Entwined (19 page)

Ntatemogolo nods solemnly. “I’ve heard about people like him. They thrive on discovering the undiscovered. They are dangerous. Be very careful, my girl. And tell your friend to be careful, too,” he adds, with a note of disdain.

“I will, Ntatemogolo.” I clear my throat, eager to steer the conversation back to Ma-fourteen. “What did you want to tell me?”

He looks at me, his eyes bright in the semi-darkness. “The traditional doctors have been talking – it appears there’s a new person in the area. A foreigner. There are many foreign traditional doctors, of course – this is nothing new. But this one is different. When they speak of him, their voices tremble.”

“They’re afraid of him?” I ask incredulously.

He shrugs. “It’s difficult to say how much of what I heard is true and how much is gossip. But there is a lot of mystery surrounding this man. No one knows exactly where he’s from or what his name is or even what he looks like.”

I’m disappointed. “He could be anyone.”

“True. But I know he’s in town, and he has been for several weeks.”

“Which could coincide with the time Rose and her friends started acting strangely.” I look at Ntatemogolo. “Do you think he’s the one we’re looking for?”

“I don’t think anyone should be looking for him, least of all you,” he replies firmly.

“But if he’s behind what’s going on –”

“Let the traditional healers deal with him. If he is guilty, he will be caught.”

“There is no way I’m backing off,” I tell him. “I don’t mean to be disobedient or disrespectful, but Rose is my friend and I promised to help her!”

“You can help her by trying to find out what she and her friends have been up to.”

I close my eyes, trying to keep my temper in check. “Ntatemogolo, I can’t get past the fog in her head. This man has put up some very strong barriers. I need to get the necklace away from Rose, but every time I touch it she attacks me. I know if I can get it from her and give it to you, you can find out what spells he’s put on it.”

“Ah.” His tone has changed now, from stern and anxious to curious. “And you think you know how to get this necklace?”

“Yes. Rose trusts me, and I can get into her head. If I knew how to plant thoughts, I’m sure I could persuade her to give it to me willingly.”

His eyes narrow. “Have you tried this already?”

I bite my lip and hold my tongue.

He sighs. “What have I told you about experimenting with techniques you have not yet mastered?”

“I’m sorry. I was just –”

“You can’t use people as guinea pigs! We don’t know what this Puppetmaster has done to the girl. What if you make a mistake?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Good,” he says, and lets me sweat for a few more minutes before a smile creases his face. “So you want to twist my arm now, eh? You’ve been wanting to learn how to plant and now you finally have a good reason.”

“It’s not like that,” I protest, though of course that’s exactly how it is.

He chuckles. “OK. If you’re going to go around putting thoughts into people’s heads, you should at least learn to do it properly.” He takes a deep breath. “You’re lucky – I’m a bit more vulnerable now. It might be easier for you to plant when I’m weak. But before we start, there are three things you must always remember.”

I nod, impatient to get started.

“One – be subtle. It is better to change someone’s attitude than to force their hand. If you want me to show you the tools in my chest, you don’t plant ‘show me your tools’. You don’t want me to realise I’m being manipulated. I should feel as if I’m making my own choice. You want me to let you in. You want me to see that you’re not a threat.”

It sounds a lot harder than just planting an instruction, but it makes sense. “I understand.”

“Two – always be prepared for the possibility of failure. The mind is a complex thing; there are no guarantees. Your subject might have powers of his own, or he might be a pawn. Your plant might get distorted or it might not take root at all. You might make things worse instead of better. As you get better at planting, you’ll learn to tell when a mind is fertile ground and when it isn’t. Sometimes you don’t need to plant. Sometimes all you need is to look around.”

I nod slowly, taking in every word. I think of Thuli, and what might have happened if I had tried to plant to get him away from me. He would have known right away what I was up to, and it would have made him worse than ever.

“And three – never, ever plant thoughts that will make the subject harm himself or anyone else.”

I frown. “What if someone is about to attack me?”

“There is always another way,” he says. “You can make him drop the weapon or turn away. Your gifts are meant to protect you and others, not to inflict pain. And if it backfires the subject might end up hurting you, anyway. Just follow the rules and you should be fine.”

