The Lost Tohunga (7 page)

‘Revolting man,' muttered PC Robyn as she led Hine into a bare room. ‘We picked him up last night, urinating in a drinking fountain at one in the morning. Some people you feel sorry for, but there's something about him …' Her voice trailed off, and she glanced at Hine as though embarrassed to have said so much.

PC Robyn went for tea, while Hine tried not to think how badly Mat and those two tourists might have been hurt. Sometime during those few minutes, she lost her remaining courage. When PC Robyn came back, she said as little as she could, before asking to see Evan. PC Robyn made an exasperated noise, and ignored her request. ‘Do you know this Matiu Douglas? We took him to A&E — he has broken ribs.'

‘No, I've never met him before. We'd only said a few words, see. I'm sorry he got hurt,' she added truthfully.

‘What about the two Germans? One has a broken nose and both have concussion. Do you know them?'

‘No, they just wanted to help, I guess. Pretty dumb, huh?'

‘It's not dumb to help a person in need, Hine,' PC Robyn told her in flat tones. ‘Evan and his associates will be bailed, you know. They'll be out in twenty-four hours.'

A vague hope he might be locked away for a while vanished.
Which means I've got to make it up with him
. ‘Let me see Evan!' she pleaded. ‘He's my boyfriend. Ain't it my right?'

PC Robyn rolled her eyes. ‘Very well,' she said grimly, standing up. She hit a buzzer, and a big Maori cop came in. ‘This is PC Tamati Richards. He'll take you through. Your
boyfriend
is in the middle holding cell.'

Hine nodded and got up. They took her back down the corridor to the holding cells, a room full of cages just like in a movie. The room fell silent, and she felt that horrible tramp watching her. Then Evan leapt to the front of the cell.

‘Hey, baby! I'm sorry! I didn't mean nothing! Are you okay?' He looked sincere, repentant.

She nodded numbly, unsure now what it was she wanted to say.

‘I still love you, baby,' he said in that voice he always used to melt her heart. ‘I'll be out tomorrow and we'll make it all okay.'

Suddenly a bizarre noise froze her. The tramp had got up and stalked to the front of his cell. A wave of putrid air washed the room as he began to ululate like an American Indian; slapping his mouth and whooping, his eyes locked on her. ‘It's you!' he shouted, his tones incredulous. ‘It's you!'

Everyone stared, and then Evan lunged through the bars from his cell, grasped the tramp's jacket, and wrenched him face first into the bars. ‘Don't look at her, you stinking ape!' Evan bawled, his face centimetres from the tramp's. The officers in the room converged, but the tramp's face just split into a huge grin.

‘She's
your
woman?' he asked, his eyes bulging.
‘Excellent!'

Suddenly the room went black, then dazzlingly white, and black again, as though a massive strobe light was flashing on and off. Faces and expressions changed with each flash, but Hine's gaze was fixed on the tramp and Evan. She saw the tramp exhale, and a cloud of shadows seemed to well like a serpent from his lips, and pour into Evan's open mouth. Evan's face went wide in sudden panic, and he tried to tear himself away, but the darkness kept flowing into him, and then he was
reeling away. She screamed and suddenly everything stopped and reverted to normal, the room reverberating to her cry.

The tramp turned and looked at her, his expression vacant and lost. He fell against the bars, tried to grip, then toppled backwards. She screamed again as the officers leapt towards his cell. ‘It's just a power fluctuation,' PC Tamati told her, although his face looked haunted.

Evan had fallen between Ronnie and Brutal, who peered down at him in bewilderment. Then he sat up, and looked straight at her. She saw darkness gather behind his eyes, felt that serpent baring fangs at her, and found herself trying to push her way backwards through the wall. ‘Nooo! Nooo! It's in him, it's in him! Don't let him out! Evan! Evan! Noooo!'

The Evan-thing began to laugh, blowing her kisses from where he sat on the floor. In the next cell the tramp convulsed, gurgling. Constable Richards took her in his huge arms and dragged her towards the door. The tramp went rigid with a rattling noise in his throat. Then Evan slowly turned his head, raised his finger and pointed at her. Right at her, right at the spot between her eyes, and he smacked his lips, just like the tramp had earlier.

