I can’t believe he’s here. Even as Dad and I watch him demolish the remainder of the spaghetti and drain four glasses of Sprite, I have to keep pressing my palms into my thighs to make sure I’m not dreaming. He’s more handsome than ever and his clothes look more expensive, as though someone else has been shopping for him, but otherwise he’s the same. I thought being a full-time drifter would change his appetite, but apparently not.
“Long trip, huh?” Dad remarks, watching in amusement as Rakwena shovels the food into his mouth.
Rakwena swallows and looks up sheepishly. “We just got in a couple of hours ago and I haven’t had a proper meal since breakfast.”
“Sure, sure.” Dad smiles at me across the table. “Well, it’s good to see you.”
Rakwena nods, his mouth full. Dad gets up and carries his own plate to the kitchen, then retreats to his room to give us some privacy. I sit there, gazing at Rakwena.
“That was good,” he sighs, pushing the empty plate away. “Got any snacks?”
I get up and lead him to the kitchen, then hand over an unopened box of chocolate biscuits. He tears the packaging and pops a biscuit into his mouth.
I stare at him. “What are you doing here? You never got back to me about the council; I assumed you must be busy.”
“Oh, the council.” He swallows. “They’re here. Everyone’s here.”
“What do you mean, everyone?”
“The council, Serame – that’s our matriarch – my cell, and some of the others. The council want to meet your grandfather to discuss this Maria girl, and we tagged along. Everyone’s pretty excited. They had their suspicions because her parents weren’t known to the clan, but you know how the policy works – the drifter must come to the clan, not the other way around. Anyway, if your grandfather is right…”
“I know.” I glance out the window, searching for a sign of his brothers. “So where’s your cell?”
“At the house. They’re all having dinner together – all the drifters who came – but I had to see you. I went straight home to get the car and say hello to Rre Sechaba, then came here.” He puts the biscuits on the counter and studies me. “You’ve grown.”
“Really? I don’t feel taller.”
“Not in height. You used to look like a kid. You don’t any more.”
My cheeks burn. I’m glad he noticed.
“We have a lot to discuss.”
“Yep.”
“But first things first. Are we still broken up?”
There goes my heart, banging madly against my ribcage. Calm down, Connie. I swallow before replying. “Technically we didn’t break up. We were on a break.”
He steps closer to me. “Are we still on a break?”
No. Yes. No. I look into his eyes. There’s a blue dot where his pupils should be, burning brightly. I know what he’s thinking because I’m thinking it, too. He wants to kiss me. Please, please kiss me! Wait, no. There’s no serum now; he’s officially a drifter. He can’t conquer me because I’m gifted, but he can conquer others. Suddenly I don’t think I want him to kiss me, after all. Who knows where those lips have been?
I take a wary step backwards. I don’t want to ask. He probably wouldn’t even think of it as a betrayal. Just my luck. Of all the guys in the world I pick one who can get away with using his biological make-up as an excuse to mess around.
“Connie? Talk to me.”
“I think…well, I mean…” I clear my throat, feeling flustered and confused, then grab the first lifeline that crosses my mind. “What does Temper say? He’s the boss, right?”
The light in Rakwena’s eyes fades. He drops his gaze. “Drifter rules are straightforward – long-term relationships are discouraged, and dating a non-drifter is basically taboo.”
I swallow. “Is there a punishment?”
He nods. “My father went through it after he married my mother. Spencer, too, after Kelly. No one will tell me what it is, which means it must be pretty serious.” He raises his eyes to mine again. “But I’m only half-drifter, and you’re gifted. We can’t hurt each other. The rules shouldn’t apply to us!”
I manage a small smile. How many star-crossed lovers have felt that they were the exception? Didn’t most of them end up dead? As frustrating as the drifter rules on dating are, they make sense. Even if Rakwena manages to stay away from other girls for a while, how long can that last? What happens when we’re older, when I want a wedding and kids and he’s not allowed to have them? I’m not going to live with his brothers, and I can’t ask him to leave them. One day he’ll have to choose.
“I want to be with you,” he whispers.
My heart races again, and then a little voice wonders: does he want only me, or me plus a string of meaningless conquests? I bite my lip and avoid his gaze. It’s not that I don’t trust him. I don’t trust his nature. When he left he was mine. Now he’s theirs, and I don’t know how much he’s changed.
“What’s wrong?” He forces a laugh. “Did some handsome telepath come along and sweep you off your feet?”
“Don’t be stupid,” I murmur. “There’s no one else. It’s just more complicated now. You’re bound by rules that say what we want doesn’t matter.”
