I’ve arranged to meet my friends and the drifters at four p.m. Although I have a plan, it’s still in the formative stages.
I call Ntatemogolo several times without success. I’ve just decided to go down to his house when he returns my call.
“Is something wrong?” he asks by way of greeting.
“No, Ntatemogolo. I have an idea and I’m going to need your help. Can you come over at four?”
He’s quiet for some time. “What kind of idea? Don’t tell me you plan to try to stop the Loosening on your own.”
“Not on my own. With Rakwena and the Ultima. I know you don’t believe in her,” I add, before he has time to protest. “But I think this could be my chance to finally destroy the Puppetmaster. Even if I’m wrong about the Ultima, getting rid of the Puppetmaster is the only way to save everyone. We can at least agree on that, can’t we?”
He sighs. “I can’t argue with that, but I don’t want you running off to do something careless.”
“I don’t want to be careless. I want to do this properly. That’s why I called you.” I let that sink in, knowing how important it is to him that I respect his opinion. I’d never do something this important without speaking to him first. He doesn’t know that. Like everyone else he thinks I jump in head first and worry about the consequences later. Sometimes that’s true. But this isn’t some little mystery that affects a couple of people I happen to know. The stakes are high. If I screw this up the entire gifted world will be affected, and possibly the ungifted world, too.
He exhales, and I hear the resignation in his voice. “Four, you said? I will be there.”
“Thank you, Ntatemogolo. See you soon.”
The nerves start to kick in as the day passes. I’ve thought about the magnitude of my mission, but not in depth. I’ve just touched on it and then busied my mind with practicalities, because it’s too much to take. It’s too much for anyone, let alone a teenager who rarely gets things right.
But now, as the minutes tick by and I come closer and closer to my fate, I can’t not think about the burden that has been placed on my shoulders. I’ve fought the Ultima, pushed her aside, denied her. I did all that to protect myself, my sanity, but every second I wasted was a second I could have used to help the people trapped in the Loosening.
I’m slow to trust. I always have been, which is why for most of my life there were only two people I felt comfortable enough with to call my friends. I met plenty of perfectly nice people, but the idea of going through the trouble of opening up to them and possibly sharing my secret put me off.
Then Rakwena sauntered into my life with his cocky attitude and his blue sparks, and nothing has been the same since. I’m not the same. I was changing even before the Ultima. I was growing up. I wanted my life to mean something. I wanted to find a way to use my gift to make a difference, and I got exactly what I asked for, in spades. I don’t know why she picked me, but I have to give this my best shot.
An hour before the meeting I use my bell. The first ring fills my head with its resonance, making me breathe slower and deeper. I ring it twice more, as always. Was it the Puppetmaster who said three was the magic number? He’s a nutcase, but he knows his stuff.
I set the bell down and keep my eyes closed. I take my time, letting the now coherent thoughts return, filed in the correct order. I know what I have to do. I pick up the puzzle box and examine it. I have no intention of opening it yet, though I know I could. I need time. I no longer feeling the pain of the Ultima’s bonding process, but I know we’re not one entity. Not yet.
I sit on the edge of my bed, waiting. I know he’ll come. He’s growing desperate. The Loosening is still running, greedy as ever. It’s mere minutes before I sense him.
You’re trying my patience, Princess.
Hello, John.
Open the puzzle box.
I can’t.
You’re not even trying! The Loosening is growing more unstable every day.
I know.
I sense his anger, a needle twisting in my head, making me wince. I can’t believe that you would allow people to lose their gifts this way. You alone can save them, and yet you choose not to. That’s not the Conyza I know.
Which Conyza do you know? The one who does what she’s told, even when the instructions are so subtle she doesn’t recognise them for what they are?
He sighs impatiently. You are angry now, but in time you’ll see how I’ve helped you.
I shake my head slowly. I’ve been an idiot. The integrity that was supposed to help me defeat him was almost my undoing. It made me empathise with him, and while I was busy playing shrink, he was scheming and plotting more than ever. I can’t reason with him. There is nothing I will ever be able to say or do to change him, and it’s not my job to try. My job is to use every weapon at my disposal to rid the world of John Kubega.
Normally I find your stubbornness endearing, but there is no time. Open the puzzle box and save the world. What are you afraid of? You know the Ultima is good. Giving in to her power will only help others, and you. She’s not like me. She is selfless.