She swallowed a sob as PC Richards pulled her away.

 

When next she was aware, she was in a car outside Evan's house.
Her house.
It was twilight. The dark was creeping through the city, street by street. PC Tamati Richards was driving; PC Robyn had her arms around her and was cuddling her like a mother. ‘Shhh, Hine, we're here now. We're going to go in and collect your things.'

She let the cop hold her; she was frightened of being let go. ‘Did you see it?' Hine whispered. ‘Did you see the snake? It went into his mouth!'

She saw Tamati and Robyn glance at each other. ‘Easy, lass,' said Tamati. ‘It's a shock to see someone die, but you're okay now.'

‘But the lights flashed … and the snake, the snake …'

‘There was no snake, Hine. There's no snakes in New Zealand. It's okay. We'll get you in and out of here as soon as possible.'

They had seen nothing. There hadn't been anything. She was hallucinating. She was mad. And they seemed to be acting like she had said she would go to the refuge after all.
I never said that
… But the thought of being home when that Evan-thing returned appalled her. She nodded meekly.

The front door opened and Ko came waddling out, concern all over her face. Robyn helped her out of the car, and Ko gripped her in a huge bear-hug, tears running down her face. ‘Lovey, lovey, oh lovey, are you okay?' She touched the wound on her cheek. ‘What's happened? Deano came running and said you was all arrested. Is Ronnie with you? Is Ronnie okay?'

‘Ronnie's okay. But I've gotta go, Ko. Like you said: I've gotta go.'

Ko's face widened. ‘Tonight? Oh my …'

‘I gotta, Ko. Evan caught me talking to this guy, and beat him up.'

‘Oh, honey, you shoulda known better. Evan's so jealous.'

So it's my fault?
She felt a sudden anger at her friend, had to stop herself from shouting something she would regret. ‘He was no-one, Ko. Just a kid who said “hi”. Nothing was going
on. But now Evan's gonna do me for it.'

Ko wrapped her arms around her, and that nearly started her crying again, but she must have used up all her tears for now. She felt hollow and chilled to the bone.

PC Robyn laid a hand on Hine's shoulder. ‘I'm sorry, but we need to keep moving.'

Ko glared, but slowly let Hine go. They all went inside, and she stopped, wondering what to do. They had to lead her into her room. It was a pigsty, as usual. Unwashed clothing and tangled sheets strewn about. Unwanted memories of her and Evan together surfaced, but she pushed them away. Robyn followed her in, sniffed with distaste, and gave her a plastic rubbish bag. ‘Pile your things into here. I've got plenty of them. Do you have possessions in other rooms? What can I do to help?'

It didn't take long to empty the two drawers she used, and clear her side of the wardrobe. She took a tiny jewellery box and tucked it into a pocket, her toothbrush from the bathroom, the dregs of a perfume bottle. ‘That's all.' She hung her head. ‘I ain't got much.' She realized she still had Ko's hoodie on. ‘Ko, this is yours …'

Ko wouldn't look at her. ‘You keep it, lovey. Is too small for me now. You keep it, eh.' Brandi came out, looked at the cops, and shrank against her mother's legs. ‘Brandi-babe, you give Aunty Hine a hug, there's a girl. Aunty's got to go away for a while.'

Brandi shyly hugged Hine, who felt her tear ducts recharging. She squeezed the girl and prayed Brandi would never have to go through this herself.

Tamati looked at his watch. ‘We've got to go, Robyn.'

PC Robyn nodded, running fingers through her hair then replacing her hat. ‘Okay, Hine?'

Ko seized Hine and squeezed her tight, crying again. ‘I'll be in touch, Ko,' promised Hine. ‘I'll see you again, I will.' She wished she could tell Ko about the tramp-thing, but how could she explain it? She dropped her voice, and said only, ‘Evan is evil. You and Ronnie have got to leave, Ko. Please!'

‘When we can, honey.' Her voice sounded hopeless. ‘You take care, lovey. You take good care.' She looked at Robyn and Tamati. ‘I'm holdin' you two personally responsible, you hear? Anything happens to her …'

The two cops fidgeted awkwardly. Hine backed out the door, her hands trembling so much she had to stuff them in her pockets. She needed a smoke, badly.