“We can fight the rules.”
“You just got into the clan. It’s too soon to start trying to get kicked out.”
“But–”
“We have other things to talk about right now. Bigger things,” I add quickly, before he can argue.
He picks up the biscuit box and we walk back to the living room. We sit side by side on the sofa. His proximity makes my pulse race, but I can’t stop wondering how many conquests he’s had. Maybe none, yet. He wasn’t allowed contact with the world until the induction…but it’s been a whole month since then. A lot can happen in a month. If there’s one thing I know about his brothers, it’s their love for parties and clubs and the giggly, scantily clad girls they meet there.
“So,” he begins, stalling my unpleasant train of thought. “Puppetmaster.”
I nod. “Right. You missed a lot.”
“I read your email over and over again, trying to fill in the gaps.”
I scowl at him. “There were no gaps.”
He laughs and ruffles my hair. God, it feels good. “There were huge gaps. It was like a synopsis from a TV guide.”
“Hey, I did my best under severe constraints,” I protest.
“Sure.” He brushes my hair back, and his touch sends a jolt through me. I close my eyes, revelling in the sensation, then remember I’m supposed to be playing it cool. “Seriously, what’s going on? Have you spoken to him since then?”
I open my eyes. “I’ve met with him twice. And, um…well…we communicate telepathically now, so we talk regularly.”
His hand freezes against the side of my face. “What?”
Oops. “It’s not a big deal. It just makes it easier to talk.”
“You let that crazy bastard into your head regularly?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“How should I put it?” He lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you make friends with the guy who’s trying to ruin your life?”
“You’re being melodramatic. And you left me for more than five minutes.”
He falls silent, and I feel guilty for saying that. It’s not like he wanted to leave – I made him go. He had to go.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m glad you went. Honestly, you were a huge, obnoxious thorn in my side.”
He rolls his eyes, then takes my hand. “I was worried about you. After all the things you said about the Puppetmaster watching us, and keeping your tooth, and pretending to be your grandfather… I didn’t know what I’d find when I got here.”
“I’m fine.” I cling to his hand, then let go, then cling to it again. “I’m good.”
He looks into my eyes. “Tell me about these conversations you’ve been having.”
I nod and take a deep breath. “Well, the first thing you need to know is that the serum isn’t to blame for your weirdness. You have a genetic mutation.”
He frowns, opens his mouth, and then closes it again.
“I know. Just wait till you hear the rest.”
I tell him everything that’s been going on, taking care to leave nothing out. When I get to Thuli’s tattoo he gets so worked up his eyes burn blue, and then I start to tell him about the Loosening.
“I knew it!” he exclaims. “The clan has been buzzing with rumours that something big was going on in the gifted world. That’s why the council had so many long meetings. Temper wouldn’t tell us anything, though. Serame insisted they wait until they knew for sure before making an announcement, but we could tell it was bad because they issued a travel ban. No one was allowed to leave their city. My father broke it and now his cell is under supervision.”
I frown. “Supervision?”
“They’ve been moved into the big house with Serame. Where she goes, they go. It’s usually a punishment for youth cells, so it’s pretty humiliating,” he adds. There’s no missing the slight note of satisfaction. I guess he and Senzo won’t be winning any father-son bonding awards.
“Have your gifts been growing, too?”
He shakes his head. “Mandla thinks the stability of the clan keeps us insulated. When we’re all together and strong it’s more difficult for things that affect other gifted to touch us.”
I take a deep breath. “Well, there’s more. The Loosening isn’t any ordinary ritual.”
“Obviously not – apparently it has the widest range of any known spell in history.”
I nod, then explain to him exactly what the Loosening is for and how the Puppetmaster has already begun to use it.
“What?” he bellows, cutting me off. “How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know. It’s an ancient ritual.”
“But that’s…” He blinks and shakes his head, his features twisted in horror, sparks gathering on his fingers. “You’re saying the Puppetmaster can remove someone’s gift without killing them? That’s like cutting someone in half!”
I nod.
“And they’ll still be fine? Healthy? Sane?”
“So it seems. Jafta was devastated, but Marshall’s fine. Never better.”
He looks at me, and in his eyes I see the dismay I felt when I saw that Jafta had lost his gift. “How, Connie?”
I shake my head. He squeezes my hand. His energy has accumulated to the point that it sears my skin. As much as I love Wiki and Lebz, there’s something to be said for having someone in my life who really understands. We sit there in silence for a while, my gift absorbing his until his emotions are in check once more.
“I have to go,” he whispers. “They’re expecting me back soon.”