He coaxes. He cajoles. He uses cold, hard reason. He tries in countless ways to seduce me, but I am finally immune. I know if I allow the Ultima her full power, he will wait for her to break the Loosening and then throw her in a cage. I don’t know how he’ll do it, but I know he will. He’s too anxious. He’s certain of his plan, and he wouldn’t be certain if it weren’t foolproof. But he’s not the only one with a plan.
Let me tell you how this is going to play out, John. I get slowly to my feet. I am going to destroy you. I’m going to obliterate every trace of the person you have so carefully created over almost two hundred years. Go ahead, keep pushing me. Just know that when I reach that peak, I will decimate you.
I feel his smile like a slice of blinding light behind my eyes – too sharp. Lethal. My threat hasn’t frightened him. It has excited him, as I knew it would.
I look forward to watching you try. He withdraws with a faint chuckle.
He doesn’t believe I can beat him. He’s thrilled to see the determination in me because it will make me a stronger vessel for his twisted fantasy, but he doesn’t believe for a moment that I can overturn his plan.
Wiki was right. This is a foe no prison can hold. When it comes down to that final moment, one way or another, I am going to have to kill the Puppetmaster.
* * *
My friends and the drifters are all on time, even Lebz. The ungifted bunch sit huddled on the sofa. The drifters sit around the dining table. Duma is here as well. He looks a little the worse for wear. Like the other abductees he can’t remember a thing, but his smile is as bright as ever. Ntatemogolo stands apart, looking every inch the strict teacher before his terrified students. His eyes are narrowed and his arms are crossed over his chest. He doesn’t think anything I say will convince him that I know what I’m doing, but I plan to change his mind.
“Thanks for coming,” I tell them. “First I want to apologise to all of you for the trouble I’ve caused by dragging you into my battle, but once again I have to ask for your help. I’ve found a way to fight the Puppetmaster, and I can’t do it alone.” My gaze meets Rakwena’s and his lips curl in a conspiratorial smile.
I glance from Spencer to Kelly. They’re actively avoiding looking in each other’s direction. The last time they were in the same room they couldn’t keep their eyes – or their hands – off each other.
“Before I go on, I need to know that we can all work together. Anyone who doesn’t want to be involved doesn’t have to be, but I need to know now.”
No one speaks.
“Kelly? Spencer? Is there going to be a problem?”
“No.” Kelly clears her throat and glances tentatively at Spencer.
He gives an unconvincing nod. I envisage a long, awkward heart-to-heart in the near future. That’s not a premonition, it’s a plan. If I’m going to have all these people in my life – and I mean to – they’ll have to get over their differences. But right now we have more important matters to attend to.
“Hold on,” says Temper. “If the Puppetmaster is watching your every move, shouldn’t we find a way to discuss this in secret?”
I nod. “Normally that would be true, but his attention is divided right now. If he used his full power he could get into the head of anyone in this room, but he’s weak. It’s unlikely he can get past the drifter barriers right now, or mine, or my grandfather’s. Which leaves you three.” I turn to my ungifted friends. “You have to learn to block.”
Lebz squeaks, Wiki frowns and Kelly beams.
“I can teach you,” Ntatemogolo speaks up. “Basic blocking – nothing fancy.”
“Thanks, Ntatemogolo. That should be enough. But that brings me to the next point – I can’t tell you the plan.” A murmur goes up and I hold up my hands for silence. “I can tell you what you need to know to get it done, but that’s all. Just to be safe. And I’m going to be communicating telepathically, so prepare to have your heads invaded.”
No one seems particularly pleased about this, but whatever. This is war.
“You can’t communicate telepathically with all of us,” says Elias. “And you’d have to get past our barriers first. It’ll take you for ever just to say one sentence!”
Sigh. Clearly my little demonstration in the warehouse wasn’t enough. I call up my gift, invite the Ultima to join in, take a deep breath, and proceed to prove him wrong. The intertwined green and blue wires of light shoot out of my head and into the minds around me. I smile. It’s so easy now.
What was that you were saying? My voice is loud and a little cocky, reverberating in my head. I can tell by the gasps and stunned murmurs that my little trick worked. OK – our little trick.
Mandla offers me a grudging nod of approval. Of all the drifters, he knows the most about mind control. His gift is putting people into a pleasant cloudy daze, like being heavily doped on happy pills.
I frown, concentrating on my next task. I have a message for the drifters alone. I send my will out to the others, gently withdrawing my consciousness from their minds. In a few minutes only the connections to the drifters remain.
