Unravelled (30 page)

Now I’m starting to panic. “Why? What are they doing to Ntatemogolo? Are they going to hurt him?”

“They’re going to persuade him to listen to reason.” Temper winces. “And you’re the leverage they’re going to use.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “So if he refuses again, what happens? You’ll rough me up? Kill me maybe, and send me home in a black bag?”

“Of course not,” Temper growls.

I don’t know why he so offended. He’s already had me lured here under false pretences, and is holding me hostage while the council tries to bully my grandfather into giving them his serum. Violence is just the next step. Honestly, I can’t figure out where to slot these guys. Good, bad, undecided?

“It won’t come to that,” says Duma in a tremulous voice.

“You don’t know how stubborn my grandfather can be. It took him months to create that serum – he’s not just going to throw all that work away.”

I’m angry now, furious with all of them for playing so many games. Maybe I was too hard on Rakwena – clearly secrecy is in his genes. Forget the fact that they used me – twice. Now they’re messing with my family, and that’s just not cool.

“You’re going to have to hurt me,” I tell them. I look Duma straight in the eyes. “And I’ll put up a fight, so you’ll have to be tough. I hope you’re up for it.”

Duma flinches and averts his gaze.

Temper glares at me. “No one’s getting hurt – your grandfather will never take that chance. At any moment we’ll get a call and you’ll be free to go.”

“What if she’s right?” It’s Elias. He’s been far too quiet over there by the door.

“She’s not,” says Mandla. “Everything’s – ”

Silence. They’ve all frozen in their positions as if they’ve been put on pause. I stare at them, wondering what I’m missing.

“Did you feel that?” Duma whispers.

Slowly the others begin to thaw. Elias turns to the window. I hear the sound of an engine. It stops outside, and a door opens and closes. Is it someone from the council?

“What?” I leap up from my chair. “Are you expecting visitors?”

Not one of them even deigns to look in my direction. Temper taps Mandla’s shoulder, and Mandla hurries out of the room and down the corridor. Obviously no one is going to tell me anything, so I march to the kitchen door and open it. Elias grabs my wrist, but doesn’t try to pull me back. Instead he leads me across the veranda and round to the front of the house. We stop a short distance from the gate and stare.

There’s a familiar car parked outside, and a familiar figure is opening the gate and walking towards us. He doesn’t see us at first; his eyes are on the ground, his expression grim. Elias drops my hand.

“You’re here,” he gasps.

Rakwena stops in his tracks and raises his head. “Sorry I’m late,” he replies wryly.

Chapter Fourteen

Rakwena walks into the house after Elias, with me bringing up the rear. Elias is babbling. It’s a little embarrassing.

“Are you hungry? There’s food. We have lots of sweet things, we were stocking up, just in case. There’s chocolate and cake and ice cream… Anyway this is the kitchen, help yourself. Oh, wait, we should go to Temper first, you know, protocol…” His voice trails off when we reach the living room.

Everyone is there; I guess Spencer and Reetsang have been given parole for this special occasion. They stare at Rakwena in shock, then everyone starts talking at once. After a moment they remember the hierarchy and the others fall silent, leaving Temper to take over.

“Welcome, brother.”

I sense Rakwena tense beside me. I remember the fisticuffs between him and Senzo, and hope I’m not in for another episode of drifter fight club. I didn’t mind him punching his father, but despite their actions, I really don’t want to see him fight the other drifters.

“You play dirty,” he sneers. “Taking Connie to force her grandfather’s hand was low, even for your kind.”

I shoot him a glance. “Your” kind? Someone is clearly still in denial.

“We had no choice,” Temper replies. He’s not offended. None of the drifters are. They’re gazing at Rakwena as though he’s a rock star dropping in to sign autographs.

My gaze drops to Rakwena’s fist. Blue sparks have formed already, and he’s barely been here five minutes. I put my hand over his fist and slowly his hand opens up, allowing me to interlace my fingers through his. As his power moves through me, I can sense his agitation. All his walls are up, and he’s fighting so hard to keep them that way, but it’s not working. Now that the serum is out of his system, the bond is too strong.

