Crowned (36 page)

Rakwena glowers at Reetsang. “I’d like to see
you
try to hit a moving target with laser precision!”

“But you’re
not
trying!” cries Reetsang. “You’re not focusing!”

“Come on, that’s not fair,” counters Duma.

An argument breaks out, but it doesn’t last very long. Temper yells, “Quiet!” and everyone falls silent. Instantly. Schoolteachers across the world, take notes.

Temper turns to me. “Hi, Connie. As you can see, emotions are running a little high.”

I nod. “Sorry to put you all under pressure, but it is what it is. You’re doing well, though,” I tell Rakwena. “You’ve really narrowed your focus. You’ll be fine.”

Reetsang mumbles something, and Rakwena’s head swivels in his direction. “Shut up and hold up the cushion,” he grumbles.

I hurry past him; I don’t want to get caught in his crosshairs. I sidle up to Duma, grin at him and incline my head in the direction of the door. The two of us head outside, ducking to avoid Rakwena’s next shot.

“Hey!” he cries, as we dash past. There’s a loud cracking sound; he’s broken a window.

“Sorry!” I straighten up and hold up my hands in an apologetic gesture. “It’s just a crack, look! Not even shattered. Awesome job, really.” I hurry out before he can turn his gift on me.

Duma and I sit on the veranda. “I don’t think you’re going to find anything useful in my head. He was very careful. I saw nothing but the room I was in.”

“Let me try anyway.” He’s right, though. He lowers his barrier, but all I can see are small, narrow memories of a dark room and the Puppetmaster creeping into Duma’s thoughts. I’m about to withdraw, disappointed, when I pick up something. The memory is tinged with something other than fear.

He blinks as I leave his mind. “Anything?”

“You were confused,” I report, frowning. “Why? Was there something strange about the room, or the Puppetmaster’s behaviour?”

His eyes widen slightly – he didn’t expect me to notice that. “I didn’t think that was important.”

“Everything’s important. What was going on?”

He shrugs. “Well, he was in a bad mood. Impatient. I sort of got the feeling that he was scared. He was in a rush, like someone who left food on the stove or something. I thought he was just panicking because time was running out.”

“But it’s more than that,” I whisper. Suddenly Ntatemogolo’s words come back to me, the words he spoke when he first told me about the Loosening, and what could happen if it wasn’t done properly. People could be destroyed. Not killed. Destroyed. I look at Duma. “How many gifted could you sense while you were there?”

He blinks. “Um, I don’t know. Four, I think. No, wait – there was Emily and him as well, so…six.”

“You’re sure?”

He nods.

“There should have been seven. He has five people, and if he stripped one then the person should have come back. But no one’s come back.”

Duma’s eyes widen. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing good.”

It means there’s an excellent chance that one of his victims is no longer with us. They have been removed, as Ntatemogolo said, from the very fabric of existence.

* * *

One day down. I wake up early, eager to get back to work. First stop – Lebz’s place. Wiki and Kelly are there, putting the finishing touches on the information I requested.

Wiki makes one last note, then hands me the File. I flip through the last few pages. It looks spectacular. Not only are the notes comprehensive, there are also several colour-coded illustrations.

“Wow,” I breathe, turning the pages. “This is incredible!”

“Wiki got most of the information, and Kelly and I typed up the notes,” Lebz announces with a touch of pride. “Looks good, huh?”

“It looks fantastic, thank you!” I close the File, thrilled with their work, and beam round at them. “I hope your session with Ntatemogolo went as well as your research.”

They exchange glances. “It was rocky at first,” Wiki admits. “Because of the time constraints we had a group session.”

“For six hours,” adds Lebz, rolling her eyes.

“And how far are you? Can you build barriers at all?”

Kelly grins. “Why don’t you take a look in our heads and see for yourself?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You sound confident.”

She laughs. “I always sound confident, Conz.”

Hmm. “OK. Put up your fences, let’s see what you’ve got.”

It would be easier to do this one by one, but I need to keep challenging myself, so I send my gift out to the three of them at once. The barriers come up immediately. I smile. They’re nowhere near as sophisticated as the ones I’m used to, but for brand-new barriers, formed by ungifted, no less, they’re formidable. I send a telepathic shout-out to my grandfather. He is, hands down, the best teacher in the world.