Rakwena has a special job, I tell them, and you’re all going to have to help him. His telepathy is powerful, but it needs to be more controlled. I’m talking laser precision, guys. The Ultima can enhance his power and control, but not enough for my purposes. You must help him practise until he can dice onions with his gift.
They exchange dubious glances. I know what they’re all thinking – that will take a lifetime. Drifters, unlike other gifted, aren’t in the habit of honing their gifts. When all is well with the cell the gifts are strong and effective, and for the short time drifters have existed that has been enough. When you have a cell and a clan behind you, there’s no need to strive to master your gift. So many things come naturally to them that they take them for granted. Well, they can’t afford to do that any more.
I sever the connection with the drifters and move on to Wiki, Lebz and Kelly.
I need some info on the structure of the human brain. A lot of diagrams would be great – the clearer, the better. I need to know the different parts of the brain, how they work, what they do, and what happens when they’re damaged.
They look at each other. Wiki’s nod is firm and determined, Kelly’s eager and excited, and Lebz’s relieved. I bite back a smile; she probably thought I was going to have her fighting on the front lines.
I turn to Duma. He’s engrossed in conversation with Spencer until he senses my presence in his head and turns to face me, eyes wide and enquiring.
I need to know what happened while you were with him, what you saw, what you heard. I know, I go on, as his thoughts remind me that he doesn’t remember. But the information is in your head, and I’d like permission to look for it.
He nods and smiles, happy to be of service. To think he could have been badly hurt – or worse – during that altercation between the two factions of the army… But he wasn’t. I should focus on that. I return his smile, and then walk over to my grandfather. He’s been quiet throughout these proceedings, letting me take charge despite his views on my discernment – or lack thereof.
“So far so good,” he says grudgingly. “Your talent is indisputable, but that will not be enough. If the Ultima is the Puppetmaster’s creation, using her power could backfire.”
“If so, the Loosening will carry on until it devours the whole world. I don’t think that’s what he wants. He wants it destroyed. He wants to see what the Ultima can do.”
“And after that he claims his prize.” Ntatemogolo scowls in disgust. “You and Rakwena. And you think you can stop him?”
I smile. “Yes. What I’m about to ask you to do is complex. I don’t think it’s ever been done before.”
His frown remains in place but his eyes twinkle. I’ve piqued his curiosity. “Tell me.”
I slip into his head and outline my plan. After I finish he’s quiet for a long time. “Am I being too ambitious?” I ask.
His lips curl in a reluctant smile. “Yes, but that is nothing new. I believe your plan can work if we are very, very careful. But Connie, please remember who we are dealing with. He must have anticipated an attack and taken steps to neutralise it. I still believe there was a reason for those three meetings beyond telling you his story.”
“What reason could there be, Ntatemogolo?”
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “But I know you. You will put this plan in motion no matter what I say.”
I look into his eyes, prepared to stand my ground, and then something inside me shifts. This time I don’t need the Ultima to tell me what the moment calls for. I rise to the occasion all on my own, and take a massive leap of faith. “If you forbid it, Ntatemogolo, I won’t do it.”
The room grows quiet; the others must have heard my shocking announcement, but I’m not done yet.
“I respect your advice. We disagree on the Ultima but I know that you have my best interests at heart, and you are still the wisest person I know. If you tell me not to do this, I will send everyone home right now.” Part of me is screaming. It’s the part that never listens and always thinks she’s right. I ignore her.
My grandfather’s eyes widen. “And the Loosening?”
I shrug. “The Ultima will have to find another way.”
He looks at me for a long time. No one speaks. I’m holding my breath, hoping I made the right call. I need my grandfather on board. This plan can’t succeed without him, so if he’s uncertain there’s no point.
“You really have changed,” he says. “In the past you would never have shown such trust. I see the new energy that inhabits you, but I also see my granddaughter. She is brilliant and brave, a true gifted warrior. I will do what I can to help you succeed.”
I’m so relieved I throw my arms around him, though I know he’s not a hugger and displays of affection make him uncomfortable. I blink back tears. Damn, that was a good speech. I wish I’d recorded it. “Thank you.”
“Don’t make me change my mind,” he murmurs, and I release him hastily. He glances at my ungifted friends and raises his voice so they can hear him. “Tomorrow, two p.m., my house. Be punctual.” He starts towards the door.
“Are you leaving already?” I blurt out.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Unless you want me to start working on it tomorrow.”
