Crowned (17 page)

“I’m sorry to say this,
choma
, but I don’t think Marshall will see you, famous grandfather or not,” says Lebz as we walk towards the bus stop.

Among the ungifted Ntatemogolo is a renowned historian and expert on local folklore and traditional beliefs, but he’s also famous in the world of the gifted as one of the wisest of our kind. No doubt Henry Marshall has heard of my grandfather’s academic achievements – but it’s Ntatemogolo’s supernatural reputation that will draw Marshall in.

“He’ll agree.”

“How do you know?” asks Wiki.

“Because if my hunch is correct, he’s lost his gift, too.”

“But he’s been hiding it all along,” says Lebz. “What if he’s glad it’s gone?

“It doesn’t matter. He’ll agree.”

“But–”

“I get it,” Wiki cuts in. “No matter how Marshall might feel about his gift, losing it must be a shock, especially if he can’t remember how it happened. He’ll want answers.”

Lebz looks uncomfortable. “Maybe you should wait till your grandfather gets home. He’s coming tomorrow night, isn’t he?”

“I can’t wait. There isn’t much time.” I sound like the Puppetmaster.

“What do you mean?” Wiki frowns at me.

“I don’t know.” I take a deep breath. In my mind’s eye I see Jafta’s stricken face, and a horrible sliver of fear slides down my back. “Something’s happening. I don’t know what it is, but it’s bad and it’s moving fast. Don’t you see? My dream is coming true.”

Lebz puts a hand on my shoulder. “But the gifted aren’t dying, Connie.”

“Yes, they are.” I look into her eyes, willing her to understand. “A gifted without a gift is not a gifted any more. The person Jafta used to be is gone! I didn’t think it was possible, but I was in his head and I felt the absence, a hole in his brain. It was…” Hot tears spill onto my cheeks. I try to stop them, but I can’t. They just keep coming, blurring my vision, making my chest heave. I bury my head in my hands.

Someone’s hugging me, whispering soothing words that mean nothing. I feel as though my insides have been scooped out. I was angry with Jafta. I wanted to hunt him down and make him see what a stupid, unforgivable thing he did when he gave Thuli that tattoo. But this punishment is unthinkable.

The tears stop flowing. I raise my head, the despair seeping back beneath the surface as my brain starts putting things together. I remember the Puppetmaster’s implication that the people he kidnapped were guilty. Jafta gave our secrets to a freak hunter. Marshall scorned his gift altogether. I have no idea what crime the other victim committed, but it must be along the same lines. The Puppetmaster has always been disdainful of ungifted and gifted who behave like them – that much was evident from the way he spoke of his family. To him these gifted were not worthy of their gifts.

“Connie?”

I look into Lebz’s face. “He’s doing it to punish them. I have to stop him!”

Wiki frowns. “How?”

I swallow and wipe my face with the back of my hand. I have no idea.

The three of us part ways at the bus rank. Wiki’s reluctant to leave – after my little breakdown he’s afraid I might start bawling again. Once I assure him that I have my emotions in check, he heads towards the Phase 2 combis. Lebz and I continue on our way. When we get off at the bus stop near Syringa, she insists on walking me home.

“I’m not going to fall apart, you know.”

She gives me a sceptical look. “I’ve never seen you like that. I mean I have, but you were a kid and your mother had just died.”

I sigh. How do you explain to an ungifted what it means to lose your gift? I know how it looks in her eyes – sure, Jafta can no longer make magic pictures, but he’s alive and all his body parts work properly. He’s sad now, but he’ll get over it.

“Connie…” She shakes her head and bites her lip. She doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying the wrong thing, but she doesn’t understand why I’m so upset. “Maybe you can fix it,” she says hopefully. “If you find out how it happened, maybe you can reverse it.”

No. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. We come to a stop at the gate to my house. Dad’s not home yet.

“Should I stay with you for a while?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Lebz nods. “If you need anything…”

“Thanks.”

I watch her go, then hurry into the house and sit at the dining table. I take a deep breath and reach into the ether.

I know what you did to Jafta. How could you? Why?

The Puppetmaster’s thoughts are faint, distant.
Because he didn’t deserve his gift. He misused it. He betrayed us. He had to be punished.