I make a half-hearted attempt to break through the barriers, and to my surprise they stiffen in response.

“I felt that!” gasps Lebz.

“You were meant to.” I withdraw. The barriers won’t keep the Puppetmaster out, but they’re enough to throw him off. In his weakened state I suspect he won’t bother trying to break them. In any case, blocking is a useful skill to have. “I’m impressed.”

“Your grandfather’s a slave driver,” says Lebz, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t let us rest at all!”

“Is that how he is with you?” asks Kelly.

“Sometimes.” I grin at them. “You guys have been amazing, by the way. I can’t even begin to thank you.”

“You have your whole life to make it up to us,” Lebz assures me.

“What’s going to happen now?” asks Kelly. “When everything is ready and the Ultima has reached full power and the Puppetmaster…you know.”

I shrug. “Hopefully the plan works, the Ultima stops the Loosening and the Puppetmaster disappears for ever in a puff of purple smoke.”

Lebz chews her lower lip. She’s looking at the floor, the desk, the bed – anywhere but at me. “But it’s just going to be you and Rakwena. No backup.”

“I think the Ultima is all the backup we need.”

She nods. “Sure, but…” She finally raises her eyes to mine. “What if you’re wrong? What if she’s on the other side? Or what if she has her own agenda? What if she doesn’t care about what happens to you?”

I smile. “I trust her, and I think she trusts me.”

Lebz looks dubious. I don’t blame her. I’m worried, too. As well as I think I’ve come to know the Puppetmaster, the fact remains that I’m not aware of the full extent of his power, which means I’m not entirely sure what Rakwena and I are up against. This is a man who changed his nature through sheer force of will, who taught himself two gifts – that I know of – by observing others and then replicating their abilities. He didn’t steal the gifts, which would have been difficult enough. He chose the more challenging path. That’s who he is. He pushes himself. If he has found a way to trap the Ultima and he sets it in motion before Rakwena and I have a chance to attack, it’ll all be over.

But my friends don’t need to hear that. I have to be confident and strong for them as much as for myself. I need to act like I’ve got this under control. Fake it till you make it, right?

* * *

My next stop is the drifter house. Rakwena is passed out on the carpet, fully dressed, when I come in. I remember he once explained his unusual sleeping patterns to me – either he sleeps with one eye open, so to speak, or he becomes practically comatose. As I look down on his still figure I can tell this is the latter situation.

“Good luck waking him.”

I look up to see Spencer standing in the doorway, dressed only in a pair of shorts. I try not to look, but he’s right in my face and frankly he’s too beautiful to ignore.

“Could you put on a shirt?” I ask weakly.

He laughs. “Good to know I’ve still got it,” he teases, as though he could ever lose it. Instead of complying with my simple request he comes closer, peers at Rakwena and kicks him hard in the shin. I gasp in horror, but Rakwena doesn’t even stir.

“Told you,” says Spencer. He yawns, shattering his sex appeal slightly, then continues on his way to the kitchen.

I drop to my knees beside Rakwena. He’s snoring softly. I smile and touch his face. He’s lovely like this. Innocent, peaceful – vulnerable. Too vulnerable. I lean close to his ear and hiss his name. Nothing. I shout into his ear. Still nothing. Wow.

My gift approaches his mind. Even asleep his barrier is up, unlike mine. I withdraw and shift position so we’re face to face. I kiss his forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. He tastes of sugar, and he’s still asleep. I kiss his lips again, with more force this time, and next thing I know his arms are moving around me, pulling me against him. Ahem. Clearly that tactic was a little
too
effective.

“Morning,” he purrs, his eyes half open, his lips curled into a lazy smile. His voice is all husky from sleep, and Spencer’s earlier display of hotness pales in comparison. My breath catches in my throat.

“Almost afternoon, actually,” I tell him, trying to extricate myself from his embrace.

His arms tighten around me. “Five more minutes.” He kisses my temple and closes his eyes.

I want to protest. No, I don’t. I surrender, close my eyes and let my body melt into his. After all, we might be dead in twenty-four hours, or as good as. I’ve been trying not to think about that, but now, lying in his arms, I can’t think of anything else. We might not make it. This could be the first and last time I get to kiss Rakwena awake. If the Puppetmaster wins, we’ll be turned into… I don’t know. Living robots, I guess.