“Oh!” I’m thrilled at his eagerness. “No, please go. And thanks again.”
He nods, smiles and exits the room.
“Yoh, that was deep!” declares Elias, and everyone laughs.
“OK, guys!” I clap my hands together, feeling a little like the overpaid facilitator of one of those fancy seminars. “Let’s get cracking – we have a lot to do.”
I’m dizzy with relief and nerves. Literally. My head starts to spin and my eyes sting, and then the images come. Blinding red light, nine buried quartzite rocks, screaming voices…and something that looks like a giant thermometer. Instead of mercury, it’s filled with blood. The thick red liquid is climbing higher and higher. In the background the sun sets, then rises, sets, then rises, and sets again. One night and two full days. When daylight returns, the blood has reached the top of the thermometer. It explodes, sending fat red droplets raining over the world, and then everything goes black.
When I come out of it I find myself on the floor, my friends surrounding me. Rakwena’s arms are wrapped around my waist, pulling me up.
I blink, swallow and offer everyone a weak smile. “I’m fine,” I whisper. I cough, still dazed, my head ringing.
“Premonition?” asks Rakwena, and I nod.
“You mean she gets like that every single time?” That sounds like Reetsang.
“I’ve never seen one this bad,” says Wiki. His voice is only slightly shaky.
I cough again, certain that the Ultima was behind this particular premonition. It was a little more dramatic than my usual premonitions – like something out of a bad movie. I’d laugh if it weren’t so distressing.
“I saw the Loosening,” I announce, and everyone falls silent. My voice is still hoarse; I cough again to clear it. “There was red light and it felt like I was being split in two. The most important thing is that it seems we have a deadline.” Ten pairs of eyes regard me expectantly. I sigh. “It’s a little tight.”
“When she says a little, she means a lot,” says Lebz, glaring at me.
I let Rakwena lead me to the sofa. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
Temper sits on my other side. “What do you mean, there’s a deadline? You know exactly when the Puppetmaster plans to come for you and Rakwena?”
“No, but I know when the Loosening is going to blow. It’s already highly unstable – soon it will be impossible to conceal.” I rub my temples. “Basically we’re going to have the equivalent of a supernatural bomb on our hands, and I have no idea what kind of damage it’ll cause. We have to execute the plan before then.”
“So how long do we have?” asks Rakwena. He keeps his arm around me.
I bite my lip and look at the tense faces around me. “Two days.”
“Two days?” exclaims Spencer. “You expect us to get everything done in two days?”
Everyone bursts into protest.
“It’s impossible!”
“We might as well forget about it.”
“That’s just crazy…”
“I know it’s crazy!” I yell above the din. “Believe me, I know. But we don’t have a choice. The Ultima is going to stop the Loosening no matter what – it’s the reason she’s here. And if that happens before we’re prepared, that’s the end of me and Rakwena, and life as we know it. Because the Puppetmaster will carry out his plan, which ensures none of us will ever be free again. I don’t know about you, but I suspect that a supernatural dictatorship will be worse than a natural one, and I’d rather die than let the gifted be enslaved by a maniac.”
The room falls silent again. Temper is the one to break it. “You realise that’s a possibility, don’t you? Dying.”
I look up into his eyes. “I’ve always realised it. Now, I’m going to ask you again and I need you to answer honestly. Can you help me or not?”
“Help us,” says Rakwena, and holds out his hand, palm down. “Who’s in?”
The drifters don’t hesitate – there’s no way they can refuse to help a brother. Wiki and Kelly are just as certain. It’s Lebz who hesitates, but only for a second. One hand covers another, and mine comes last.
I beam round at them. “Thank you.”
“No sweat,” says Spencer. “Time to kick some Puppetmaster butt!”
Hope you heard that, John. On second thought, hope you didn’t.
* * *
The next twenty-four hours pass in a haze of furious training. When I sleep I take the sleeping draught, just to be safe. The Ultima no longer needs dreams to communicate with me, anyway. Ntatemogolo drops by to give me a few magical objects to practise on. I unlock their secrets and then rework the spells by inversing the process – retracing my steps.
After a few hours I’m exhausted. Dad pops in to check on me, and freezes in the doorway when he sees the random objects littering my bedroom floor.
“Training?” he asks, and I nod.
He hesitates, and I can tell he’s torn between curiosity and wariness. Wariness wins. He backs out of the room after wishing me luck, and returns to the world he understands.
