Entwined (11 page)

I wait until she and Laone have left the shop before heading out to find Lebz. She’s browsing through DVDs. When I enter the shop she glowers at me.

“Sorry,” I say sheepishly.

She abandons the DVDs. “So what were they doing? Planting a bomb?”

“Buying energy drinks. Must have a busy night ahead. And Rose is cracking.”

“Cracking?” Lebz throws a wary glance over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“When I greeted her, her eyes changed just long enough for me to see that she’s scared. She wants out, and I can help her.”

Lebz takes my arm. Fear is coming off her body in waves. I can see the disjointed images in her head; vague shapes, dark and menacing. “Connie, you’re playing with fire. I think you should stay out of it.”

“I can’t!” I pull my arm away. “They’re obviously being controlled by someone. They’re just kids, Lebz, not much older than Kena. Can you imagine her under some kind of supernatural influence, walking around like a robot?”

“Let’s talk about this later.” There’s a tremor in her voice.

I don’t want to upset her, so I let her take me to yet another clothing store. But while I’m pretending to admire frilly shirts and chunky belts, I’m constructing a plan. Whatever those girls are involved in, I have to get them out. My first step? Becoming Rose’s friend.

By the time I reach Game City on Sunday morning, the shopping complex is full and the sun beats down without mercy. I glance at my tracksuit pants and hooded T-shirt, and have the sinking feeling I’m going to drown in my own sweat. I could have stayed at home, but the thought of Rakwena mocking me was too much to bear. I have to prove I’m not as weak and unfit as he thinks, even though I am.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk from the bus rank towards the shops. The good news is that my telepathy is back – sort of. Rakwena was right; it’s a lot more subtle. No more uninvited monologues.

Suddenly I hear my name. Well, I don’t exactly
hear
it – I sense someone thinking of me across the parking lot. I turn to scan the cars and see him standing near a silver pickup, looking at me. He must have let his guard down long enough for me to sense him.

“Cool trick,” I say when I’m close enough for him to hear me.

“Thank you.” He looks at my clothes and grins. “I hope you’re ready for the big uphill battle.”

“As ready as I’m going to get.” I jerk my thumb at the car. “Is this yours?”

“My mother’s, technically, but I’ve been driving it since I got my licence.”

“Hmm.” I look up at him. “So how old are you again?”

“How old do I look?”

I shrug. “Thirty-five?”

He chuckles. “Eighteen.”

I wrinkle my nose. “A child, then. Well, come on. Are we driving to the quarry, or do you want to start the torture as soon as possible?”

He laughs long and hard before opening the driver’s door. “I’ll be nice, just this once. Get in.”

I open the door and jump into the passenger seat. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. Like most guys he seems at ease behind the wheel. “Do you drive to school?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. I’m surprised Kelly hasn’t tried to seduce you yet. There’s nothing she loves more than a guy with a car.”

“Kelly? Is she at Syringa?”

I stare at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t know Kelly. She’s the most popular girl in school! Perfect skin, perfect body, only dates rich, good-looking guys. Come on!”

His lips curl into a smile. “I remember her now,” he says, nodding. “Sexy legs, right? Nice hair, nice butt–”

“OK– you know her. Got it.” I’m disappointed. For a second I thought he really hadn’t noticed her. But he’s a boy, after all.

“She’s cute, but not my type,” he assures me. “She’s not very subtle, if you know what I mean.”

I smile. So he appreciates subtlety, huh? Good to know.

It only takes a few minutes to reach the stone quarry at the foot of the hill. There’s a high fence around it and I can hear the sounds of drills and explosives in the distance. Rakwena parks the car and we start towards the path that goes up the hill. There are a few hikers there already.

“This is a terrible idea,” I mutter, taking a sip of water to give me courage.

“It’s a great idea,” Rakwena counters, pushing me forward.

It doesn’t take long before I’m out of breath. I hate hiking. There is never any good reason to go up a hill, especially
this
hill. There’s nothing here except mosquitoes and baboons.

“Drink some water,” says Rakwena, who isn’t even sweating.

Oh, I hate him. I would push him off this hill, but I’d probably discover that he can fly. I stop and bend over with my hands on my knees, trying to recover. When I feel more or less human again, I drink some water and squint up at Rakwena.