I nod. “Be subtle, be prepared for failure and never use planting to hurt someone. I won’t forget.”

“All right.” He turns his steady gaze on me. “Then you may begin.”

I have no idea what I want to plant. Ntatemogolo wears an ancient gold watch – maybe I can work on that. I take a deep breath, focus on his face, then close my eyes and hold his image in my head. I make my way into his thoughts slowly, step by step. He’s mildly curious about what I’m about to do, but otherwise there’s not much else going on in his head, or at least nothing he’s willing to let me see. I open my eyes.

Your watch
.
His thoughts flicker.
It has served you well over the years, and it’s still in mint condition
.
He chuckles – he knows where I’m going.
Connie has always loved that watch. She’s a big girl now, able to appreciate a valuable gift. Maybe it’s time
…
I let the thought hang in the air, but Ntatemogolo doesn’t take the bait.
Her birthday is coming up too, and it would be the perfect opportunity. She’ll take good care of it, and you can always get a new one
.

Ntatemogolo smiles. “Well done.”

I release his mind, suddenly feeling very tired. “It didn’t work.”

“Of course not,” he laughs. “But I was expecting it. Generally your subjects won’t know what you’re doing. They will think the thoughts are their own. You should be more subtle – you don’t want your voice to disrupt the subject’s own thoughts. But you did well for the first try.”

I smile, feeling proud of myself. “Thank you.”

“You want to try again?” He flashes a mischievous grin, challenging me.

“Sure,” I tell him, though I know there’s no way I can win.

Rose comes to sit beside me on the bench, lowering her bag to the ground.

“I have some news,” I tell her. “My grandfather has heard about a new traditional doctor in town. We think he must be the one who bewitched your necklaces.”

Her eyes widen with fear. “Who is he?”

I shrug. “No one knows, but we’ll find out. How are you doing?”

She sighs. “I have some news, too.” She throws a wary glance over her shoulder. “Emily wants out.”

“Really?” I let out a little squeal of excitement. “She told you that?”

She nods. “I told her you might be able to help. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” I pull her into an impulsive hug. “I definitely don’t mind. I’m so glad you got through to another one of the girls – this is great news!”

She smiles shyly. “I was worried that I had said too much. She wants to meet you, but she’s still at Hillside. Maybe after school?”

I think for a moment, rearranging my schedule in my head. “How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine.” She runs a hand along the chain of her necklace. “Do you want me to try and remember some more?”

“No, not today.” My gaze slips to the necklace. “We’ll work on it tomorrow. Tell me about Emily. The more I know about her, the easier it will be when I meet her.”

“Are you sure your father won’t mind?” Rakwena asks for the hundredth time, as I lead him into my living room.

“How many times do I have to say it? Dad is cool. Besides, he’s not even here.”

“Not yet,” he grumbles.

Auntie Lydia is inside, drinking a glass of water. “Oh, hello.” She raises her eyebrows at Rakwena.

“This is my friend Rakwena. Rakwena, Auntie Lydia.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He puts on his most charming smile, but Auntie Lydia’s gaze shoots straight to the scar.

“What happened to your face?”

Rakwena’s smile falters. “I had an accident.”

“Ah, shame.” She shakes her head and tuts in sympathy. “And such a handsome face. At least you’re alive. Thank God for that, eh?” She beams at him suddenly, and I watch his expression change from reserve to confusion.

Poor thing – he’s not used to such forthright people. I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Are you leaving now, Auntie?”

She nods. “There’s food in the fridge. Give some to your friend. And tell Ray I won’t be in for the rest of the week – I’m going home for a funeral.”

“I’m sorry. Who passed away?”

“Don’t be sorry, my darling – it’s my uncle.” She makes a face. “He was a nasty character and I’m surprised he lasted this long. But blood is blood, eh? We must pay respects.” She shoots one last curious glance at Rakwena. “Bye!”

Rakwena watches her leave, his expression puzzled. “I don’t think she likes me.”

“She likes you,” I counter. “If she didn’t, you’d know about it. Hungry? Wait – stupid question.”

“Are you making fun of me, Connie?” He leans against the counter and grins.