Robyn walked with her to the car while Tamati talked into his radio. She looked back at the house, at Ko and Brandi silhouetted in the front door, the light behind shrouding them in shadow. She waved hesitantly, and then allowed Robyn to help her in. Everything seemed fluid suddenly, as if the ground were an illusion cast over a huge dark lake, and she was about to be swept beneath the surface. Into the deep water.

They took her to the Women's Refuge, a big old house only a few blocks from Evan's house. It didn't seem far enough away. Robyn was speaking but all Hine could think about was that she had only tonight in which to find somewhere to hide before that Evan-thing came looking for her.

When she stepped from the car, in front of the refuge, her heart fluttered. She shouldered her bag of things, while Robyn went ahead. The street was empty. Tamati was bent over his cop radio. She took a few steps, then looked around as a
small
woof
sounded in the shadows of the building. Godfrey was there, his tail wagging. She went to the dog, unnoticed by Robyn who was knocking on the door. She knelt, stroking his fur.

‘Hello, lass,' said a quiet voice, English-sounding, throaty and down to earth, melodious and resonant. ‘I'm Aethlyn Jones. Godfrey and I have come to take you home.'

She looked up. Standing back from the dog was an old man with a rough whiskery face, a pipe hanging out of the corner of his mouth, shapeless clothing, and unkempt grey hair. He held out a hand. Godfrey rubbed against her leg, and then walked to Jones and licked his other hand. That decided her, somehow.

She held out her hand. He took it in his callused but gentle grip, and they walked away down the side of the building, and were gone.

 

Robyn and Tamati searched for her all night. They tried every street, every known place that the girl could have gone to, to no avail. At dawn they issued a missing persons report before getting dressed down by the local police chief for letting the girl out of their sight. But Hine Horatai was gone.

Sunday

D
onna Kyle stared at the mirror, mourning all she had lost. Her once-perfect nose was crooked and scarred; a puckered reddish-pink ridge cut a jagged line across her face. Her skin felt like old paper. The moko on her chin had faded to grey and her lips were bloodless. She turned from the looking glass, unable to bear the beaten visage it held.

She was in a war, and she was losing. She hadn't realized how much she had depended upon Puarata's gifts. He had given her a stream of little trinkets and potions that did this or boosted that. She had once thought it was her skill that had brought her to his side, elevated her above the others. She had imagined herself his most powerful acolyte, but now she knew better.

I was just his favourite whore.

When he died, his trinkets had also begun to fade. What did she have left now? The binding words to enslave a few fairy beings of limited power. A little influence among the tipua tribes. The mana of having been Puarata's woman, such as it was. Little else. She now knew her talents were no better than the others', no more than even that pig Sebastian Venn's.
Venn!
Damn the man!
He had taken everything. All that was hers by right, he now held. And damn all those vile men, clubbing together against her. He had bought the loyalty of everyone, turning her into an outcast.

She had fought tooth and nail, but it had been hopeless. She was no general. She had no money. The bikers and mobsters she managed to woo were nothing against his mercenaries with their fat contracts. Even her supernatural allies failed her. She sent hau hau or tipua, but he countered with settler soldiers, armed with guns and well disciplined. Her forces had disintegrated. Those few apprentices of Puarata's circle that had joined her were dead. Bryce had fled south after that debacle at Waikaremoana.
Weak bastard!
Only Kurangaituku still stood by her, and she was mad and utterly untrustworthy. The Ureweras were lost. Venn controlled the Lodge she had once thought of as home. He had legal title to all of Puarata's property and the manpower to back it up. His pre-eminence among the northern warlocks was undoubted. Bryce still held the South, but he was refusing to aid her. Unless she swore service to him.
Never!

The war went on covertly, nevertheless. Information and clues were traded or stolen, murders arranged and carried out. Most thought her defeated. But she knew of one way back. Te Iho … her last hope.

Venn didn't even know! He thought this war was all about property and wealth. But Puarata had been more than rich and influential; he had been the mightiest tohunga makutu ever known, and Venn was no Puarata, not in the field of makutu.