The next afternoon I go to the drifters’ house to see Duma and check on Rakwena’s progress. The house is uncharacteristically noisy. I step into the kitchen and hear odd hissing and spitting noises, as well as the voices of the drifters, alternately cheering and groaning. It reminds me of the sounds I used to hear when Dad had friends over to watch political debates.
I peer into the living room, then duck as a flash of blue light shoots past me, hitting the wall and sending flakes of paint flying. I watch the flakes fall to the floor, then turn to look at the deadly weapon that is Rakwena.
“That was really good,” I marvel, glancing up at the nick in the wall. Knowing Rakwena, it’s a miracle he didn’t blow a hole right through to the other side.
“No, it’s not,” snaps Reetsang, who’s standing a few metres in front of the wall. He raises the cushion in his hands, which has a big circle drawn on its top right corner, right next to a fresh singe mark. “He was aiming for this.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Ah. I see your point.”
Rakwena glowers at Reetsang. “I’d like to see you try to hit a moving target with laser precision!”
“But you’re not trying!” cries Reetsang. “You’re not focusing!”
“Come on, that’s not fair,” counters Duma.
An argument breaks out, but it doesn’t last very long. Temper yells, “Quiet!” and everyone falls silent. Instantly. Schoolteachers across the world, take notes.
Temper turns to me. “Hi, Connie. As you can see, emotions are running a little high.”
I nod. “Sorry to put you all under pressure, but it is what it is. You’re doing well, though,” I tell Rakwena. “You’ve really narrowed your focus. You’ll be fine.”
Reetsang mumbles something, and Rakwena’s head swivels in his direction. “Shut up and hold up the cushion,” he grumbles.
I hurry past him; I don’t want to get caught in his crosshairs. I sidle up to Duma, grin at him and incline my head in the direction of the door. The two of us head outside, ducking to avoid Rakwena’s next shot.
“Hey!” he cries, as we dash past. There’s a loud cracking sound; he’s broken a window.
“Sorry!” I straighten up and hold up my hands in an apologetic gesture. “It’s just a crack, look! Not even shattered. Awesome job, really.” I hurry out before he can turn his gift on me.
Duma and I sit on the veranda. “I don’t think you’re going to find anything useful in my head. He was very careful. I saw nothing but the room I was in.”
“Let me try anyway.” He’s right, though. He lowers his barrier, but all I can see are small, narrow memories of a dark room and the Puppetmaster creeping into Duma’s thoughts. I’m about to withdraw, disappointed, when I pick up something. The memory is tinged with something other than fear.
He blinks as I leave his mind. “Anything?”
“You were confused,” I report, frowning. “Why? Was there something strange about the room, or the Puppetmaster’s behaviour?”
His eyes widen slightly – he didn’t expect me to notice that. “I didn’t think that was important.”
“Everything’s important. What was going on?”
He shrugs. “Well, he was in a bad mood. Impatient. I sort of got the feeling that he was scared. He was in a rush, like someone who left food on the stove or something. I thought he was just panicking because time was running out.”
“But it’s more than that,” I whisper. Suddenly Ntatemogolo’s words come back to me, the words he spoke when he first told me about the Loosening, and what could happen if it wasn’t done properly. People could be destroyed. Not killed. Destroyed. I look at Duma. “How many gifted could you sense while you were there?”
He blinks. “Um, I don’t know. Four, I think. No, wait – there was Emily and him as well, so…six.”
“You’re sure?”
He nods.
“There should have been seven. He has five people, and if he stripped one then the person should have come back. But no one’s come back.”
Duma’s eyes widen. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing good.”
It means there’s an excellent chance that one of his victims is no longer with us. They have been removed, as Ntatemogolo said, from the very fabric of existence.
* * *
One day down. I wake up early, eager to get back to work. First stop – Lebz’s place. Wiki and Kelly are there, putting the finishing touches on the information I requested.
Wiki makes one last note, then hands me the File. I flip through the last few pages. It looks spectacular. Not only are the notes comprehensive, there are also several colour-coded illustrations.
“Wow,” I breathe, turning the pages. “This is incredible!”
“Wiki got most of the information, and Kelly and I typed up the notes,” Lebz announces with a touch of pride. “Looks good, huh?”
“It looks fantastic, thank you!” I close the File, thrilled with their work, and beam round at them. “I hope your session with Ntatemogolo went as well as your research.”
