Crowned (26 page)

Suddenly my head feels heavy, as though I’m coming down with a cold. It’s difficult to think past the fog, just like it was this morning. The Ultima is blocking me again. What is her problem? It’s almost as if she wants the Puppetmaster to succeed. I push past the fog.

No
, she says.

Get out of my way!
The fog swells, making my head ache, and then recedes. For a moment I’m stumped. She listened to me. Could it be that she’s not quite as strong as I thought? Maybe there is only so much control she can exert over her vessel. Whatever the reason, I’m glad she stepped aside.

I rifle through my memory, searching for any information I picked up in Wiki’s notes. There’s a clue in there. Cell phone networks were the first to have trouble. Maybe the warehouse is near one of the network towers. Or near a radio station, or a power plant. There was also trouble with air traffic control, so perhaps…

A tingle spreads through my chest. That’s it. The airport isn’t far from here. It’s close to this house, and not too far from Gaborone North. It’s also far enough from town that the Puppetmaster could set up shop nearby without attracting undue attention. If he set the markers several decades ago, there wouldn’t even have been an airport. It would have been empty land, the perfect place to hide a massive, ancient ritual.

“We’re leaving,” I tell Rakwena. “I think I know where he is.”

He hesitates only a moment before starting the engine. “Where to?”

“Somewhere in the bush near the airport.”

We drive back to the main road and up towards the airport. Once we’re on the long stretch of road, with nothing but dry grass on either side, Rakwena slows down. I let my gift guide us, and Rakwena turns off the road to the left. We park the car, and I decide it would be better to continue on foot. Rakwena and I get out.

“Don’t even think about,” I hiss, as the twins leap out of the back. “All of you are staying with the car.”

“Are you joking?” asks Reetsang. “You think we came all the way here to wait in the car like kids?”

I turn to Rakwena. I’m nervous as it is. “Please talk some sense into your brothers.”

“Connie, we’re in the middle of the bush. It’s better we stick together.”

I lean close to him. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it, and I don’t need to be worrying about them on top of whatever we’ll find at the warehouse.”

“Then don’t worry,” says Spencer, pushing past me and marching ahead. “We can take care of ourselves.”

“Spencer, wait. Connie has a point. You guys have never faced the Puppetmaster.”

Spencer turns to face Rakwena. “First time for everything.”

“We can help,” adds Duma. Sure – they can help by giving the Puppetmaster more gifts to strip.

“I’m pulling rank,” Rakwena declares. “Everyone stays here.”

Elias laughs. “You can’t pull rank!”

“I’m the eldest here.”

“Not in clan years,
bra
,” says Reetsang, and Rakwena’s jaw tenses. “You have to belong to a cell for at least a year before you can give orders, eldest or not.”

Rakwena steps right up to Reetsang and jabs his finger into his chest. “I’m trying to keep you idiots out of danger!”

“And we’re trying to watch your back!” Reetsang shoves Rakwena. “You think we’re letting you walk into this alone?”

I step forward, preparing to intervene to prevent a fight, but then the strangest thing happens. The tension dissipates. Rakwena stands down, Reetsang looks sheepish, and before I know what’s happening they’re apologising and shaking hands. Rakwena throws an arm over Reetsang’s shoulder. The other three approach, they exchange a few murmured words, and then there’s a lot of backslapping and “For sure, man, for sure.”

I clear my throat. “If you’re done bonding can we get back to business?”

Rakwena smiles. “Sure. We’re sticking together, and that’s the final word. Sorry, Connie. The cell has spoken.”

While it’s great to see Rakwena, a former loner, so chummy with his brothers, I still think it’s a bad idea for them to come along. In a perfect world they would have stayed home altogether, but they’re here and it’s clear no one’s going to listen to me.

I sigh. “I’m picking up a faint energy signature. I’m pretty sure it’s the warehouse, so you’ll have to be on your guard. Come on, this way.”

“If the warehouse is the vortex of the Loosening, shouldn’t the signature be stronger?” Rakwena falls into step with me.

“He’s put up concealments to block it. If he hadn’t, a few delayed flights would be the least of our problems.”

