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Authors: Cheryl S. Ntumy

Unravelled (33 page)

BOOK: Unravelled
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On the other hand, if I don’t try to figure out what the items mean, I might never find out for sure what happened to my grandfather or where he is. I make a decision. I start with the copper ring. That sinister numbness I felt when I first touched it has faded, and now it gives off a faint pulsing energy that feels strangely neutral. I go through the objects once by one. Apart from the ring, they all feel cold and blank, just as they did the first time I touched them. I save the watch for last.

I place it in my palm, waiting for it to tell me something, but it’s quiet. That’s when it hits me – the pulsing energy from the ring is a tell-tale sign of supernatural power. The other objects, including the watch, are clean. Not cleaned ritually, the way Ntatemogolo cleans objects heavy with energy, but clean like brand new items straight out of the packaging. It makes no sense – even if no spell had been placed on the items, they should still give off glimmers of emotion, traces from the owners. Especially if the owner is gifted, like Ntatemogolo.

I hold the watch closer to my face, inspecting it. It looks like Ntatemogolo’s watch. It has all the scratches and signs of age. Common sense dictates that it must be his watch. But sixth sense tells me it isn’t. I drop it back into the box. Where’s the real watch, then? Still around Ntatemogolo’s wrist? And if so, where did this watch come from? Where did the other items come from?

A prickle starts crawling up my neck. Something sinister is afoot. My hand moves instinctively towards the little bag containing the tooth. I take a deep breath, then open the bag and shake the tooth into my palm.

The second the tooth touches me I’m gripped by a powerful premonition. My head snaps backwards, my eyes sting and my entire body contracts. My tongue moves instinctively towards the right side of my mouth, pushing against my lower incisor. The tooth is loose. I push and push until it gives way completely and falls behind my bottom lip. Almost simultaneously a hazy image forms in my head. A familiar face in a bathroom mirror, a tooth in a small palm, a soothing adult voice.

The premonition passes. I drop the tooth onto the desk and stare at it, dumbfounded. It’s
mine
.

Chapter Sixteen

Lebz and Wiki sit in my living room. Lebz is staring at me as though I might keel over and die at any moment, and Wiki’s flipping through the File. I had to wait until the weekend to see them, now that they’re back in school, and the passage of time did nothing for my nerves.

“Maybe the premonition was a metaphor,” says Lebz, but she sounds unconvinced.

Wiki blinks and shakes his head slowly. “What would he want with your tooth? How would he even get hold of it?”

I trace my index finger along the side of the magic box, which is sitting on my lap. I suppose I should stop calling it that, now that its magic appears to have worn off. “I don’t know. I suppose he could have looked through our rubbish, or something.”

“Sounds like something he’d do,” Lebz mutters.

“But you were a kid, Connie.” Wiki leans over and picks up the bag containing the tooth. “That would mean he’s been watching you for
years
.”

I’ve been trying not to dwell on that thought. “Why would he bother? I hadn’t even come into my gift then, not really. And even if I had, what’s the point of keeping my tooth?
Eish
, this is getting more confusing every day!”

Wiki is quiet. His features have settled into a thoughtful frown, and I’m dying to pick his brain.

Lebz shudders. “I hope it’s not
muti
.”

“Not everything comes down to
muti
, you know,” I tease, but it’s hard to take this lightly. We’re talking about my tooth, a part of my body, in the possession of a madman with unimaginable power. There’s no scenario in which this bodes well for me.

“I don’t think he took it to hurt you,” says Wiki softly. “There are better ways to do that.”

“Then what?” I ask, exasperated. “I don’t even remember losing that tooth. The premonition didn’t feel like a memory, either, just like a premonition, like someone else’s story.”

Wiki falls silent again. He’s forming another theory. I can almost see the little pieces joining in his head, knitting together in all the right places. “I think…” He pauses to lick his lips. “I think he wanted you to find the tooth.”

Lebz asks the question before I can. “Why?”

“He’s sending you a message.” Wiki shrugs. “Maybe he wants you to know that this war, or whatever it is, goes back longer than you think. Maybe it’s some kind of mind game. To scare you.”

“It’s scaring
me
,” Lebz mutters.

It’s scaring me, too. “But how could he know I’d manage to open the box?”