That is not for you to decide! Ugh, I don’t care about your rationalisations. How the hell did you do it?

It’s for the best. Think what could have happened if he had found more people like Thuli. Ungifted running around with powers they have no right to, wreaking havoc!

Says the man with an ungifted army!

You’re angry. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.

He’s eager to leave. Too eager. I sense that his attention is divided, as it has been during all our recent conversations, but that’s not the only reason he doesn’t want to speak to me. He’s hiding something, and because his energy is too fragmented to conceal it properly he’s afraid I’m going to figure it out. I keep my suspicions cloaked in the part of my mind he can’t reach. He’s not the only one who can keep a secret.

I thought you valued the gifted.

I’m sorry. I must go. Trust me, this is for the best. They deserve this.

He withdraws, but I think I have my answer. He doesn’t believe what he’s saying. He has far more important things to do than waste his energy punishing gifted. He just wants me to believe that’s what’s happening, because it will distract me from the truth. But what
is
the truth?

I run to my room and take out the bell, then sit on my bed, close my eyes and strike the bowl hard. The sound rings out through the quiet house. I breathe in and out slowly, waiting for my thoughts to settle so the answer can rise up from the surface.

My extraneous thoughts recede, and my mind grows clear and bright, a large hall with high windows that let in the sunlight. It comes floating to the surface. I can feel it on the edge of my consciousness… There. I open my eyes and gasp. It’s so clear to me now it seems ridiculous that I didn’t see it before.

The kidnappings were careless, dramatic and random, the actions of an erratic mind. The Puppetmaster is many things, but not erratic. Circumstances forced his hand. He had no choice, because something happened. Something went wrong. At some point during his careful groundwork he made a mistake, and now he’s trying desperately to fix it before his entire plan falls apart.

I laugh, elation bubbling up in my chest…until I realise there’s something unnatural about my Eureka moment. The bell helps me clear my mind so I can become conscious of connections I’ve already noticed subconsciously. It can’t tell me things I didn’t have the capacity to figure out. It can’t tell me what I don’t know.

But the knowledge I now possess of the Puppetmaster’s mistake is not a product of deduction. I knew he made a mistake because, somewhere deep down, I know what his original plan was. Well,
someone
knows.

I place the bell on the bed beside me. She’s not gone, after all. It was silly of me to think that she would leave just because I asked her to. It’s not as though she asked my permission before coming in the first place.

You’re afraid.

Her voice is exactly the same as before, soft and certain, coming from deep inside me like an echo in a well. The voice of the green-eyed girl in my dream. What is this? Intuition? A result of my growing gift? Clueless Connie getting in touch with Connie Who Knows? Who is she, and why do I keep hearing her? What does she want?

You ask the wrong questions.

I freeze, waiting for her to elaborate. She doesn’t. I take a wary look around me. I swallow. I can smell the damp earth from the forest in my dream. I can hear the water trickle by and feel the cool air on my face. In my mind’s eye I look into the water and see two points of bright green energy reflected back at me, and I know it’s going to get worse. Jafta’s face floats into my thoughts.

He wasn’t the first. He won’t be the last.

My phone beeps, shocking me back into the physical world. I pull it out of my pocket. There’s a message from Kelly. Marshall has agreed to see me.

Chapter Seven

Marshall’s house isn’t difficult to find. It’s the most nondescript building on the street, painted an almost-apologetic beige as though trying to disappear among the large, beautiful houses beside it. I ring the bell and wait.

A moment later a male voice says, “Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Conyza Bennett. Mr Raditladi’s granddaughter.”

“Right. One minute.”

The gate slides open and I enter the simple grounds. The house is big but not too big, nice but not too nice. I get the sense that Marshall is one of those people who feel guilty about being well-off. The door opens and he steps out. He’s short, middle-aged, balding slightly.

He gives me a pained smile. “Miss Bennett. Come in.”

I follow him inside. He’s a typical suit – clothes ironed to within an inch of their lives, shoes polished. He has a stiff, brisk walk, as though he’s got somewhere extremely important to be. This man is all board meetings and quarterly reports. There’s not a mystical bone in his body. I can’t imagine him wielding a gift. He’d be like a tech nerd caught in a sword fight. Forget wielding a gift – he’d probably break it.