They exchange glances. “It was rocky at first,” Wiki admits. “Because of the time constraints we had a group session.”
“For six hours,” adds Lebz, rolling her eyes.
“And how far are you? Can you build barriers at all?”
Kelly grins. “Why don’t you take a look in our heads and see for yourself?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You sound confident.”
She laughs. “I always sound confident, Conz.”
Hmm. “OK. Put up your fences, let’s see what you’ve got.”
It would be easier to do this one by one, but I need to keep challenging myself, so I send my gift out to the three of them at once. The barriers come up immediately. I smile. They’re nowhere near as sophisticated as the ones I’m used to, but for brand-new barriers, formed by ungifted, no less, they’re formidable. I send a telepathic shout-out to my grandfather. He is, hands down, the best teacher in the world.
I make a half-hearted attempt to break through the barriers, and to my surprise they stiffen in response.
“I felt that!” gasps Lebz.
“You were meant to.” I withdraw. The barriers won’t keep the Puppetmaster out, but they’re enough to throw him off. In his weakened state I suspect he won’t bother trying to break them. In any case, blocking is a useful skill to have. “I’m impressed.”
“Your grandfather’s a slave driver,” says Lebz, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t let us rest at all!”
“Is that how he is with you?” asks Kelly.
“Sometimes.” I grin at them. “You guys have been amazing, by the way. I can’t even begin to thank you.”
“You have your whole life to make it up to us,” Lebz assures me.
“What’s going to happen now?” asks Kelly. “When everything is ready and the Ultima has reached full power and the Puppetmaster…you know.”
I shrug. “Hopefully the plan works, the Ultima stops the Loosening and the Puppetmaster disappears for ever in a puff of purple smoke.”
Lebz chews her lower lip. She’s looking at the floor, the desk, the bed – anywhere but at me. “But it’s just going to be you and Rakwena. No backup.”
“I think the Ultima is all the backup we need.”
She nods. “Sure, but…” She finally raises her eyes to mine. “What if you’re wrong? What if she’s on the other side? Or what if she has her own agenda? What if she doesn’t care about what happens to you?”
I smile. “I trust her, and I think she trusts me.”
Lebz looks dubious. I don’t blame her. I’m worried, too. As well as I think I’ve come to know the Puppetmaster, the fact remains that I’m not aware of the full extent of his power, which means I’m not entirely sure what Rakwena and I are up against. This is a man who changed his nature through sheer force of will, who taught himself two gifts – that I know of – by observing others and then replicating their abilities. He didn’t steal the gifts, which would have been difficult enough. He chose the more challenging path. That’s who he is. He pushes himself. If he has found a way to trap the Ultima and he sets it in motion before Rakwena and I have a chance to attack, it’ll all be over.
But my friends don’t need to hear that. I have to be confident and strong for them as much as for myself. I need to act like I’ve got this under control. Fake it till you make it, right?
* * *
My next stop is the drifter house. Rakwena is passed out on the carpet, fully dressed, when I come in. I remember he once explained his unusual sleeping patterns to me – either he sleeps with one eye open, so to speak, or he becomes practically comatose. As I look down on his still figure I can tell this is the latter situation.
“Good luck waking him.”
I look up to see Spencer standing in the doorway, dressed only in a pair of shorts. I try not to look, but he’s right in my face and frankly he’s too beautiful to ignore.
“Could you put on a shirt?” I ask weakly.
He laughs. “Good to know I’ve still got it,” he teases, as though he could ever lose it. Instead of complying with my simple request he comes closer, peers at Rakwena and kicks him hard in the shin. I gasp in horror, but Rakwena doesn’t even stir.
“Told you,” says Spencer. He yawns, shattering his sex appeal slightly, then continues on his way to the kitchen.
I drop to my knees beside Rakwena. He’s snoring softly. I smile and touch his face. He’s lovely like this. Innocent, peaceful – vulnerable. Too vulnerable. I lean close to his ear and hiss his name. Nothing. I shout into his ear. Still nothing. Wow.
My gift approaches his mind. Even asleep his barrier is up, unlike mine. I withdraw and shift position so we’re face to face. I kiss his forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. He tastes of sugar, and he’s still asleep. I kiss his lips again, with more force this time, and next thing I know his arms are moving around me, pulling me against him. Ahem. Clearly that tactic was a little too effective.