Wiki shrugs again, his eyes back on the File. “You’re strong and smart. It was just a matter of time.”

I don’t like the direction of this conversation. It’s bad enough that the Puppetmaster is meddling in my life now – I don’t want to think he might have been meddling long before I even knew him.

“Here!” Wiki taps the File. “Supernatural trophies.”

Lebz and I exchange glances. “Supernatural trophies?” I scoff.

Wiki nods. “Like hunting trophies. There’s a something similar in the supernatural world. I found several examples. Like this one – listen. ‘The sorcerers of legend were known for their viciousness. When two rivals met they would wage a supernatural war, sometimes for decades. Eventually the weaker one would succumb, and the stronger one would take his power. The winner would display a staff, ring or other beloved object belonging to the defeated sorcerer. Sometimes the winner would even pull out a tooth or nail to wear around his neck.’” He looks up at me.

I swallow hard. “But he hasn’t defeated me. There was nothing to defeat – I was a kid!”

“It’s just a theory,” says Wiki gently. “Either way, he kept it all these years for a reason.”

I know he’s right. The Puppetmaster always has a plan. But what does this plan have to do with me?

***

There’s no time to investigate further. A day later Kelly tells me, through Wiki, of a job opening on the set of a new local TV show. I’m too thrilled to wonder whether she’s doing it to impress Wiki. Thanks to Kelly I’m one of the first people to apply, and two days after that I’m running around playing gofer for the cast and crew. By the time I get home every evening I’m too tired to cook, let alone work on my magical mystery.

Over a week after the day I took the box from Ntatemogolo’s house, I still can’t track him down. His house is locked and empty, his phone is off and his neighbour says he’s away. Away where?

Dad has taken a six-month sabbatical so he can devote his time to the Salinger project, so he’s far less harried this year. Unfortunately, he’s also far more moody.

“Your grandfather is the most selfish, egotistical man on the planet,” he declares, marching into the house one evening. He slams the front door behind him for good measure, and the stack of papers under his arm slips, releasing several sheets. “Ah, bugger it.”

I get up off the sofa to help. “Bad day?”

“Can you believe he still hasn’t submitted his report?” Dad snatches the papers from my hand and dumps the lot on the dining room table before turning to scowl at me. “It’s months overdue now, and it’s the only thing holding up my preparatory paper. Everyone else submitted their papers before Christmas, and now it looks like I’m slacking. Why does he insist on being such a bloody pain in the arse?”

I’m not sure there’s anything I can say that will soothe him, so I hold my tongue and listen.

“No one can locate the man.” Dad lets out a bark of bitter laughter. “He won’t answer the bloody phone, won’t reply to emails. He’s off chasing goddamn ghosts around the bloody Okavango or something, and he doesn’t give a damn about what’s happening here in the real world! You see why I don’t like you spending so much time with him? He’s insane. He just ups and vanishes whenever he wants and doesn’t think to let anyone know where he is or when he’ll be back.” He glares at me. “Well? Spit it out. Where the bloody hell is he? I don’t care if he swore you to secrecy. Tell me!”

I swallow. I’ve never seen Dad this angry. He was pretty upset the night Rakwena was sick, but this is worse. “I have no idea where he is, Dad. I haven’t heard from him either.”

Dad’s frown dissolves into amazement. “He didn’t tell you where he was going?”

“He never tells me where he’s going.”

“Oh.” Dad runs a hand through his hair. “I just assumed… Sorry.” He frowns. “But doesn’t he usually keep in touch?”

“Not if he’s working.”

“You don’t think…” Dad shakes his head, dismissing the thought. “Lerumo can handle himself. He’s never even been mugged.” He looks at me, and my expression must reveal my doubt because he marches towards the phone and picks up the small address book next to it.

“Who are you calling?”

“His relatives in Serowe. If they haven’t seen or heard from him, then we’ll know something’s wrong.”

I nod. That makes sense. I’m a little ashamed I didn’t think of it myself.

The conversation is brief. Dad hangs up after a few curt words. “They haven’t seen him since September. He told them he was going away on a trip and he wasn’t sure how long it would take. They don’t seem at all worried. They’re used to him up and leaving at a moment’s notice.”