To truly inherit Puarata's mantle required Puarata's secret
lair:
Te Iho, The Heart
. Puarata had told her of it, but had never taken her there. Without Te Iho, victory or defeat was incomplete. She was now certain it wasn't in the Ureweras. Best of all, Venn did not even know it existed.
Venn can rot in the Ureweras
, she told herself.
Let him think me defeated. I shall return, possessing might undreamt.

A flicker in the mirror caught her eye, and she turned in fright. There was a man there, in the glass, staring back at her. A man clad in velvet with a foppish hat and furs at his throat, like some Renaissance potentate. His furrowed, clean-shaven visage was framed in long, silver hair that floated strangely, as if underwater. ‘Hello, Daughter,' he said laconically. ‘Feeling sorry for yourself?'

Her world lurched. ‘
Father?
' She had tried hard to forget that mental warning that had saved her from Rothwell a year ago. She had almost convinced herself she had imagined it. Almost.
‘Father?'

‘Donna, my dear. You look anxious. Let me help you.' His voice sounded pained, sympathetic. ‘Let me restore you to what you once were.'

Too many emotions flooded her: hatred, for what he had done to her; betrayal, that he had failed her; contempt, that he had been so foolish as to go up against Puarata; anger; bitterness. ‘What are you? Some kind of ghost?'

‘No ghost, Daughter, for I did not die. I am merely a prisoner, here in the darkness.'

‘A prisoner,' she breathed. Her fury at him welled up. ‘The mighty Asher Grieve, trapped? I hope you rot there for eternity!'

Asher's eyes narrowed. ‘Trapped, aye,' he hissed.
‘Imprisoned and bled dry by your
lover
, because you betrayed me, you ungrateful little sow. After everything I gave you.'

‘Everything you gave me?' she echoed derisively. ‘You gave me away!
I was eight, Father
. You gave me to that bastard, and he
destroyed
me!'

His lip curled. ‘Destroyed? Fool! We
made
you, my girl. You were ignorant of your potential. We freed it! You were to be co-ruler of this world when I became king! As I would have if you hadn't turned on me. You sided with
him
, and condemned me to this prison!'

‘Why should I have sided with you, you monster? You
sold
me! Did you expect to get me back for free? For some kind of deluded family loyalty?'

Asher Grieve's face twisted nastily. ‘Loyalty? Yes, I expected loyalty from my only acknowledged child! Especially as I sought to free her from the man she claimed to hate so much! I had every right to expect a daughter's loyalty. I took a bed-wetting cry-baby and gave her the tools to
rule
. But poor little Princess Donna didn't like getting her hands dirty, and didn't have the guts to seize her chance —
our
chance!' He leant towards her, as if straining against some invisible bond. ‘I would have made up for every hurt he inflicted upon you, but you didn't have the courage to see it through!'

She flinched at each word, her legs wobbling. ‘Did you have a point to make?' She wished her voice didn't sound so quavery.

He lifted his right hand, clutching a walking cane with a crystalline lion's head on the tip. ‘Yes, my daughter, I do. You are seeking Te Iho. You cannot be victorious without it.'

‘I know that,' she replied scornfully.

His face floated closer, until it almost filled the mirror. ‘You cannot find it without my help.'

She felt her skin become slick. ‘You, help me?' Her voice betrayed her desperation.

‘Yes, Daughter, you cannot find it without me. I wish to help you. But how can I trust you, you who so thoroughly repudiates me? No, there is only one way I can trust you.' He smiled. ‘Pledge your soul to freeing me, and I will guide you to The Heart itself!'

She backed away and sat on the bed. It was that or fall to her knees. A
Pledge
… she knew what he meant. This was no empty promise that could be broken. This was an oath that harmed the swearer if broken. The sort they all swore to Puarata. The breaking of that Pledge had been part of the fatal weakening that enabled Puarata to defeat Asher's revolt.

Not to you, Father!
She straightened, and raised a hand. ‘Burn in hell or rot in prison forever, Father. Just don't talk to me again.' She exerted a little force, and the glass shattered. His cry of pain sweetened the feeling of vindication.

But in the hours afterwards came the fear, and then the certainty, that she had just doomed herself.