Unravelled (17 page)

We step into a clean, unremarkable kitchen, and he deposits the shopping bag on the counter beside the sink. I swallow my disappointment and follow him into an equally ordinary living room. Although the house is old, the furniture looks brand new. There’s no one inside.

Duma turns to me. “Please, have a seat. They’re probably all in the office, messing around on the internet or something.”

“Office?” I ask, surprised.

“Ja – Temper and Mandla have turned one of the rooms at the other end of the house into a temporary office, so they can get a few jobs while we’re here.”

I blink. “What sort of jobs?”

“They’re into multimedia and design. You know, graphics, web design, that sort of thing. I’ll get them.”

He disappears into the corridor, leaving me feeling vaguely foolish. I never thought about what the two elder members of the cell did for a living. Obviously six people have to be clothed and fed, and gifted or not, money doesn’t fall from the heavens. But had I considered their livelihoods, I must admit that something as humdrum as multimedia wouldn’t have occurred to me. I would have expected them to be…I don’t know…stockbrokers or astrophysicists or actors.

I lower myself into an armchair, evaluating my second disappointment of the day. Ordinary house, ordinary jobs. I run my hand down the side of the new but ordinary armchair. This isn’t exactly the big supernatural event I had envisioned.

I don’t hear Elias enter. I look up and he’s standing in front of me, scowling. I gasp, startled. How did he get so close without my noticing?

“Finally got your way, fortune teller,” he sneers.

Fortune teller? Is that the best he can do? I look up into his face, reminding myself that this upstart is younger than me. Only by a year, but a year is enough. “Good to see you, too. By the way, nice gift. You know, the whole sneaking up on people thing. It
is
your gift, isn’t it?”

He glares at me and moves to stand at the far end of the room, next to his twin. The rest of the group file in and take up positions around the room. Duma comes to stand beside me, but everyone else seems keen to keep their distance. I may have been invited into the inner sanctum, but I’m still an outsider. The only person missing is Temper.

No one speaks while we wait for the leader. Everyone just stares at me with dark, almost black eyes. Temper enters the room and sits on the sofa beside Mandla.

“Hello, Connie.”

“Hi, Temper.” My voice comes out hoarse, and I realise exactly how nervous I am. I clear my throat.

“Excuse my family – they seem to have forgotten their manners. Welcome.”

I swallow. “Thank you.”

“Duma tells me you already know everyone’s name, so I’ll begin by telling you what we know,” says Temper. “You’re Conyza Bennett, a medium and a telepath.”

Elias releases a derisive snort.

Temper ignores him and carries on. “You are acquainted with a girl named Kelly, with whom Spencer had a brief association.”

“Association?” I blurt out. “That’s what you’re going with?”

The look he gives me shuts me up. “The relationship, as you know, is over. But you want information about us. We’re happy to provide it, as long as you give us something in return. Any questions?”

I lick my lips nervously. “Lots, but I already know what you are.”

“
What
we are?” Elias repeats with a cheeky grin. “And what is that? Good-looking, brilliant, talented?”

“All of the above,” says Spencer, and Elias laughs.

“Stop it,” says Duma wearily.

There’s silence. The twins exchange wary glances, but everyone else keeps their eyes on me. No one speaks; they’re deferring to Temper.

It takes him a while to react. His face twitches as he looks at me, as if he wants to scowl but isn’t quite sure it’s warranted. “What is it that you think you know, Conyza?”

“Call me Connie.” I take a deep breath. What happens if I’m wrong? Nothing, I suppose – they’ll laugh at me and then relax, secure. But what if I’m right?

“She knows nothing,” sneers Elias.

“Quiet.” Temper is still looking at me. “Don’t worry; no one will hurt you. Just tell us your theory.”

I swallow. “Well, uh…you’re…that is, I think you’re…inkolosi.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath – I think it came from Spencer. Duma stiffens beside me, and I can tell from the expressions on their faces that I’ve said the wrong thing.

“You’re
not
inko – ”

“Quiet!” growls Temper. He glares at me, his features hard. “If you say that word in my presence again, it will be the last thing to come out of your mouth. Understood?”