I start to protest. I haven’t even told him about Connie Who Knows and the Ultima. Then I remember that he has a family now. I have to share him. We get up and walk to the door, falling into step with each other. We stand on the front step. I look up into his face. His expression is solemn.
“This is a lot to digest,” he says.
I nod, then smile sadly. “Remember how it started? A bunch of girls with bewitched necklaces. That was the biggest problem we had for months, and now it’s one thing after another and I feel like you’re the only person who gets it.”
“We’ve been in this together from day one.” He pulls me into a hug. “No matter what the cell says, we’ll always be in this together.”
I sigh into his hoodie. “You didn’t come here for me, you came to find out about your origins. That’s important, too.”
“Are you joking? Of course I came for you.”
My heart does several cartwheels in my chest. Is it selfish of me to be pleased? Yes, but so what? I’m only human. I look up at him. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Clearly I do. Making nice with the Puppetmaster, getting chummy with Thuli – you’re more of a magnet for trouble than ever.” He raises his eyebrows. “You need me.”
Yes, I do, but I’ll be damned if he ever knows that. “Go home, Cinderella.” I step away reluctantly and shove him towards the gate. “Before your Isuzu turns back into a pumpkin. We’ll talk in the morning.”
He takes a few steps backwards. “Good to see you, North American Weed.”
I smile. “Good to see you, Lizard.”
I wait until his car is out of sight before locking the gate and the front door. I soak the dishes in the sink for tomorrow, turn off the lights and walk to my room. Dad’s snoring already.
I open my door to find my crystal glowing happily. I change into my night clothes and stare into the crystal until I fall asleep. For tonight at least, it’s bright enough to dispel all the shadows.
* * *
My eyes flutter open as the persistent buzz of my alarm permeates my sleepy haze. Something’s different about today. I blink into the darkness, trying to figure it out. Oh, yes. A warm glow spreads through my chest. Rakwena’s home. Well, not home – home for him is South Africa now – but he’s within driving distance.
I turn over onto my side so I can savour this fact for a few minutes, but something disrupts my joy. It’s that now-familiar prick that indicates an unwanted visitor.
Morning.
Oh, for goodness’ sake. Can’t a girl have five minutes to daydream about a boy any more? What kind of world is this?
Don’t you sleep? Is that one of the first things to go when you become almost immortal?
The Puppetmaster is amused, as always, by my feisty spirit. I’m surprised you could sleep at all, what with last night’s excitement.
I sigh and roll onto my back again. What do you want?
Just to share in your joy. I owe your grandfather a debt for making the discovery that brought the clan here.
I sit up slowly. Why? What does the clan have to do with anything?
They provided a pretext for Rakwena to return, and that’s good for us.
Us? There’s no us – there’s you on the side of the Depraved Lunatics and me on the side of the Regular Decent Folk. And just so you know, Rakwena will never let you use him. You might be able to get into my head, but he’d die before helping you.
He sighs. How many times must I say it? This is not about me. It’s about destiny, and you can’t fight destiny.
I wish he wouldn’t say things like that. His words make fear go scampering across my back, leaving a dense, heavy feeling all over my body. Stay away from Rakwena. I mean it.
But he’s gone, and I’m sure he’s laughing. I fling back the covers, my good mood evaporated. Rakwena and I have always made a good team. We’ll find the warehouse and stop the Puppetmaster, somehow. As I snatch up my bathrobe and open the door I recall the conversation I had with Rakwena about the Loosening.
Just thinking of it makes my insides squirm, as if my gift is slipping away and I’m trying to hold on to it. I’m sure the people who came up with such a ritual believed it was a necessary evil, but I can’t agree with them. Separating gifts from their bearers is wrong. We can function without our gifts, but something will always be missing. I’ve whined about my gift for years. People whine – it’s what we do. We hate our legs or our eyes or our elbows, but the minute we lose them we realise how vital they were.
Rakwena calls while I’m having breakfast and we arrange to meet later. I can’t wait to see him. I wish I could staple him to my side. I’m about to send messages to my friends when my phone rings again. It’s Wiki.
“Are you home? We’re on the way over.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Who’s we?”
“Me and the girls. We have important news. Don’t move!”
He hangs up without giving me the opportunity to protest. News, huh? That sounds promising. The three of them arrive an hour later, and Lebz and Kelly head straight for my room to “fix their clothes”. I stare at their backs, then turn to Wiki.
“OK, what on earth was that all about?”
“I have to tell you something,” he begins, and experience has taught me that’s never a good way to start a conversation. “Kelly knows you’re gifted.”
