about how we need to make up for lost time, but instead, like a sensible, independent woman who doesn’t need a man to complete her, I say, “OK, sure.”

“Please be careful. All this stuff with the Puppetmaster makes me nervous. Next time we talk, you have to explain everything to me properly.”

“Relax. It’s under control. Ntatemogolo and I are on top of it.”

He grunts, sounding just like my grandfather. “We’ll see. Goodnight, Connie.”

“Night.”

He lingers a while, then hangs up. That dial tone sounds like the end of the world. For a long time I just sit there with my phone in one hand and the crystal in my lap. I’m sad and happy all at once. I knew I missed him, but it didn’t really hit home until I heard his voice. I need to see him again. I don’t know when or how, but I know we have to come up with something.

I love him. I’ve never told him that. He tried to say it to me and I stopped him, because I’m such a pathetic coward. Love is for grown-ups, people with bills to pay, people thinking about rings and
lobola
. I’m too young to be in love – but apparently my heart didn’t get the memo. So here I am, clinging to a magic crystal, pining over a boy.

I wait until the glow fades completely, then put the crystal back, get into bed and close my eyes. I dream of Rakwena. He rescues me from a skeletal figure in a silly hat. His cell comes after us and we have to run into the desert and live on crickets. The cell tracks us down, and it turns out they were only coming to warn us that the Puppetmaster is finally ready to use us in his evil plan. There’s no escape. Rakwena kisses me goodbye. I wake up with a racing pulse and longing gnawing at my insides.