He sighs against my forehead, his breath hot. “We should go. We don’t have a lot of time.”

I nod, but make no move to get up. It’s not until I hear Spencer’s snort of mirth that I inch away from the wonderful comfort of Rakwena’s arms.

“Desperate measures, eh?” says Spencer, as he walks past with a mug in his hand.

“Jealous,” drawls Rakwena, with a cocky grin.

Spencer laughs. Rakwena sits up, then gets to his feet and helps me up.

“Remind me never to sleep on the floor again,” he groans, stretching and cracking his knuckles.

I lean into his chest. “You should take a shower. I’ll get you some food.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll shower at home – there’s more space. Let me tell the guys I’m leaving.”

I wait outside near his car, and a few minutes later he emerges. We reach his place in five minutes. I set up while he takes a shower and changes his clothes. After a quick meal, we’re ready for one last practice session.

I’ve produced several photocopies of the notes my friends made – especially the illustrations. I paste one of them to the wall and point at the amygdala, which is highlighted in yellow. “I want you to outline this section here. Can you see the line?”

Rakwena nods, his jaw tense with concentration.

“Good. Follow the line exactly, or as close as you can get.” I feel the Ultima stir.
No,
I tell her.
He needs to do this on his own.

She subsides until I can barely feel her presence. Rakwena stands perfectly still for a long moment before raising his hand. His eyes burn blue. He traces the shape in the air with his finger, and on the paper a thin line appears around the highlighted section. When the line comes full circle the highlighted piece floats to the floor, leaving an amygdala-shaped hole. I examine the paper. The line falls just within the yellow edges. Almost, but not quite.

Rakwena drops his hand and looks at me.

“Fantastic. Now I want you to do it with your hands at your sides.”

An hour later he can draw the line with his hands at his sides and no blue light in his eyes. I applaud, and he takes a weary bow. I walk over to the bag I brought with me and retrieve a plastic model of a human brain, slightly smaller than life-size. I had Dad pull a few strings to get it for me. I set it on the dining table. Rakwena raises his eyebrows, sighs and gets to work.

It’s another two hours before I’m satisfied. We spend another half hour going over the details of the plan, then take a break, curling up on the sofa in each other’s arms.

“You’re going to have to be on your guard the whole time,” I whisper into his chest. “I’m not going to be able to protect you.”

“Hey.” Rakwena nudges me. “
I
should be the one protecting
you
.”

“Says who?”

He shrugs. “Tradition?”

I look up at him. “I’m an eighteen-year-old mixed-race telepath, you’re a nineteen-year-old coconut half-drifter, and we’re about to take the fate of the world into our hands. There’s nothing traditional about us.”

He chuckles. “I can’t argue with that. Still, though. When we get there, to that place between worlds where the Loosening is, I don’t want you worrying about me. You focus on what you need to do, and let me handle everything else. Deal?”

“Deal.” The Ultima’s influence will boost our gifts, but it’s good to know we’re at the top of our game with or without her. We’ll need to be sharper than ever to pull this off.

Rakwena has another meal, downs half a bottle of undiluted orange concentrate and then takes me to Ntatemogolo’s house, our last stop before we leave for the warehouse.

My grandfather is waiting for us in the living room, with the front door ajar. The lines in his face look a little deeper than usual. Rakwena waits in the living room while Ntatemogolo and I go to the consultation room.

“The time has come,” he says, lowering himself to the mat. “Every instinct is telling me to come with you, but I know he will not let me in. If, by some miracle, I were to make it into his world, he would kill me without another thought. And still I want to come with you.”

“We’re going to be fine.” My voice sounds strong and confident, belying my emotions. “We’re ready.”

“Ready.” Ntatemogolo lets out a long breath. “At your age I had barely built a solid barrier, and here you are, marching off to war.” He waves one hand in a dismissive gesture. “But there is no time for all that. I have done what you asked. It involved a visit to Henry Marshall, and another to Duma. I could not find Jafta. It was tricky, but I managed to complete the…Trojan, as you call it.”

Of course he did. There was never any doubt in my mind that he would. I swallow, excited and afraid.