I exhale. That’s all? “Of course she knows; she’s not an idiot.”
“What I mean is, ahem, she knows everything. She read the File.”
This is what happens when you go rescuing ungifted girls from the inappropriate advances of rogue drifters. They start thinking too much and putting pieces of the puzzle together. I sink back into my chair. “Spill it, Judas.”
“Hey! I didn’t give it to her. She read it while I was out of the room!”
“Does she check your phone, too?”
“She was just curious. It was bound to happen; we all knew that. Besides, she’ll make a great sidekick,” he adds.
Gifted are secretive – we have to be. People don’t like things they can’t understand, and in a community as steeped in the supernatural as ours, someone who can do strange things is more likely to be reviled than revered. I’ve had my share of parents telling their kids not to play with me. It took a lot of work to graduate from flat-out creepy to slightly odd. Kelly was among those who thought I was weird and gave me a wide berth. Before we became friends I thought if she found out my secret she’d make my life hell. Now I know her bratty popular girl routine is just a persona.
I heave a long, theatrical sigh, just to make Wiki sweat a little. “This is a serious betrayal.”
“I’m sorry, Connie, I really–”
“I’m kidding,” I chuckle, and he glares at me. “To be honest she’s saved us an awkward talk. We can upgrade her clearance effective immediately.”
He beams. “Thanks, Connie. I hated keeping things from her. I want us to have an honest relationship.”
Geez. Wiki’s such a sap.
“Oh, by the way, you were right about that journalist,” he says with a frown. “She called all three of us. We didn’t tell her anything,” he adds hastily.
Damn, that woman is persistent! “Don’t worry about her. As long as we keep quiet we’ll remain nothing more than helpful bystanders.”
“OK, then we can move on to the good news,” he breathes. “Can I call the others?”
I nod. He goes to fetch the girls, and when we’re all comfortably seated he opens his bag and takes out the File. I glance at Kelly. She looks excited. I regard her with a new level of respect. When Wiki and Lebz first figured out that I was gifted, they were more disturbed than excited.
“We found it!” Lebz declares. “Well, Wiki found it, but Kelly helped and I offered moral support.”
“Sure you did,” I reply wryly. “What did you find?”
“Evidence that the Ultima has been embodied before,” says Wiki, opening the File.
A surge of panic swells in my chest. “What do you mean?”
“This must be what the Puppetmaster learned, what made him sure she wasn’t a myth.” He flips through the pages, finds what he’s looking for, then holds it up. “Look.”
I look, then glare at him impatiently. “It’s in hieroglyphs!”
“Cuneiform, actually. There’s a translation below.” He lowers the File. “It’s the story of a young couple who lived in a time of great distress. They had a gifted son and people were afraid of him, so the family fled. They would settle in one place, get found out and have to run again. They travelled quite a distance, moving south.”
I sigh. “A real tear-jerker.”
“There’s more,” says Kelly, practically bouncing in her seat.
Wiki nods. “There’s a story from the Gold Coast, which of course is now Ghana. It’s an account from the diary of a traveller, about a family with a strange son. We think it’s the same bloodline. Listen: ‘He had no friends, save one old man, who was as odd as he and as eager to avoid the company of others. They would disappear together, and the people grew afraid.’ And all this was happening at a time when the gifted were in trouble. See, here it says: ‘There was a cloud over the world, for something dark had come to devour the gifted. Those who could See lost their Sight, and the people of the Power fled from the darkness, but could not hide. It was the boy and the old man who saved them, for the boy could take away their pain, and the old man could make them stronger.’”
“The boy was a drifter!” Lebz blurts out.
“And the old man embodied the Ultima,” adds Kelly. “Obviously.”
“This is where the Puppetmaster got the idea to put you and Rakwena together,” says Wiki. “He knows it will work because it’s already been done!”
“But he doesn’t want me and Rakwena to save the gifted from the darkness,” I point out. “He is the darkness.”
“Well, yes,” says Wiki, “but you see my point – this is proof that his plan is viable. And if this boy and old man could dispel the darkness…”
“Rakwena and I can defeat John.” I note the horrified expressions on their faces. “I mean the Puppetmaster. Well, then I guess the timing’s perfect. Rakwena’s back.”
Lebz squeals, then flings herself at me. I’m going to take that as a sign of her joy. If the news distracts my friends from lecturing me about being on a first-name basis with my nemesis, all the better. I’m in no mood for a lecture – I have a lot to think about. While I tell my friends all about Rakwena’s visit last night, in the back of my mind I’m putting things together.