“Morning,” he purrs, his eyes half open, his lips curled into a lazy smile. His voice is all husky from sleep, and Spencer’s earlier display of hotness pales in comparison. My breath catches in my throat.
“Almost afternoon, actually,” I tell him, trying to extricate myself from his embrace.
His arms tighten around me. “Five more minutes.” He kisses my temple and closes his eyes.
I want to protest. No, I don’t. I surrender, close my eyes and let my body melt into his. After all, we might be dead in twenty-four hours, or as good as. I’ve been trying not to think about that, but now, lying in his arms, I can’t think of anything else. We might not make it. This could be the first and last time I get to kiss Rakwena awake. If the Puppetmaster wins, we’ll be turned into… I don’t know. Living robots, I guess.
He sighs against my forehead, his breath hot. “We should go. We don’t have a lot of time.”
I nod, but make no move to get up. It’s not until I hear Spencer’s snort of mirth that I inch away from the wonderful comfort of Rakwena’s arms.
“Desperate measures, eh?” says Spencer, as he walks past with a mug in his hand.
“Jealous,” drawls Rakwena, with a cocky grin.
Spencer laughs. Rakwena sits up, then gets to his feet and helps me up.
“Remind me never to sleep on the floor again,” he groans, stretching and cracking his knuckles.
I lean into his chest. “You should take a shower. I’ll get you some food.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll shower at home – there’s more space. Let me tell the guys I’m leaving.”
I wait outside near his car, and a few minutes later he emerges. We reach his place in five minutes. I set up while he takes a shower and changes his clothes. After a quick meal, we’re ready for one last practice session.
I’ve produced several photocopies of the notes my friends made – especially the illustrations. I paste one of them to the wall and point at the amygdala, which is highlighted in yellow. “I want you to outline this section here. Can you see the line?”
Rakwena nods, his jaw tense with concentration.
“Good. Follow the line exactly, or as close as you can get.” I feel the Ultima stir. No, I tell her. He needs to do this on his own.
She subsides until I can barely feel her presence. Rakwena stands perfectly still for a long moment before raising his hand. His eyes burn blue. He traces the shape in the air with his finger, and on the paper a thin line appears around the highlighted section. When the line comes full circle the highlighted piece floats to the floor, leaving an amygdala-shaped hole. I examine the paper. The line falls just within the yellow edges. Almost, but not quite.
Rakwena drops his hand and looks at me.
“Fantastic. Now I want you to do it with your hands at your sides.”
An hour later he can draw the line with his hands at his sides and no blue light in his eyes. I applaud, and he takes a weary bow. I walk over to the bag I brought with me and retrieve a plastic model of a human brain, slightly smaller than life-size. I had Dad pull a few strings to get it for me. I set it on the dining table. Rakwena raises his eyebrows, sighs and gets to work.
It’s another two hours before I’m satisfied. We spend another half hour going over the details of the plan, then take a break, curling up on the sofa in each other’s arms.
“You’re going to have to be on your guard the whole time,” I whisper into his chest. “I’m not going to be able to protect you.”
“Hey.” Rakwena nudges me. “I should be the one protecting you.”
“Says who?”
He shrugs. “Tradition?”
I look up at him. “I’m an eighteen-year-old mixed-race telepath, you’re a nineteen-year-old coconut half-drifter, and we’re about to take the fate of the world into our hands. There’s nothing traditional about us.”
He chuckles. “I can’t argue with that. Still, though. When we get there, to that place between worlds where the Loosening is, I don’t want you worrying about me. You focus on what you need to do, and let me handle everything else. Deal?”
“Deal.” The Ultima’s influence will boost our gifts, but it’s good to know we’re at the top of our game with or without her. We’ll need to be sharper than ever to pull this off.
Rakwena has another meal, downs half a bottle of undiluted orange concentrate and then takes me to Ntatemogolo’s house, our last stop before we leave for the warehouse.
My grandfather is waiting for us in the living room, with the front door ajar. The lines in his face look a little deeper than usual. Rakwena waits in the living room while Ntatemogolo and I go to the consultation room.
“The time has come,” he says, lowering himself to the mat. “Every instinct is telling me to come with you, but I know he will not let me in. If, by some miracle, I were to make it into his world, he would kill me without another thought. And still I want to come with you.”
“We’re going to be fine.” My voice sounds strong and confident, belying my emotions. “We’re ready.”
