The Lost Tohunga (11 page)

And as for Matiu Douglas … Jones's protégé … her hand went to the scar on her face.

Revenge was overdue.

Wednesday

H
ine woke. She had been dreaming of Evan and felt hot beneath her blanket even though the air was cold. The sofa was too short and her neck was sore. Godfrey was pressed against her, and light crept under the curtains. She could hear Jones in the kitchen, and could smell coffee, but she needed more time alone, to think.

Was that demon-thing still inside Evan? Was he looking for her? The heat drained from her body in a rush. She shivered, pushed Godfrey off the sofa and sat up, trembling. Thinking didn't seem such a good idea all of a sudden. Godfrey gave her a reproachful look, and walked out with his head in the air.

She talked with Jones again over breakfast, and all through the day. He walked her a little along the lake to better view the town, but he wouldn't take her in. ‘It is best no-one knows you are here,' Jones told her. ‘Gossip spreads, you know, even in small mythical towns.'

Well, that sounded about right: gossip was universal. It surprised her how much she could just accept all this. It was as if she had always known this place existed, and had just been waiting to find it. She had to also admit that what she
had seen Mat do, making fire dance in his hands, was holding her here. Could she really do that, too? Or shift between worlds as he could? If she could learn that, well that was an education worth having! No maths and history and boring shit! To learn magic, and be able to protect herself! That was worth knowing! That was worth living like a hermit for a while. That was worth any sacrifice.

 

By dusk, when they sat smoking on the back porch, they had reached an accord. When Jones had made sure the Evan-thing was gone, he would help her find a place to live nearby, in the real world. But she would come here every day, and he would teach her: stuff she had need to know to get by, like how to manage money and do numbers and stuff. And maybe, if she had the aptitude, he would teach her
magic
. Make her into a witch, a good witch, so she could look after herself and her whanau. It was a good deal.

‘But you'll need to make some sacrifices,' he told her.

‘Sure, whatever,' she agreed casually, her head swimming with possibilities.

‘No smokes, no drink. No coffee. No drugs. No mentioning me to anyone. No meat would be preferable. And no sick days.'

‘You hypocritical old bastard,' she told him. ‘Look at you, you smoke that ghastly relic of a pipe, you have a whisky still in the shed, you drink coffee like it's ya mother's milk, and don't think I can't recognize marijuana in your garden either!'

Jones smiled agreeably. ‘Guilty on all counts, lass. And you didn't even mention Widow Calder down the road. But it's not
me we're talkin' about. It's all about you, lass, and learning during your
formative
years. I've been through all that — it isn't important now: I'm fully formed. You still have to become
yourself
.' He jabbed the pipe handle at her. ‘T'will do you good, some clean living for a change.'

‘Clean living!' She swore at him, passionately, called him nine kinds of bastard, and he responded in kind, in a totally genial manner that nevertheless wound her up. It turned into a profanities competition, which became more inventive and hilarious as the evening progressed. The sun fell below the tree line, and shadows stalked towards them. The air cooled, and somewhere a morepork hooted.

She suddenly shivered for no reason. Godfrey woke, and sniffed the air. He growled a little.

Jones looked down at him. ‘Aye. Let's go in,' he said.

Hine looked at him with sudden concern. ‘What is it?'

‘Just a smell in the air, lass. Best we're inside.'

‘I thought we were safe here?' she asked.

‘No more than half a dozen people in Aotearoa could find this place without me wanting them to,' Jones replied. He opened the door for her. Godfrey slunk off into the night. ‘God'll have a look round, don't you worry.' She noticed he kept that heavy walking stick close by, and felt a queasy sense of foreboding, the bush suddenly a gloomy and grim place. They seemed awfully alone. But the cheerful lamp in the kitchen drove the shadows away, and although she jumped when there was a scratch at the back door, it was only Godfrey wanting to come in. He yapped a couple of times, then went to the empty food bowl, which he stared at in apparent disgust.

‘Don't worry, Godfrey, dinner soon,' she told the turehu.
‘What does he look like in his real form?' she asked Jones.

‘Like a goblin,' the Welshman answered, stirring some stew. ‘Ugly little bugger.'