If the Loosening is the darkness, Rakwena is the drifter from the story, and I’m the old man, then our task is to stop the Loosening. But how do we stop something we can’t find? How do we get from where we are to where the Puppetmaster is hiding? And when we get there, how the hell do we fight him?
* * *
I haven’t been to Rakwena’s house since he left. I suppose I ought to have come by to say hello to Rre Sechaba, his caretaker, but being in this house without Rakwena would have been too painful, even for a tough nut like me.
I arrive to discover that he’s not alone. The gate is partially open and parked next to his silver Isuzu is the white MPV his brothers drive. The front door is ajar. I take a deep breath. Looks like I’m going to get a chance to reconnect with the family. In spite of the whole keeping me and Rakwena apart thing, I’ll be glad to see the drifters. I grew to like them over the few months they were in town, especially Duma.
I walk towards the front door, but before I’m even halfway there the boys come spilling out, engrossed in conversation. The twins spot me first.
“Hey, it’s the fortune teller!” exclaims Elias. “What’s good, Connie?”
“Uh, not much. A lot?”
He guffaws and claps me on the back in a pally sort of way, which is surprising. He was never my biggest fan. Reetsang, the other twin, gives me one of those sideways gangster nods. Spencer and Mandla say a quick hello. So far no one seems upset that I’m here. That’s a good sign.
“Connie!” Duma pushes past Spencer and Rakwena and throws his arms around me. “It’s so good to see you!”
When his cheek brushes mine a small, sharp jolt goes through my face. “Ow!”
He pulls away. “Did I hurt you? Sorry; I’m just excited.” His grin is infectious, but then it always was. Lord, is he cuter? Taller, too.
I reach up to pat his head. “You’ve grown!”
He lifts his shoulders in a not-quite-nonchalant shrug. “I’m fifteen now.”
“Oooh,” I remark, injecting just the right amount of mock awe into my voice. The others laugh. I missed Duma. Sure, he befriended me under false pretences, used me to get to Rakwena and lured me to his brothers so they could hold me hostage until Rakwena joined the cell, but that’s all water under the bridge. It’s impossible to hold a grudge against someone with such puppy-dog eyes.
I look around at the others. I must have forgotten how good-looking they are, because I’m starting to feel a little giddy. Rakwena comes over, grinning. He fits right in. I don’t know whether he’s grown to resemble his brothers more, or my perception has shifted since he joined them.
He plants a kiss on my forehead. “Perfect timing. We need to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“To a meeting.” The deep baritone belongs to Temper, first-born, cell leader, and big enough to crush me in one hand. He locks the front door, tosses the key to Rakwena and turns to face me. “Hello, Connie. Nice to see you again.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really?”
He chuckles. “It would be great to hang out and catch up, but we’re in a hurry. There’s a meeting in an hour and we’re all expected to be there.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know.” I shoot an annoyed glance at Rakwena.
“Your grandfather insisted that you come along,” says Temper. His smile falters slightly. “He says you’re his right hand. The council couldn’t argue with that, so I hope you don’t have anything important planned for the afternoon.”
Is he kidding? There’s no way I’m passing up the chance to attend a drifter council meeting. “As it turns out, I’m free.”
“You can ride with us,” says Duma, taking my hand.
I yank it away with a yelp. “Hey! Are you trying to electrocute me?”
He looks down at his hand, a frown creasing his features. “Sorry.”
“Still excited?” Spencer lets out a low whistle. “I don’t blame you. Connie is looking surprisingly hot today.”
“Ja, but Duma’s the one who needs a cold shower!” cackles Reetsang.
Duma scowls. Rakwena punches Reetsang’s shoulder with a little more force than necessary, and glares at Spencer. I will admit to a slight thrill at watching him defend my honour.
“Enough!” snaps Temper. “In the car, now. You can fool around on the way.”
Duma shoots me an apologetic glance before turning to follow his brothers.
“You and Elias are in my car,” Rakwena tells him, and Duma beams.
We all pile into the cars. I’m in the passenger seat beside Rakwena, and Duma and Elias are in the back. The others ride in the MPV with Temper at the wheel. It feels weird to be with them like this, as though we’re all good buddies.
“I wonder why Ntatemogolo didn’t mention this meeting to me.” I glance out the window as the car pulls into the street and the gate slides shut behind us.
“He didn’t know,” says Rakwena. “The council called him a couple of hours ago. Since you and I already had plans, I figured I’d just wait and we could all go together.”
“The council isn’t happy about your involvement, by the way,” remarks Elias.