I gulp and nod, fear prickling at the back of my neck. In the ensuing silence my gift does its thing, reading the energy in the room. My fear begins to fade. I didn’t say the wrong thing, I just said it in the wrong way. I exhale slowly. Though he objected to the word “inkolosi”, Temper didn’t contradict my theory. I consider the other terms Ntatemogolo mentioned: drifters and desmodons. “Desmodons” sounds like a type of dinosaur and I have a feeling they won’t appreciate it.

“Let’s try that again,” I suggest, my voice shaky. No one protests, so I continue. “I think you’re drifters.” I say the word slowly, gauging the reaction.

The tension dissipates instantly. Wow. I should tell Ntatemogolo that the term “inkolosi” is most unwelcome among the, uh, inkolosi. I guess it’s like the word “freak”, which doesn’t bother me, but certainly bothers my grandfather.

“I told you,” says Duma softly, and there’s something I didn’t expect to hear in his voice – admiration.

I look around at the faces of the others. Elias’s expression is stormy, Reetsang’s shocked. Spencer looks guilty, as if he feels responsible for blowing their cover, but Mandla and Temper both look calm, almost resigned.

“Well,” says Temper, exhaling slowly. “Well.”

I feel a powerful urge to break the uncomfortable silence, to put them at ease. “It wasn’t anything that you did. You were very difficult to figure out. I just sensed that you were gifted, and after that I couldn’t let it go.”

“A dog with a bone, just like I said,” says Elias, but some of the resentment has left his tone. “I’m sure Duma was a lot of help.”

“Duma didn’t tell me anything.” I glance up at Duma. He’s looking at Temper, his brow furrowed slightly.

“No one is blaming Duma,” says Temper, and Duma relaxes. “You’re obviously a smart girl. Now, you said you had questions. If I consider them relevant, I’ll answer them. If not, I won’t. Everything you hear is confidential.”

I nod. Fair enough.

He looks at me sternly. “Understand me, Connie.” His voice is very, very soft now. Fear ripples through me. “If I find out that you have betrayed our confidence, I am well within my rights to take action.”

I gulp. “What does that mean?”

“It means if you open your mouth, you’re dead,” hisses Elias.

Temper shoots him a glare that makes him crumple into the wall. “It means if you tell people about us, there will be consequences. I’m sorry – that’s just how it works.”

I take a deep breath. “My friends Lebz and Wiki already know. And my grandfather.”

The inko – the drifters exchange glances. All but Temper, who regards me calmly. “Then it’s your responsibility to make sure they don’t talk, or the consequences will apply to all of you.”

I nod. Wow, these guys aren’t fooling around. I feel like I’ve walked into some kind of street fight and if I put a foot wrong I’ll get a magical bullet in my chest.

“Good.” Temper nods. “Your questions.”

I clear my throat. Where do I start? There are so many things I want to know. “I guess we could start with Spencer.” I turn my gaze to him. “I’m told drifters like to keep a low profile and avoid relationships, but he did the opposite. Why?”

He hangs his head and turns to face the window.

“Spencer…” Temper takes a breath before continuing. “Spencer has always been the most impulsive member of the family, but his recent behaviour isn’t typical. At the moment we are facing some…challenges. These challenges affect all of us, but they affect him the most.”

I frown at Spencer, then turn back to face Temper. “So these problems are the reason he was with Kelly?”

Temper nods stiffly.

I’m tempted to ask what these “challenges” are, but I don’t want to push my luck. “Why did you come here?”

A long silence. Elias is so tense I’m afraid he’ll crack and shatter into pieces.

“Me and Temper have business here,” says Mandla. He sneaks a questioning glance at Temper, but the bigger guy shows no sign that he minds his brother taking the reins on this one, so Mandla goes on. “We knew people who had a house we could use.”

“So why did the others have to come?”

“We always move together,” says Temper. “That’s how it works.”

“OK. But you didn’t just come for business, did you?”

The long silences are starting to tick me off. I take a deep breath, willing myself to be more patient. These people have been keeping their secret all their lives – it’s only natural that it would be difficult for them to open up now, especially to a stranger.

After a while Temper heaves a sigh of defeat. “There’s something here that can help solve our problem.”

“Or some
one
.” Everyone flinches at my words. “Rakwena. Right?”

No one says a word. They stare at me, poker-faced.