We walk a bit further before Duma announces that he can sense gifted nearby. I’m definitely on the right track, then. The only problem is that the Loosening is hidden. We could walk right into it without seeing a thing. I slow my pace, reaching out with my gift. The Ultima has grown quiet, keeping her own power coiled safely inside.

I feel the Puppetmaster now. He’s close, and agitated.
I told you to wait at the house.

I’m tired of doing what I’m told. I hope you don’t mind; I brought friends.

What are you expecting to find here? My secret lair?

You can’t hide for ever.

There’s a pause, almost like a crackle of static.
Come, then. Bring your little drifter army, and we’ll see what they can do.

There’s no mistaking the taunt in his tone. I turn back to the drifters. “Get ready to protect yourselves. I don’t know what we’re going to find in there.”

“In where?” asks Elias.

As if on cue, a large white building appears beyond the high grass ahead, as if it was always there and we just weren’t looking. The Puppetmaster has raised his gate and is beckoning us closer.

Rakwena and I take the lead. The area is quiet, apart from the distant sound of cars and the odd plane flying overhead. The building looks abandoned. It’s a high industrial structure, like an old factory. The white paint is peeling off and the windows are covered in dust and grime. We enter warily. I look up at the exposed rafters in the high ceiling and catch the faintest flicker.

“What is this place?” asks Reetsang, with a note of discomfort.

“That’s not the important question.” Rakwena turns to me. “Is it real?”

I lower my gaze. “No. It’s an illusion.”

“No way.” Spencer runs a finger down one fat concrete pillar. “This feels real to me.”

“That’s the point of an illusion, fool,” says Elias. “If the fortune teller says it’s fake, it’s fake. She knows her stuff.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. If only I’d known developing primal superpowers was all it took to win him over.

“There’s no one here,” says Rakwena. “Connie, can you sense him?”

“No. He’s watching from somewhere else. Somewhere close.” I frown. My gift is on high alert. I sense the minds of the drifters, their barriers stronger than ever, but I sense something else, as well. Not the expected overpowering energy of a ritual. Not even other minds. More like the absence of minds. “There’s something…”

“Some
one
.” Duma’s gaze sweeps the empty space. “Gifted. Low-level, nothing like us, but there’s a lot of them.”

The Puppetmaster’s zombie army. I saw them a year ago in a premonition – a horde of ungifted soldiers, bewitched and given powers the way Emily and the other girls were before I rescued them. That’s the absence I’m sensing – the empty spaces where their thoughts should be, the thoughts that have been hijacked by the Puppetmaster. Because they’re not true gifted their powers use low levels of psychic energy, making them difficult to detect. Even I can pick up nothing more than the weak signature of manipulated energy – a sense that something isn’t as it should be. I glance at Duma. His gift is far stronger than I expected, but that could just be the Ultima’s influence.

“Where are they?” asks Elias in a whisper.

Where, indeed? My eyes move across the dark warehouse, but nothing stands out. No, wait. There’s a figure on the left. More than one. I blink and focus my gift, and the intruder with the green energy wakes up. I guess she couldn’t resist getting in on the action, after all. I feel a rush of energy spilling into my head, bursting behind my eyes and then spilling out of them, illuminating the warehouse. I blink furiously, the light stinging, then open my eyes wide to take in the sight.

I don’t know how we missed them. There are so many – on the catwalk above us, behind the stacked boxes. Figures hiding in the shadows, waiting.

“Uh-oh,” says Reetsang.

“Run!” I hiss, but it’s too late.

I whirl around. The soldiers are emerging from their hiding places, and a crowd of them has already blocked the door.

What the hell is this? An ambush?

The Puppetmaster doesn’t answer. He’s gone off to that place beyond the visible, just out of my reach. I don’t understand. If he wanted us dead there are easier ways to do it.

There’s no time to ponder. The soldiers are closing in, their eyes glassy in the darkness.

“Uh, Connie?” Duma steps backwards, landing on my foot. “What do we do?”

“What do you think? Fight!”

The warehouse erupts into chaos. They leap at us, their expressions cold even as their arms reach out to grab us. I step in front of Duma, shielding him as one comes straight at him, arms outstretched.

Back!