“Shut up,” murmurs Duma. “It’s not like that, Connie. They just prefer not to have too many outsiders involved. But you’re not really an outsider.”
I appreciate his effort to soften the blow, but I know Elias is right. Besides knowing far too much about their business, my relationship with Rakwena is a thorn in the clan’s side. On the other hand, Duma makes a good point. I’m not an outsider. I helped them get Rakwena back, and my grandfather is helping them discover their origins. By rights they should give me honorary membership.
“So where’s the meeting?” I ask. “Drifter HQ?”
Rakwena grins. “Serame’s got a house in Gabs North. We’re going there.”
Gabs North again. Interesting. I wonder whether the matriarch knows she has the Puppetmaster for a neighbour. Now the nerves start to kick in. I’m going to meet the clan matriarch, the equivalent of the president, and she already thinks I’m a meddling brat who can’t mind her own business.
Duma turns his innocent gaze on me. “Don’t worry. Serame’s great.”
I doubt it. Her name means cold in Setswana. I can already picture her – all pinched features and long limbs. She must be like one of those mean old women who run orphanages and torment the children. She probably hates children. That’s why she doesn’t want the drifters to marry or reproduce at will. She’s a control freak, a robot with blue sparks shooting from her fingers, and when she has me in her grip she’s going to –
“Uh, Connie?” Rakwena’s voice sounds strange. “Are you OK?”
“What?” I look down to find myself clutching his arm, my fingernails digging deep into his sleeve. “Oh! Sorry.” I release him, embarrassed.
Elias lets out one of his freakish guffaws. “Are you scared?” He leans forward. “Don’t worry. Serame won’t hurt you. Much.”
“Ignore him.” Rakwena keeps his eyes on the road.
“Just trying to prepare her, man.” Elias leans back in his seat.
I’m not sure I missed him as much I missed the others. He’s enjoying my discomfort, and I hate the way he calls me “fortune teller”.
“How have you been?” asks Duma. “You’ve been through a lot lately.”
“I’m sure she’s freaked out about the sorcerer,” drawls Elias. “Good thing we’re here to watch her back, huh?”
I steal a glance in Rakwena’s direction. He has the grace to look abashed. I raise my eyebrows at him. “So you guys have no secrets?”
He shakes his head. “We talk about everything.”
“By choice?”
“No one forces anything out of anyone,” replies Elias, with a trace of annoyance.
“The bond builds trust,” says Duma. “Sharing everything comes naturally to us. If someone asks what’s on your mind, you want to tell them.”
“It’s weird.” Rakwena shakes his head. “You know I’m not big on sharing.”
Oh, I know only too well. His idea of being forthcoming is telling me things are “complicated”. “Let me get this straight. If Duma were to ask you, for example…” I glance back at Duma.
“Uh, how are you feeling about this meeting?” asks Duma.
“Considering the fact that it’s the first time your girlfriend will appear before the council,” adds Elias, with a sly grin.
I turn back to Rakwena. “You would say…”
He’s quiet for a while. “Nervous,” he confesses. “The only reason they’re allowing you to come is because your grandfather insisted.” He glances at me. “You have to understand, my family’s caused a lot of trouble in the clan already. My father is pretty much on probation for the rest of his life, and I’m being…” He sighs.
“Closely monitored,” says Elias. “In case he displays signs of deviant behaviour.”
My eyes widen. “Being with me is deviant behaviour?”
“No,” says Duma.
“Yep,” says Elias.
Rakwena glances at me again, and his eyes say it all. Deviant? Really? If my father can accept his little girl dating a tattooed drifter with a scar down the left side of his face, the clan should damn well accept me. Compared to the lot of them I’m a friggin’ angel.
I slump in my seat, offended. We turn into Gaborone North, and for the rest of the way the only sound is the car bumping along the unpaved road and Elias chattering to no one in particular.
“Here we go,” he announces as we pull up in front of a high white wall, just minutes behind Mandla’s car.
Spencer leaps out of the car in front and presses the intercom, and shortly the gate opens. Spencer walks in and the two cars follow. There are already five other cars parked in the massive yard. One of them is Ntatemogolo’s Venture.
We step out of the car and follow the other drifters round to the back. Rakwena takes my hand, and I give him a grateful smile as his strength seeps into me. We emerge into a wide open space structured like an amphitheatre. A row of chairs is set up in front of the semicircular stone steps. There are about twenty or so people here, eleven of them sitting on the chairs, the rest on the steps behind. Ntatemogolo stands apart, head held high. His features soften when he sees me.