“Come on. We have a long way to go.” He holds out his hand.

I put my bottle back into my bag and take his hand. There’s that tingle again. We continue up the rocky path, but after a few minutes I don’t feel tired any more. In fact I’m starting to feel stronger, more alert, as if we’ve only just started our climb. I look at our linked hands. His blue spark is flowing into me, little strings of light piercing my skin and sending a current through my body. He’s giving me some of his energy!

“Hey, you’re cheating!”

He winks at me. “Next time you’re on your own.”

Next time? Is he crazy? “How do you do it?”

He turns to look at me. “I don’t know. Most people don’t feel anything when I touch them unless I want them to, and when that happens it’s not pleasant.”

My heart does a little jump-skip in my chest. “You mean I’m the only one who can steal your energy?”

“I prefer to think of it as sharing,” he laughs. “Besides, it works for both of us. When the energy leaves my body I feel more clear-headed.”

“So I’m a good influence.” I grin at him.

“Whatever. Come on.”

The rest of the trip is a little easier, but I have to keep stopping to catch my breath. Finally, after what seems like another hour, we reach the top of the hill. He takes me to a secluded spot, a giant rock on top of a flat space wide enough for us to sit on. He sinks to the ground and leans back against the rock.

“I did it,” I gasp in amazement. “All the way to the top!”

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” he teases, taking a swig from his bottle.

Yes it was, but I can be gracious. I sit beside him and crunch my apple. He reaches into one of the pockets of his cargo pants and pulls out a 500ml soft drink bottle. He opens it and hands it to me, but I shake my head.

He takes several big gulps, then gets up and takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Take a look at your city.”

“Oh!” I’ve never seen the city from this high up, unless you count aeroplane trips. Gabs is not a sprawling metropolis, but it’s not a sleepy little town, either. It’s a hybrid, a rapidly developing place that manages to be modern yet quaint, busy yet almost empty. From up here I can see many of the landmarks I’ve known all my life.

“There’s the dam,” says Rakwena, pointing to a puddle in the distance. “And that’s the Ministry of Health building.”

“It looks so far away.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” He puts down his bottle. “OK. Time to work.”

I groan. “Who can work in such a beautiful natural setting? Come on, let’s just hang out. We can practise some other time.”

His response is a noncommittal shrug. I finish my apple and toss the core down the hill. Suddenly the hood of my shirt lifts up and lands on my head. I push it back. “Hey. No tricks.”

Rakwena grins. The drawstrings hanging down my chest rise slowly and inch towards him. I laugh at their snakelike movements, and then I’m pulled forward so suddenly I almost stumble. I find that I can somehow maintain my balance while pitched forward. I try to push myself upright.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispers. “I won’t drop you.”

I let out an incredulous laugh. “I’d rather not take the risk.” I start to force myself backwards, then he releases me suddenly and my back slams against the rock. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” he gasps, pulling me forward again.

I can’t help laughing at his dismayed expression. “Maybe you should stick to moving objects.”

He laughs, then turns to look at the city below. From this angle I get a clear view of his scar. It’s a vicious, angry thing, a memento of what must have been a brutal ordeal.

“It’s a battle scar,” he says, turning to face me.

“Oh.” I feel guilty for staring. “What kind of battle?”

“If I tell you, will you stop looking at it?”

“Probably not. Sorry, but it’s a little hard to miss.”

He runs his forefinger down the length of the scar. “It’s ugly, isn’t it? It scares the girls off, but at least it makes people think twice before messing with me.”

“I’m sure the tattoo has a similar effect.” I glance at it. “Why a lizard, anyway?”

He looks down. The image is very realistic, done in black and grey and making use of his dark skin. It’s about fifteen centimetres long, with the head pointing towards his shoulder and the tail curling into a C at his wrist. “Lizards are good luck. Didn’t you know that?”

I laugh. “That’s what my grandfather says.”

“It’s true.” He rubs the tattoo absentmindedly. “They’re protective spirits. Tiny ones lurk around near windows and doors, acting as bodyguards when you’re going through something that makes you vulnerable to darkness.”