The soldier throws himself backwards mid-stride, toppling onto the floor. Huh. Looks the Ultima is far better at this planting thing than I am. Reetsang zips past me, kicking one soldier and punching another. Blue light goes streaking above my head and three people fly into a pillar. This fight will be good for the drifters – the soldiers are ungifted and therefore perfect conquest material – but Puppetmaster soldiers don’t get weak or tired and they’ll fight through any injury. I have to break his hold on them.

It’s not going to be easy. The last time I did this I worked on one soldier at a time, and even with Rakwena’s help it was a struggle. How am I going to get into the heads of all these soldiers at once, and still manage to fight them off?

I duck as a leg shoots out at the level of my head, then turn around to look for Duma. He’s not behind me any more, but I think he can probably take care of himself. Another soldier comes at me and my gift sends him veering off to the left, tripping over his own feet. Another is right behind him.

Back! Drop! Turn right! On the floor! Back! Down!

There are too many. My gift, supplemented by the green energy, moves quickly through them, but they just keep coming. I can barely focus on one before another comes at me from a different angle. Someone cries out, and a moment later I see Spencer flying through the air towards two soldiers.

Catch him! I tell them, and they do. Badly. One leaps forward, arms outstretched, and the other jumps in front of her. The second one catches Spencer and promptly collapses on top of the other. Another fight ensues – Spencer throws the first punch, then uses his gift, making the two soldiers wobble as though walking on a vibrating tightrope. Satisfied that he’s OK, I focus my attention on one of the soldiers.

A streak of red blurs past me. Reetsang’s speed has increased. I glance back at him in wonder, and pain sings through my shoulder as one of the soldiers lands a punch. I swivel, spin and steady myself, gritting my teeth against the pain. Where is he? My gift tilts my head back. Up. He’s perched on a rafter, preparing to spring.

Before I can plant anything in his addled mind the warehouse trembles and he drops to the floor. Bodies collapse and roll across the floor like pebbles in a jar. I grab hold of a pillar. Even though I can see through the hallucination, my body reacts. I frown at Spencer, watching him stand in the midst of the imagined tremor, hands held out in front of him like an old-school conjurer. The difference between his earlier display of power and this one is ridiculous – the difference between an apprentice and a master.

The drifter’s powers are magnified. It’s the same thing that caused Duma’s energy to burn my skin when he hugged me, the same thing that helped Rakwena use his gift on Emily without working up a sweat. It’s the Ultima, the force that combines gifts and multiplies them tenfold. I glance at the red blur that is Reetsang. Yep, tenfold sounds about right.

“Connie!”

I turn just as a soldier lunges at me. I throw myself on the ground and roll out of harm’s way, knocking over another soldier, then get to my feet. A hand closes over my wrist. I spin, but then I feel the tingle. Rakwena pulls me aside into a corner.

“We can’t take them,” he whispers, wiping blood off his cheek. “They’re too many, and they’re too strong. You need to do your thing.”

I glance back into the fray. “I’ve never broken more than one barrier at a time!”

“You just lit up the whole damn warehouse with your eyes! Whatever that power is inside you, it’s strong. We’ll do our best to keep them busy, but we’re not going to last long. It’s up to you. Or her.”

I nod firmly and swallow my fear. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He leans over to plant a hurried kiss on my forehead, then dashes back to the fight. I stay in the shadows and gather my gift. There’s no way I can hit the soldiers one by one; that will take for ever and they’re all moving so quickly I’ll never get a lock on them. I have to do this the way I got into Ntatemogolo’s book – the way I got into Senzo’s head. The bomb, not the bullet.

Power surges inside me, so strong and overwhelming it threatens to lift me off my feet. I open my eyes, pressing my heels into the floor, and the power relinquishes its hold and subsides.

You’re afraid.

She’s in my blood, in my skin, in the atoms that make up my body. That violent surge of power – it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. It was far stronger than what I felt when I broke Senzo’s barrier, or even just now when I lit up the warehouse. When
she
lit up the warehouse.

But I need her. I can’t do this on my own.

Stop fighting it, Conyza. Don’t be afraid to unleash your gift.

The Puppetmaster’s back. I feel his gaze on me, eager and piercing. I feel his desperate anticipation. I can’t let him have the Ultima. I won’t.