I look into his face and I can see the turmoil in his eyes. I stay out of his head, but I can still sense all the emotions at war within him. He’s angry, scared and confused, but underneath all that is a flash of something lighter. Joy. He knows he’s home – and wishes he didn’t. His fingers tighten around mine.

“We’re not like your father,” says Duma softly.

Rakwena’s gaze lands on him, and immediately softens. I have to smile. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who is putty in that boy’s hands.

“That remains to be seen,” says Rakwena. “Well, you wanted to talk, right? So let’s talk. You can let Connie go.”

“I’d like to stay, actually,” I pipe up, but Rakwena shakes his head.

“This is between me and…my cell.”

I release his hand reluctantly. “Will you be OK?”

“They won’t hurt me,” he assures me.

“I’m more worried about
you
hurting
them
.”

He shoots me a baffled glance. It reminds me of the looks on the faces of his brothers when I told
them
not to hurt
him
. It seems like ages ago now.

“I’m going.” I move towards the door, but no one is interested in the telepath anymore.

I should make sure my grandfather’s OK. I take one last look at them, watching them settle into their seats. Rakwena fits right in. I can see the resemblance now that they’re all together. It’s weaker, because despite inheriting his father’s face he still has a lot of his mother in him. But it’s there, the evidence that these seven guys are part of the same family. How on earth did I miss it for so long?

I linger for a moment, watching them assess each other, longing to sit in on the conversation, then let myself out and head for Bontleng.

***

Ntatemogolo is sitting in an armchair, puffing furiously on a cigarette. He glares at me when I open the door, then visibly relaxes when he sees that it’s me.

“Connie,” he breathes around the cigarette.

“Ntatemogolo.” I sit on the floor beside him. “How are you?”

“How do you think?”

I gulp. “What happened?”

He looks at me. “The boy was here when the messenger came, and as soon as he heard that you were with them, he left. I didn’t have to say a word. It’s obvious how deeply he cares for you.”

I clear my throat, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “You didn’t tell me the council spoke to you about the serum.”

He blows out a plume of smoke. “I am not required to tell you everything. You would only overreact. It was a brief meeting. The messenger came, we spoke. He was rude and arrogant, so I chased him away.”

I frown. “Why didn’t they just call you? Why send someone all the way over here just for a chat?”

“He was already here.” Ntatemogolo drops the cigarette into the ashtray on the table and promptly lights another. “He was supposedly sent to keep an eye on those boys, so the council asked him to speak to me. A poor choice. He is far too involved.”

I blink, catching on. “They sent
Senzo
?” He glares at me and I hasten to correct myself. “I mean Mr Langa. Why would they do that? Oh, no – what happened when he found Rakwena here? Was there a fight?”

Ntatemogolo gives me a cold look, and I mentally berate myself for even thinking he’d allow a pair of drifters to brawl in his house. “There were some words exchanged, and the boy left. That’s all.”

Kudos to Rakwena for keeping his cool. I can’t imagine it was easy, especially now that he’s off the serum.

“And the serum?”

“I have it, of course. They have no right to confiscate my work. I assured Langa that I would keep it safe and never administer it again. The boy agreed to return to the cell, so there is nothing more to discuss.”

I nod, relieved, and ignore the painful stab in my chest. It’s for the best. Rakwena needs to be with his family, and I need to get on with my life. I’m not the first girl in the world to lose a boy she loved, and I won’t be the last.

Ntatemogolo and I sit in silence for a long while. After some time he gets up and walks to the door.

“I have a job to do,” he tells me. “Come. I’ll take you home.”

I look up in surprise and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“I’m not heartless,” he grumbles. “It’s been a difficult day. Are you coming, or would you rather find your own way?”

I leap to my feet, not about to let a free ride slip through my fingers. It
has
been a difficult day. Hell, the past couple of months have been difficult. I wish I could run away. I wish I could be tough and suffer well. I wish I could be philosophical and detached, all sunshine and daisies and everything-happens-for-a-reason.

The drive is quiet; my grandfather and I are both lost in our thoughts. When he pulls up outside the house I thank him and open the passenger door.

“Conyza.”

I turn to him.

“No matter what happens, don’t turn your back on the boy.”

There it is again, that uneasy feeling. This is not like Ntatemogolo. He knows how close me and Rakwena are, he cares about us, but he’s no romantic and he would never set love above duty. Yet this is the second time he has tried to push me and Rakwena back together. Why?