“I have to sit with the cell,” Rakwena whispers. “You should sit with your grandfather.”
I release his hand reluctantly, then make my way to Ntatemogolo, my head bowed low to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. Only when I’m at his side do I feel brave enough to look around us.
“Hi, Ntatemogolo.”
“Hello, my girl. How do you feel?”
I glance at the faces to my left. They are all well-dressed and good-looking. There are two children, but they sit so quietly that they seem more like miniature adults. Senzo, Rakwena’s father, lurks at the back with his cell. Even though I expect it, his resemblance to his son is jarring. What’s he doing here? I thought he would have preferred to stay as far away from Rakwena as possible. My gaze skims across the line of councillors. Temper has just joined them. Every one of them is dressed in formal work clothes, like the board of directors of a Black Economic Empowerment multinational. How do I feel? Like I’m about to be retrenched, sued and thrown in prison.
I lick my lips and decide not to answer my grandfather. It’s bad enough being terrified without admitting to it.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says softly. “They are only people.”
“They hate me.”
He smiles. “I doubt that.”
I steal another glance at them. Rakwena and his cell have taken their places on the steps behind the council. I watch them all, their flawless skin varying shades of brown.
“Why do they have to be so beautiful?”
“People are drawn to beauty. It helps them do what they were born to do.” He’s indulging me, trying to keep me calm, and I’m grateful.
“The couples with those children aren’t their real parents, you know.” It’s my turn to be the know-it-all. “Rakwena’s brothers explained it to me. They’re assigned to them. They don’t know or care who their biological parents are. Isn’t that strange?”
He glances at me. “Our whole world is strange.”
I smile. Touché. Suddenly everyone gets to their feet. “Is it starting?”
He nods. “The matriarch has just arrived.”
I follow his gaze…and almost have a coronary. Serame is not the ice queen I imagined. For one thing, she’s wearing an orange dress that hugs her ample curves and heels so high they’re practically stilts. For another, she’s beaming. She looks more like the bubbly madam of a burlesque lounge than the matriarch of a drifter clan. Her chestnut-dyed dreadlocks are wound into an elaborate bun, and her eyes are lined with kohl.
I blink. “That’s her?”
“Makes quite an impression, doesn’t she?”
That she does. She’s glossy and gorgeous, and when she starts to speak in a warm, husky voice I feel like I’m in a smoky jazz club and any minute now she’ll be crooning about her no-good lover.
“Close your mouth, Connie,” Ntatemogolo whispers.
I snap my jaw shut. Everyone resumes their seat.
“It’s so good to see all of you,” she says, smiling around at her family. I half expect her to sweep them all up and draw them to her bosom. “To those who have come to offer their support, thank you. And to our guests – “ her gaze falls on us “ – welcome.”
Ntatemogolo nods politely. I follow suit.
“We are here to discuss an important and controversial matter.” She raises a finger, and two teenage boys come running forward, each carrying a chair.
They place the chairs in front of us, and Ntatemogolo and I sit. Now only Serame is left standing, in the impossible shoes only a fashionista like Lebz could appreciate.
“We have known for some time that there were drifters living in Botswana,” she continues. “We didn’t interfere in their lives unless they asked us to, but we were aware of a young drifter called Maria. There was speculation that she might be first-generation, but no proof.” She waves a hand at Ntatemogolo.
“We have already discussed Lerumo Raditladi’s theory of our origins at length, and we are convinced of its accuracy. After reading his letter we consulted the councils in West Africa.” She’s speaking to everyone, but for some reason her eyes are on me, and I can’t look away. “They are investigating the history of a young man also believed to be a first-generation drifter, and asked that we do the same with Maria. However, our situation is a little more complicated.”
She turns her gaze back on the crowd. “Maria has not made contact with her cell. According to our rules, we can’t make first contact. We can’t just turn up on her doorstep, demanding answers. She has also refused to see Mr Raditladi again, which leaves us in a bit of a jam. So!” She claps her hands once. “We’re here to find a solution that will give us the information we need without breaking our code, and we have invited Mr Raditladi and his granddaughter to help us do this. I’ll hand over to the council to begin taking suggestions.”
“I have a suggestion,” I say softly.
Ntatemogolo glares at me. “Quiet!”
“Should I raise my hand?” I whisper.
“You should hold your tongue until the chairman gives you the floor.”
Eish. What do I know about drifter protocol? I squirm in my seat. It’s obvious what needs to be done. The drifters can’t go to Maria, so Maria must come here. Duh. And since Ntatemogolo and I are the only people here not bound by the ridiculous drifter code, we must be the ones to fetch her.