I hope
I’m
making a good impression. Since I initiated this meeting it’s my job not to scare him off. I picked the most decent clothes I have – simple black trousers, black flats and a blue sweater – and I pulled my hair back into a fluffy puff at the nape of my neck. I hope I look sensible, efficient and non-threatening.

“I was surprised to receive your message,” he says, leading me to the living room. “I’m acquainted with your grandfather, but not well.”

“Yes, he did mention that.” I take a seat in an armchair. He sits to my right. “I’m sorry to request this meeting on such short notice, but it’s important.”

He nods. He’s anxious – it’s coming off him in waves. “Would you like a drink? Something to eat?”

“No, thanks.” I take a deep breath. “Mr Marshall, I know you’re gifted.”

He blinks. “I’m sorry. I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Sigh! Talk about denial. “I understand that this is awkward, but I need you to be frank. You agreed to meet me because you know my grandfather. You know he’s gifted, that he helps other gifted, and that he is probably the only person who can answer your questions.”

He lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “I don’t know what Kelly’s been telling you–”

“Kelly hasn’t said a word,” I interject gently. “She doesn’t know about you.” She probably does, but no need to send the man into a panic. “Mr Marshall, three gifted have been kidnapped so far. Two of you were returned, and the other victim no longer has his gift. I think you’ve lost yours, too, and if that’s the case, this might be far more serious than we thought. Please, I need to know.”

The house is dead quiet. There’s no sign that anyone else is home – I suspect his family is at church, or brunch, or something.

He looks at me with the slightest crease in his forehead. He clears his throat. “I’m sure you already know the details of my recent…ah…mishap.”

Mishap? It looks like Dad’s finally lost the King of the Understatement title. “I know you don’t remember anything.”

Marshall nods. “It’s just one big blank.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No.” He flashes a quick, nervous smile. “Well, it did, at first. The usual concerns came up – head injury and so on. But a visit to the doctor assured me that I didn’t suffer any physical trauma, so that was that.”

He told the truth the first time – he wasn’t concerned at all. He was thrilled. I can pick up the countless subtle signals he’s sending. Henry Marshall doesn’t like disruptions. What happened to him was a disruption of the worst kind, and remembering it would have meant all kinds of drama. As luck – or the Puppetmaster – would have it, he came home with a clean slate.

“I don’t talk about this,” he continues. He speaks quickly now, eager to get this over with. “It’s a delicate subject.”

I nod. “I understand.”

“I know your grandfather has a reputation for discretion, and I have to assume he trusts you.”

I nod again, though I feel a twinge of guilt for pretending Ntatemogolo sent me. Oh, well. It’s for the good of all, right?

I’m aching to read Marshall’s mind. He’s giving off such strong waves of anxiety that I can only imagine the turmoil in his head, but I’d rather let him tell me what he’s thinking. I wonder what his gift is. Or was.

“You’re right,” he says finally. “I can do things. Unusual things, like you and your grandfather. I’d rather not go into detail.”

Despite my curiosity I’ve decided to give Marshall his privacy, so I make no attempt to enter his mind and uncover his secret for myself. Nevertheless, in the time it takes for him to pause for breath, the knowledge comes to me. Henry Marshall can teleport. I remember Lebz’s remark shortly after he disappeared; she said it was as though he had teleported out of the parking lot. The irony is too much – I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“No one knows about it,” Marshall goes on. “My wife, my children – no one. I’ve always tried to avoid using this…ability.” He takes a deep breath. “There are activities and emotional states that trigger it. Situations in which it is very difficult to control. I assume you understand what I’m talking about.” He waits for my nod before continuing.

“I found myself in such a situation the other day. I waited for the inevitable to happen, but it didn’t. Nothing happened. Even though I’ve become quite good at suppressing this ability, I can always feel it at work. But this time there was absolutely nothing. I was baffled, so as soon as I was alone I tried to make use of the ability, and I couldn’t. I’ve tried several times since, and so far every attempt yields the same results.”