He sighs. “I am not happy about the way he has handled things, and I know he has hurt you. But there is something powerful at work between the two of you, and there must be a reason for it.”

I stare at him. I don’t even know how to respond. I’m confused. “I…I’m not turning my back on him. He just has a lot to sort out right now.”

Ntatemogolo nods, apparently satisfied. “Go.”

I jump out of the car, mutter my farewell and run inside. Dad’s standing at the computer, waiting for the printer, and his briefcase is all packed on the dining table. He must be on his way out.

I don’t care. I’m tired of being strong – or pretending to be. I walk up to him.

“What’s the matter?” he asks in alarm. “What happened?”

I can’t answer. The urge to cry is heavy in my chest.

“Connie!” He drops what he’s doing and wraps me in his arms. “What happened, love?”

The floodgates burst open and I sob into his shirt. I haven’t done that since my mother died. After that kind of grief it seemed stupid to cry over other things, and soon I thought I was too old to go running to my father. I thought it would be awkward, but it feels good.

“It’s OK,” he whispers, rubbing my back. “It’s going to be fine.”

And even though right now I feel mangled and broken, I know he’s right.

***

The holidays always suck, because Lebz is usually off vacationing with the family and Wiki often goes home to Cote d’Ivoire. This time Wiki’s sticking around, but he seems to suddenly have a very active social calendar.

“What exactly is he so busy with?” I ask Lebz, as we walk through Riverwalk mall, licking ice cream cones. She’s hunting for a new swimsuit for her Cape Town trip. I have her to myself for a week before she deserts me for the sun and surf.

Lebz rolls her eyes. “What else? Books. He’s always going to the library or something. When I called his house the other day his sister said he’d gone to a Literature Club meeting. I mean, what the hell is Literature Club?”

I nod thoughtfully. I’ve had the same problem. Whenever I call him he’s either whispering because he’s in a library or he’s too busy to talk.

“He’s hiding something,” Lebz decides, before biting into her cone.

I laugh. “Wiki doesn’t hide things. That’s our area.”

“I’m telling you.” She flops down on a bench. “He’s up to something. When has Wiki ever been too busy to see us? Never, in all the years we’ve known him!”

She has a point. “So you think he’s building a military robot or something?”

She gives me a look. “
Choma
, please. I think he has a girlfriend.”

I almost choke on my ice cream. “Girlfriend? Wiki? Impossible.”

“He’s a boy. Smart, but still male.”

I shake my head, amused by the trajectory of her thoughts. Where would Wiki even find someone smart enough for him? “If he had a girlfriend he would have told us.”

“Not if he thinks we wouldn’t approve.” Lebz’s eyebrows are jiggling up and down like dancing caterpillars. “I haven’t seen Kelly in weeks. She wasn’t at the party last week, she didn’t come out with Botho, Tebatso and me the other day and she’s never at home. Her phone is always on voicemail, and when I called her house this morning, her stepdad said she went to the UB
library
.”

I roll my eyes. “We’ve been through this! They’re just friends – they said so. I mean, Wiki and Kelly? No!”

“Why not? Didn’t you notice how chummy they’ve been getting? Trading books, being all flirty and stuff?”

Yes, but…he’s Wiki and she’s Kelly. “She’s not his type! He’s not her type. They have nothing in common!”

Lebz shrugs. “Opposites attract. She’s told me that she’s tired of dating bad boys after Spencer, so maybe Wiki is her knight in shining…glasses.”

I fall silent, reeling from the possibility. “Wiki does love people he can share his books with, people who soak up his knowledge. But…” Kelly, dating Wiki? Ugh.

There’s only one way to get to the bottom of this mystery. From the mall Lebz and I head straight for Wiki’s house. He’s not home, so we wait. His mother insists on feeding us, then goes out, leaving us to keep an eye on his little brother Jean-Paul. We put on an animated DVD for Jean-Paul, then sit at the dining table and chat.

Wiki gets home about an hour after we arrive – and he’s not alone. Lebz and I stare in shock as Kelly waltzes in and Jean-Paul runs to greet her. I can’t believe this. She’s met his family?