I stare out over the landscape and smile. I love the fact that he can talk about reptilian bodyguards with a straight face. Despite my unshakeable faith in all things weird and wonderful, I draw the line at animals that act like people. “You know that everyone calls you Black Lizard?”

“I know. It makes me sound hardcore, doesn’t it?”

I turn to him. “So you’re not hardcore?”

He snickers. “Hardly. I’m not the guy who goes around looking for a fight.”

“But somehow trouble seems to follow you,” I venture, my gaze drawn to the scar again. “You didn’t tell me the story behind that scar.”

He cringes. “I got into a situation. It’s not something I like to talk about.”

“A supernatural situation?”

“Maybe.”

I decide to let the subject drop. I reach over and touch the lizard’s tail with my forefinger and sparks jump from his skin and crackle against mine. I slide my hand down his arm until my palm comes to rest in his. Without taking his eyes off the ground, he interlaces his fingers with mine. We stand there for a long time, staring at the scenery, his energy seeping into my blood. I’m sure what I’m feeling is only a fraction of his power, and that scares me. But not enough to make me walk away.

“This is a bad idea,” says Lebz for the third time, as the two of us enter the school grounds early on Monday morning.

I scan the campus for a familiar face, but there are only a few people around. “Where do you think they hang out? Maybe over there, near Kelly’s spot.”

“No,” says Lebz, with a sigh of resignation. “They like to stay away from people. I usually see them on that bench behind the library.”

“Great.” I pull her in that direction, then stop. “You don’t have to come along. I know this whole thing bothers you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not letting you talk to one of those zombies by yourself. What if she does something to you?” Her hands are trembling, but she’s determined to be a supportive friend.

“They’re not zombies at school. The whole glassy eyes, blank faces thing only happens after hours. I guess their Puppetmaster has to work, too.” I like that – the Puppetmaster. It has a nice ring to it.

Lebz tenses. “You really think someone’s controlling them?”

“I don’t think anyone would willingly turn themselves into a robot,” I reply. “It must be someone else, someone who needs them docile so they can do whatever it is that makes them need so many energy drinks.”

We walk across the almost empty campus towards the library. I have no idea whether Rose will be here, but I hope so. Amantle and Kelly usually arrive just before the bell goes, so we have thirty minutes. Lebz and I walk along the brick walkway in front of the library, then follow it past the building and peer round the corner. There’s only one bench on this side of the building and it’s empty.

Tension seeps out of Lebz’s body. “Too bad,” she says brightly. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Someone’s coming towards the library from the gate. “It’s her!” I drag Lebz towards the bench.

“We can’t sit here!” She looks at the stone bench in horror, as if there are evil spirits rising up from the green paint.

“Sit,” I hiss, pulling her down beside me. “Now start chatting.” I’ve never seen Lebz so stiff. Out of the corner of my eye I see Rose approaching, head lowered, lost in thought. She’s almost at the bench when she notices us.

I wave. “Oh, did you want to sit here? We can move – we were just waiting for the library to open.”

“It’sOK.” She smiles shyly. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” Her voice is warm and soft.

“No problem.” I move over, pushing Lebz’s frozen figure towards the far edge of the bench. “I’m Connie, by the way.”

“Rose.” She sits, leaving a significant space between us. She’s wary – force of habit, I suppose – and there’s still a mental barrier between us, but it’s weaker than the one that operates when she’s under the Puppetmaster’s power. This barrier is a wall of cellophane, distorting her thoughts and emotions but not disguising them completely. I sense a wave of hope, tainted by fear and suspicion. She’s a good girl, in over her head. I don’t think she wanted to be part of Amantle’s group. It probably happened by default, because she’s smart and pretty and knows the right people. I’m almost certain she’s the most recent recruit, and that means her bonds of loyalty aren’t as strong as the others.

“This is Lebz.” I point at the mannequin next to me.

Lebz manages a small smile.

“I know,” says Rose. “Hi, Lebz.”

Of course she knows. The job of a popular girl is to know all the other popular people in school. “You’re in Form One, right? What do you think of Syringa?”

“I like it. It’s a really good school. Not as strict as I expected, though.”

I laugh. “That’s what we thought, too. It’s a trick the teachers play to make us lower our defences. If they think you’re getting out of control you’ll suddenly find yourself suspended without warning.”