They may not be worried, but I am. Not because Ntatemogolo is out of reach, but because even when he was around, he didn’t go to Serowe. His other relatives haven’t seen him since he returned from that fateful trip. Maybe he didn’t go home because he knew he had been compromised and didn’t want to involve them. And maybe the reason he’s still not home is that he’s decided to take on the Puppetmaster alone.

***

I’ve fallen into a new routine that fills the void left by Syringa. On weekends my friends regale me with horror stories about Form Six, and weekdays I’m at work all day. I love my job. It isn’t exactly challenging, but it gives me a good opportunity to practise keeping my barrier up. By the start of February, I’m up to fourteen straight hours. Too bad Ntatemogolo is not around to congratulate me.

A few days before February thirteenth, my birthday, I’m standing at the photocopier in the production office when someone calls my name. I raise my head from the script I’ve just finished copying and turn to look into the eerily cheerful face of Thuli Baleseng.

“What are you doing here?” My voice is like acid.

“The boss is my cousin,” he replies with casual shrug. “He asked me to come in as an extra for today’s episode. I thought it would be a waste of time, but fortunately I was wrong. You look amazing. Have you done something to your hair?”

“I combed it,” I snap. I haven’t seen this fool in a while, and I was starting to forget his creepy face. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“It’s lunchtime.” He steps into my path, blocking my exit, and I feel that awful flare of panic. “Stay and chat. Don’t be rude to an old friend.”

“We’re not friends,” I spit out, and he grins. Once upon a time I found that smile enticing. I must have been out of my mind.

“I hear your freak boyfriend’s moved to South Africa.” He shakes his head in mock sympathy. “He was so wrapped up in you that I just can’t believe he left you alone.”

I grit my teeth and take a step back to increase the distance between us. I’m sure once he heard Rakwena was gone he was just waiting for a chance to pounce. “I’m not alone.”

“Right now you are,” he drawls and fear slices through me. “Don’t worry,” he adds, and takes a step backwards. “See? You’re perfectly safe.”

My fear subsides somewhat, but I’m not convinced. It’s a little difficult to put my faith in the words of a raging lunatic. “What do you want, Thuli?”

Instead of replying he flashes me another sinister grin. “You two were so good together. It’s a shame. But don’t worry. I’m here if you need someone to talk to. Someone who understands.”

“I’m going now.” I take a deliberate step to one side. To my relief he doesn’t block me. I start to walk away, making for the door of the copy room.

“That’s OK. We have all year.”

I freeze. What does he mean? Slowly I turn around to face him. Suddenly my hands are sweaty. “Don’t tell me a smart boy like you couldn’t get into university.”

He laughs. “I’m going to UB for a year.”

No! A fierce, prickly sensation detonates in my chest and shoots painful shards throughout my body.

He regards me with a smug smile. “My father wants me to take up an internship at his company so I can learn about the business, so you and I will be in school together. Isn’t that great?” He laughs again.

I turn on my heel, planning to make a dignified exit, but the effect is ruined by the fact that I almost lose my balance.

“Careful,” he whispers. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

I keep walking. I take huge, gulping gasps of air to ease the knot in my chest. Damn Thuli. Damn his tycoon father. But the person I’m most upset with is myself, for being weak enough to let him get to me. I shouldn’t care what he does with his useless life, but I do. I want him to pay for his arrogance, his complete disregard for other people. But in real life justice is hard to come by, so I’d settle for having him leave. Now even that is out of the question.

I grit my teeth furiously. If he’s determined to come after me again, let him come. I’ll just have to make sure I’m ready.

***

My encounter with Thuli has left me on edge. I was so sure he was no longer a threat, and then he turns up in the last place I expected to see him, taunting me.

When I get home, yesterday’s papers are lying on the dining table. I pick them up on my way to the kitchen. While the food is heating up I glance at the
GC Chronicle
, which has become a staple in this house due to the editor’s knack for unearthing major stories. I’m not a fan of the rag, but I check it every so often in case something otherworldly turns up.

I flip idly through the paper. When I reach page 5 I freeze. I take in the headline “Daughter of Prominent Lawyer Missing” and the colour photo beneath it. A pretty young girl in school uniform, smiling into the camera. Emily. She looks younger (and far more innocent) than she did the last time I saw her. I knew she was still on the Puppetmaster’s team, but now it looks like she might have signed on full time.

BOOK: Unravelled
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ads

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