“Never!” I open the fridge and inspect it objectively. “There are leftovers, but if I give them to you there’ll be nothing left for Dad to eat. So how about sandwiches? There’s a whole loaf of bread, and eggs, and lettuce and tomatoes and cheese…”

“Perfect.” I’m pretty sure I can hear his stomach growling. “Can I…?”

“Help yourself.” I take a few things out of the fridge while he reaches for the bread, chopping board and a knife.

By the time I’ve made my cheese and tomato sandwich, he’s made four and put a pan on the stove, where a six-egg omelette is sizzling. I half expect him to start eating the plates and cutlery, too.

After lunch we settle down at the dining table with our books spread out in front of us. We only spend about half an hour on them, though – there are much more important things to discuss.

“So you think this planting thing will work on Rose?” asks Rakwena, slurping up his fourth glass of orange squash.

“I think I have a good chance. The problem is getting past the Puppetmaster’s barrier.”

Worry creases Rakwena’s brow. “This Puppetmaster sounds like a serious sorcerer.”

I giggle. “Sorcerer? What do you know about sorcerers?”

He gives me a look. “An evil sorcerer can be very dangerous. His greatest ambition is to push the limits of the supernatural and become as powerful as possible. He’s not about solving family issues or finding lost livestock. He’s a self-serving egomaniac with magic on his side.”

I sober up quickly, unnerved by his tone. “I get it. He’s dangerous. But I’m not letting this go.”

“I know.” He reaches for my hand across the table, and I feel power flow through his fingers. “We’ll have to be careful. We’re making enemies. First Thuli, now this Puppetmaster…”

I roll my eyes. “Relax, Lizzie.”

“Don’t call me that.” He clicks his tongue and glares at me. “You should be practising your planting.”

“You’re right, Lizzie – I mean Rakwena.” I smile sweetly. “But I have no subject. Unless you plan to let me into your head, which would be a first.”

He leans back in his chair. “Go for it.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Really?”

He nods, but there’s a sly look in his eyes and I suspect he’s only going to give me partial access, like Ntatemogolo.

“OK.” I take a deep breath and get into the zone, then make my way into his head. There are many blurry areas, and others that are so dark that I don’t dare venture towards them. I focus on creating a sense of trust.

You trust Connie. She’s your friend, your fellow-freak. There’s nothing you can tell her that she won’t understand. There’s nothing about yourself you can’t share. Your concerns, your insecurities, your history, your family…
A wall goes up, blocking me instantly. I find myself in darkness, the way ahead barricaded. I keep my eyes closed.
It’s just me, Rakwena. Connie. You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to hide. You can talk about your life. You can talk about your mother…

“That’s enough,” he snaps suddenly. The wall advances towards me until I feel my mind relax and loosen its grip on his.

I open my eyes with a sigh. “I didn’t get anywhere. You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“Not if you’re going to play games like that.” Blue sparks dance in his irises.

“I’m not playing games,” I protest. “I just want to get to know you. After everything that happened at the party, I thought we trusted each other.”

He hesitates. “We do.”

I fold my arms on top of the table, annoyed. “You’re sitting in my house, minutes away from meeting my father, and I still know nothing about your family.”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“
Me?
” Wow, this guy is something else. He’s the one with the secrets and I’m being difficult?

“You’re pushing!” he cries, his hands clenched into fists. “Why do you have to do that? Just leave it alone!”

I hear Dad’s car pull up outside the house. “My father’s here.”

Rakwena doesn’t respond. He’s trying to get his emotions under control. I watch the spark fade from his eyes. Slowly he unclenches his hands and rests them on the table.

The front door opens and my father walks in. He stops in the doorway and stares at us with a combination of dismay and surprise.

“Hey, Dad,” I say brightly. “Oh, this is Rakwena.”

Dad composes himself quickly and manages a polite smile. He puts down his briefcase and the stack of assignments he’s carrying, then pushes his glasses higher up on his nose. “Oh, yes. Hello, Rakwena. How nice to finally meet you.”

Rakwena stands up, almost knocking over his chair in his haste to make a good impression. He smiles and holds out his hand. “A pleasure, Dr Bennett.”