“What do you want from him?”

No answer.

“There must be a way we can sort this out,” I say, frustrated by their silence. “Tell me what you want, and maybe I can help you. You don’t have to hurt Rakwena.”

“
Hurt
him?” Mandla glances at Temper, his face a mask of confusion. “Why would we hurt him?” There’s no mistaking the indignation in his tone.

Now
I’m
confused. I considered the possibility that they might deny it, but I never expected them to take offence. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Assumed.” Elias glares at me.

“But…” I remember Rre Sechaba’s concern over the strangers lurking outside the house. I remember the way the Cresta Crew looked at Rakwena that day in Game City, and the way he reacts whenever I mention them. I remember the fear in his eyes. Why are they playing innocent?

Temper sighs. “We’re not going to hurt him.”

“Then why is he so scared of you?” I blurt out, and immediately feel like a traitor for saying it.

Duma’s face crumples and he turns his head away. Spencer comes over and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. I stare at them in dismay. What the hell is going on?

“He doesn’t trust us,” Mandla murmurs. “Like you.” It sounds like an indictment.

I open and close my mouth a few times, too stunned to speak. This makes no sense. Rakwena doesn’t scare easily. There’s no way he would be afraid of these guys if they weren’t a threat. And yet, looking at them now, it’s as clear as day that they have no desire to hurt him.

I swallow and shake my head, trying to clear the fog. “Why does Rakwena think you want to hurt him? You must have done something to give him that impression.”

“He doesn’t know us,” says Temper. “It’s no wonder he’s afraid. And what we need from him is…well, it’s not a small thing. But we have no choice. We need help, and he’s the only one who can provide it. It will require…sacrifice.” Temper clears his throat. “We can’t tell you more than that. The details are between us and him.”

“But – ”

“If you want to know more, ask Rakwena,” Mandla interrupts. “You have to get him to see that we don’t want to make trouble. We just want to talk.”

Ah. I glance at Duma, who lowers his head sheepishly. So much for wanting to be my friend. The only reason he kept seeking me out is that he thought I could play mediator between Rakwena and the drifters. That’s why Temper was willing to meet me – Duma convinced him that I’m the one person Rakwena will listen to.

I sigh. “No wonder you’re so accommodating all of a sudden. You want to use me, and you knew I’d never agree until you told me
something
.”

“Don’t look at it like that,” says Temper.

“How else can I look at it?”

He sighs. “Just one meeting with him, that’s all we want.”

“You’re making a big mistake!”

It’s the first time I’ve heard Reetsang speak. I look up and almost recoil at the fury etched on his face.

“This is not the way it’s done,” he growls.

“The normal way isn’t working,” Mandla points out.

“But we’re tampering with the natural state of things, and it’s wrong!” Reetsang’s hands are balled into fists at his sides.

The others chime in, speaking in calm voices, trying to talk him down.

“There are exceptions to all rules, Reetsang.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Look what happened to Spencer – we can’t let it happen again.”

“Quiet,” Temper hisses, and the chatter stops abruptly.

Curiouser and curiouser…what does all this mean?

“We shouldn’t be discussing this in front of a stranger,” Temper goes on.

I fold my arms. “If you want my help, you’re going to have to let me in a little. My loyalty is to Rakwena. How can I ask him to put himself at risk for something I don’t understand?”

“I told you this was a terrible idea!” cries Reetsang, and storms out of the room before anyone has a chance to respond.

“Leave him,” says Temper, as Elias starts to move towards the corridor. “He needs to calm down.” He turns back to me. “I’m asking you to trust us. Please.”

I look around the room, ending on Duma’s pained expression. Whatever is going on here, it’s big. These guys are in serious trouble, I can sense it, and they seem convinced that Rakwena can fix it. But I already know that he will never agree to meet them, no matter what I tell him.

I can see that they’re settling into yet another awkward silence, and I don’t think I can stand it. “Can I ask more questions?”

Temper nods. He seems relieved to be off the touchy topic of Rakwena.

“Are you immortal?”

It seems like a perfectly valid question to me, but they look at each other and burst into laughter.

“I had to ask,” I grumble, annoyed.

“Nobody’s immortal, Connie,” says Duma. It’s good to see his smile again.