“Ready.” Ntatemogolo lets out a long breath. “At your age I had barely built a solid barrier, and here you are, marching off to war.” He waves one hand in a dismissive gesture. “But there is no time for all that. I have done what you asked. It involved a visit to Henry Marshall, and another to Duma. I could not find Jafta. It was tricky, but I managed to complete the…Trojan, as you call it.”
Of course he did. There was never any doubt in my mind that he would. I swallow, excited and afraid.
He nods and lowers his barrier. “Take it.”
This time there is no magical object. There is only a spell, constructed from the energy signature the Puppetmaster left in the minds of his victims. My grandfather has left it at the front of his mind for me to solve. Because of the time constraints, a complex spell was out of the question. I asked him to make it as simple as possible, and he did. It’s a ball, made up of countless tiny strings of energy. The Ultima bubbles up inside me, and with her eyes I can already see that this spell has only one key.
I take a mental snapshot of the ball, and once it’s in my head I begin the process of unravelling it. Thread by thread by thread, until I can see the underlying pattern and the single word that unlocks it. Then, with painstaking care, I bind the threads back together, lacing them around the key, making sure I’ve copied the energy patterns exactly. I’ll only have one chance to unleash it, and I can’t afford to make a mistake. Finally I nod. “I’ve got it.”
Ntatemogolo’s shoulders drop; he was holding his breath. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“Doubting you.” He sighs. “I did not want to believe it. After so many years of thinking that the Ultima was nothing more than a legend, I could not accept your version of the truth. I think of myself as a wise man, far more knowledgeable than most. If she were real, I would have known.” He raises his gaze to mine. “I sensed a power at work in you but I refused to believe it was the Ultima. Until now.”
My eyes widen. “You believe me?”
He nods. “The amount of power required to create what you asked is immense. Finding traces of the Puppetmaster’s energy was easy – all I had to do was hold Marshall’s hand and let my gift work. But releasing those traces from his limited psychic energy was far more difficult. There was a moment when I thought I was going to fail. It was then that I felt my gift expand, and sensed that there was power at work beyond my own. My gift increased tenfold, as the legend says. I felt it happen. It was then that I realised that I had let my pride blind me. You were right. The Ultima is real. I can’t explain her existence, but I can’t dismiss it, either. Not any more.”
I’m too moved to speak. I knew he’d come around, I just didn’t think his realisation would be quite so dramatic. That Ultima sure knows how to get things done. “You don’t have to apologise, Ntatemogolo. You were trying to protect me.”
“And yet you are no longer a child,” he says softly. “You are a young woman now, and I can no longer keep you under my wing.” He leans forward to touch my cheek. “I’m not as wise as I think.”
“You’re wiser,” I counter. “And you taught me well.”
He smiles. “Come – there is not much time.”
We get to our feet. “I need you to do one more thing for me, Ntatemogolo.”
He nods. “Of course, my girl.”
“Stay with Dad until I get back. I haven’t told him where I’m going and he’s not going to handle it well. He’ll need you.” I reach into my pocket for my house key and press it into his palm.
“I will go as soon as you have left. Be careful.”
I manage a small smile. “I will.”
As I walk to the door, he pulls Rakwena aside and they exchange a few whispered words, then Rakwena and I climb into the car, wave and set off to save the world.
“What did he say to you?” I ask.
“Oh, he just told me if I don’t keep you safe he’ll cut me into pieces and use my organs for muti.” His tone is light, but I can sense the underlying fear.
“He’d never use your organs for muti. He might cut you into pieces, though.”
“Thanks. That’s comforting.”
The drive is tense. We’re quiet, thinking about what lies ahead. The daylight is fading, and by the time we turn onto the road to the airport all that’s left of the sun is a few ribbons of orange on the horizon. We leave the car in the same spot as before and continue on foot.
The warehouse is gone – the Puppetmaster no longer has the energy to maintain the illusion – but I can feel the energy pulsing in the air. We walk until we’re standing in the general area where the warehouse used to be. I reach into my bag and take out the puzzle box.
“Wait.” Rakwena pulls me against him and kisses me, catching me by surprise. The tingle is sharp, almost painful. “For good luck,” he whispers when he pulls away.
I open my eyes and look into his; blue points spin in his irises. “Your eyes.”
He blinks. When his eyelids rise the blue dots are gone. “Better?”
I grin, marvelling at his control. “Perfect.” I take a deep breath. No more stalling. I glance at him. He nods. I take the puzzle box in both hands, summon my gift, and let the Ultima loose.