Godfrey growled at him, but Hine swore that he winked as he did so.

They had just sat down to eat when suddenly Godfrey began to bark furiously, and then the cottage shook as something smashed against the front door.

Hine screamed as Jones leapt to his feet, snatching up the walking stick, and ran to his room. He emerged a couple of seconds later, armed to the teeth. A big sword was in his fist, and he thrust an old pistol, like something from a pirate movie, into his belt before hefting another.

The house shook again.

‘Take this!' shouted Jones, thrusting a long, sharp kitchen knife into her hands. She stared at him, then cried out as a dark face pressed against the kitchen window.

 

Mat had slept poorly, unable to get Hine's face out of his head. Finally he woke, well past dawn, when Mum battered on the door. ‘Mat, are you awake? Have you done any study at all yet? Get yourself out of bed, and have some breakfast.'

He looked at the clock, and realized it was nearly midday. She's right, he acknowledged, and resigned himself to a day with his books. They went to Mum's school and she did some prep for next term, and he took his maths books. He couldn't get his head into it though, and hours passed without any new facts imprinting themselves on his memory.

Finally it was time to go. He had agreed to spend the
evening with Mum. ‘I don't see why your friends should monopolize you,' she had remarked tartly when he had floated the idea of going round to Cass's place to play video games. They shopped for groceries and rented a DVD, something called
The Usual Suspects
, which Mum said had a cool ending. For once, he would rather have watched a romance, with a sultry dark-skinned lead actress, like Jessica Alba maybe. Someone who looked a little like Hine …

‘You're very quiet,' Mum remarked when they got home. ‘What are you thinking about?'

He affected nonchalance. ‘Oh, you know. Maths, exams, career … you know.'

She smiled. ‘Mmmm … so, what's her name then?' She laughed when he blushed. ‘Mat, you're a treat! You've been mooning all day, and it can only be a girl. Anyone I know?'

‘No … ah, yeah.'

‘So there
is
one!' she leapt on his words triumphantly. ‘Not this girl you were chatting up with the nasty boyfriend, I hope?' she said sharply.

‘No! Okay, yes, her … but I wasn't chatting her up!'

Mum frowned, looking somewhat put out. ‘Well … so, what's her name, then?'

‘Hine.'

‘Is she pretty? Where does she go to school?'

‘Ummm … yeah, I think, well, she's kinda left school.'

‘Really? How old is she?'

‘Eighteen, I think.'

Colleen frowned. ‘Hmmm, well that's not so good. She should be getting the most out of her education. It's sad when a young person drops out of school early, and doesn't make
the most of themselves. You take care, Matty. A girl like that mightn't be very suitable.'

Suitable?
He felt a swell of annoyance. ‘You don't even know her.'

‘But I know lots of girls just like her, and I know you can do much better than a dropout,' retorted Mum.

‘That's not fair! You know nothing about her!'

‘Oh, Matty, hush. I was a teenager too, you know, and not so long ago. I'm not saying anything but “be careful”. You don't even live here. What's the point of getting mixed up with a local? Especially with someone whose boyfriend beats people up! The police called today and said he got bail, so if you see him around, you're to call them.'

‘Yeah, I know.' Right now, he wouldn't mind him showing up, makutu body-jumper or not. He felt cross and edgy.

Then the doorbell rang, and Mum answered the door. It was some friend of hers with orange spiky hair and black leathers on. She looked kinda Gothy, and said ‘Hi' without introducing herself.

‘We're just putting a movie on,' Colleen announced for the benefit of the newcomer.

‘Sure.' The voice was vaguely familiar.

Mat was still simmering over Mum and what she had said about Hine.
What does she know, anyway?

The movie was about halfway through and he was making no sense of it, which was apparently the point. Mum's friend was bugging him because she never said a word, flashed her teeth a lot, and seemed to be watching him out of the corner of her eye, while stroking her fishnets as if she had never worn them before.

Mum paused the movie. ‘Shall we have a coffee?'

Mat sighed. ‘Yeah. I'll get it,' he offered, before he was told to anyway. He stood up. ‘What'll you have, Missus … um?' He realized he still hadn't been given a name for Mum's friend. He peered at her, and then several tumblers fell into place and the safe-box marked ‘recognition' dropped open. ‘CASS???'