But I soon learn that the drifter decision-making process is just as drawn-out as ours. The chairman of the council, a big man with a fearsome frown, opens the discussions, and the councillors take turns stating the obvious and debating irrelevant points.
“The girl’s cell is closer to her – why don’t we let them handle this?” says a woman with a cherubic face and a halo of fuzzy hair.
“Handle it how? They can’t make first contact!” the man beside her points out.
“They can do what our newest cell did – use a non-drifter who is close to the girl to persuade her to join them.”
“Involving an ungifted is out of the question, and there are no gifted in the immediate vicinity. Interfering telepaths aren’t found on every street corner, you know!”
Interfering? Seriously?
“Maybe we should let the interfering telepath contribute,” says Temper, and I beam at him.
“The decision is ours to make.”
“Of course, but she and her grandfather know more about this girl–”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Just because the man met her once–”
“Well, there might be some merit in hearing what they have to say–”
“Let’s open it to the floor.”
“There’s no need, this is a simple matter of…”
I can’t take it any more. It’s like listening in when Parliament is in session. Despite Ntatemogolo’s warning, I stand. “Excuse me. Hello? Can I say something?”
My grandfather sighs and shakes his head. I know, I know, I never listen. But sometimes my way is better.
The amphitheatre falls silent. The councillors turn to glare at me. I glance at Rakwena. He’s frozen, eyes wide, jaw tense. Next to him Duma is shaking his head frantically, but it’s too late to stop now. I risk a glance in Serame’s direction. Her expression is inscrutable.
I clear my throat. “Sorry to interrupt. May I speak?”
“You’ve already begun,” says Serame in a wry tone.
My face burns. “Ja. Sorry. Um… You can’t go to D’Kar. Maria’s cell can’t go to her, either. There are only two people in this room who can, so let us do it.”
“What makes you think you can convince her to leave her community if even the bond isn’t strong enough to pull her away?” the chairman asks disdainfully.
Good question. How shall I answer it? Let’s see… “I’m a telepath, Mr Chairman. I can be very persuasive.”
I hear my grandfather inhale sharply. A murmur ripples through the gathered drifters. Rakwena buries his head in his hands. I’m teetering on the edge of a precipice here, and the expression on the chairman’s face tells me I have only seconds left before I topple to my death. Oh, well. At least I made a memorable first impression.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it the way it sounds,” says Temper, but no one pays him any attention.
The chairman gets to his feet and comes over. He’s much taller up close. Much scarier, too. “Are you declaring, in front of the matriarch, the council and our audience, that you can use your gift to persuade Maria to come here?”
Gulp. Declare is a strong word. I’m not declaring, I’m just saying I might be able to, if I’m very, very lucky, but it doesn’t seem wise to point that out. I’ve dug my grave. Might as well jump in. “Yes, sir.”
The murmurs grow louder. I know what they’re thinking. The nerve of this interfering telepath! Who does she thinks she is?
“Please excuse us,” he says smugly. “The council will put this to a vote.”
The two boys who brought our chairs reappear to lead us into the house. As soon as they’ve left us alone in the living room Ntatemogolo turns to me.
“Have you lost your mind, girl? Do you have any idea what you are dealing with?”
“I’m sorry! It just came out.”
“These people are not like us,” he hisses. “You have seen how strictly they adhere to their code. If you enter into an agreement with them and break it, they will feel justified in ending your life.”
I let out a hysterical giggle. “They wouldn’t.” His expression takes my breath away, and not in a good way. OK. So ending my life is a real possibility.
“Why don’t you think before you speak?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Sorry is of no use now.”
I gulp and contemplate the end of my life. Rakwena will stop them, he’ll… No, he won’t. He can’t. A moment later the two boys return to call us back. I guess deciding to hang me was easy. Panic sets in as we head back outside, and by the time I’m standing in front of the council I’m starting to feel sick.
“The council has reached a decision,” Serame announces. “The telepath, Conyza, will prove here and now that she can get past a drifter barrier. If she succeeds, she and her grandfather will be granted permission to go to D’Kar. If she fails, she will be excommunicated.” She looks at me. “That means you will never be allowed to see or speak to a member of this clan again.”
My heart stops. I stare at her in disbelief, then my gaze slides in Rakwena’s direction. His expression is dazed, uncomprehending, as though he can’t make sense of what he’s just heard. Oh, no. Stupid, stupid, stupid Connie!
I’ve just given the council the one thing they’ve wanted since I stepped on the scene – a way to get rid of me. A way to keep me and Rakwena apart for good.