‘It took you long enough,' Cassandra told him tersely.

 

To say it had seemed like a good idea at the time wasn't really true: it had sounded naff. But Cass was so pleased to have the braces off, that it seemed a small thing. She was due a haircut anyway, and she was over the dreadlocks. Too stinky and people assumed it meant she liked reggae (ugh!). Besides, she liked to change her look regularly and keep people guessing. So she let Colleen's hairdresser cut them off, and somehow got talked into a spiky thing like Colleen had had in the 'eighties. After that, well, here she was in Colleen's old leathers that she had never thrown out, wearing make-up for the first time ever.

Colleen had looked almost tearful when she let her in the front door. ‘Oh my!' she had said, putting a hand to her mouth, then tracing Cass's cheekbones with her fingers. ‘You look so …'

Cassandra put a finger to her lips. She didn't want to know what she looked like, and this was beginning to feel like a silly game. She was only going with it because she liked Colleen.

When she was young, the doctors had told her parents she was ADHD and autistic, and her mum had left soon after.
Join the dots on that one
. Somehow it had gone round school, and she was The Freak from then on. So she had embraced
it. Being Different had become who she was. Let others deal with it.

And now … Mat was staring at her like she was Exhibit A, having taken an hour to recognize her. She hated it. She felt like she was dressed up in lies. ‘Get an eyeful, Mat, cos I'm wearing my own stuff for the rest of the hols.' She tapped the armrest impatiently. ‘I'll have a cola.' She glanced at Colleen, who was studying them both.
Colleen wants Mat to like me, instead of that Hine. Too bad. He's a lost cause.

Abruptly she stood up. ‘Look, this is silly; I feel ridiculous. I'm going home. I'll bring you these clothes back tomorrow, Colleen!' She suddenly felt close to tears and she had no idea why.

‘Cass, wait!' Mat blurted. She half-turned. Colleen looked upset, and was opening her mouth …

They all heard it. The dull but distinct sound of a window being forced at the back of the house.

 

Mat froze, and looked at his mother, then Cassandra. ‘Ring the police,' he hissed above the movie soundtrack. Cassandra —
Jeez, she looked different!
— nodded curtly, reaching into a pocket, then she scowled and cursed softly.

‘Not my jacket,' she hissed. She looked suddenly helpless. He looked at Mum.

‘Mine is on the recharger in the kitchen,' Mum told him.

‘I'll go out the back and check it out.' He slipped out of his chair, and peered down the hallway. All he could see was the open kitchen door. To the right, out of sight, was the bathroom and toilet. Something rattled in the bath, and he thought
immediately of the shampoo bottles on the window ledge above the bath. He slipped across the hallway and retrieved the taiaha from his bedroom. Mum came to the lounge door, chewing her lip, her knuckles white. Behind her, Cassandra was peering out a window. He wished she wouldn't: she was too visible and exposed.

He met Mum's eye, and nodded at the phone, which was on a shelf by the front door. She tiptoed towards it, while he went the other way, to the far end of the hallway where it turned a corner. Something smelt up here, like an animal, musky and earthy. A shadow moved in the kitchen. Had they left those windows open too? Behind him he could hear Mum begin to dial. The noise filled the silence.

Suddenly there was a deafening howl, and a dark shape erupted from the kitchen. As it came, the light stripped it of size. It was shorter than him, wiry and pale-skinned, a narrow hairless skull with a moko carved into its face like a mask. Its eyes were slitted amber, and triangular teeth flashed as it charged, flailing a sharp-edged bone patu. It was a tipua, a goblin of Aotearoa.

It clearly expected him to be paralysed by fright. He wasn't. Stepping in, he jabbed with the taiaha, slamming it past the patu and into the twisted little face, bracing his feet as it came. The wooden shaft smashed the creature's nose, shattering it in a splash of black-green blood. It arched its back as if shot, and fell backwards, but another sprang from the bathroom. Windows smashed on both sides of the house, and the glass panel on the front door cracked under a sudden blow. Mum screamed and he heard the receiver drop and hit the wall. In the lounge, he heard Cassandra swear as glass shattered.