The Lost Tohunga (9 page)

Monday

M
at woke stiff and sore, but he was in one piece, and over breakfast he reassured his mum that it was just one of those things. The doctor had told him his ribs were ‘probably just cracked or bruised', and sent him away. They didn't strap ribs any more, just prescribed rest. Three months and they'll be fine, the nurse had said, as if this was good news.
Three months!
That was halfway to forever! And the really annoying thing was that if it hadn't been so public he could have taken down those goons in seconds, but, with so many people watching, using magic was out. ‘Some idiot thought I was chatting up his girl.'

‘Were you?' Mum responded, as though this was more important than his ribcage.

‘No, Mum, I wasn't! I didn't even know she had a boyfriend. He was a skinhead arsehole, with mates who looked like Uruks from
Lord of the Rings
. They beat up some German guys who tried to help me, too. Poor fellas; they kept saying they didn't think this sort of thing happened here!'

He managed to convince Mum that gangland thugs weren't lurking outside waiting to get him — something he was by no
means sure of — and then told her he had to go tell Jones that he couldn't train. He called Cassandra along the way and met her by the kauri tree. He had texted her from the hospital and said he couldn't go swimming, but hadn't said why, so his beat-up look was something of a shock to her. He was telling her what had happened as they walked, but seeing Hine on Jones's veranda stole his breath away.

She was in a colonial dress, and she looked … breathtaking. She was a vision, out-of-time, luminously beautiful. He wanted to take her hand and kiss it and tell her exactly how lovely she seemed to him. Unfortunately, before he could get that elegant thought processed, another less cultured part of him gasped, ‘What the hell are you doing here? Uh — I mean: “Hi”.'

She suppressed a laugh. ‘Jones found me, and brought me here. And Godfrey, of course.'

Cassandra looked at Jones. ‘Really?'

‘Yes, really,' said Hine loftily. ‘What are you two doing here, anyway? Do you know Jones?' she demanded, as though Jones was
her
friend alone.

Jones came to the rescue. ‘Mat, Cassandra: Hine is my guest. She needed rescuing from her former boyfriend, and Godfrey suggested we do the rescuing. Hine, Mat is my pupil.'

She looked at Mat with renewed interest. ‘Your pupil? What do you mean?'

Mat went to answer, but Jones interrupted. ‘Just a few skills I happen to know and he has an affinity for, lass.'

Hine looked at Cassandra. ‘And you, too?' she asked, still struggling to take the girl seriously. Her eyes flicked to Mat.
Surely they're not dating?

Cassandra shrugged a bony shoulder. ‘Just a friend,' she said coolly. She patted a satchel overflowing with wires and cabling, and looked at Jones. ‘I'll get busy then,' she told Jones, pushing past.

Jones peered at Mat. ‘Let me take a look at your ribs, lad. You look like you need a poultice and some strapping.' He took him back to the kitchen and made Mat strip off to the waist so he could examine his ribs.

Mat was burningly conscious of both girls' eyes on him, but mostly of Hine's. She was no doubt comparing his battered torso with that of her neo-Nazi-super-he-monster ex-boyfriend. ‘The doctor said that they don't do strapping any more; it's old-fashioned,' he told Jones.

The old man grunted. ‘Mmm. So am I.' He laid a big thick bandage on the table, then began pulling out clay pots from his herb shelf. ‘So, we'll be wanting some arnica for the bruising, comfrey for bones, and cloves and camomile for the pain. Maybe some aloe vera, too. What do you think, God?'

Godfrey barked thoughtfully, and Jones pulled out something else and added it to the pot. ‘True, an antibiotic wouldn't hurt … echinacea perhaps?' He turned to Hine. ‘As for you, do you know how to operate an old colonial-era washing machine and wringer?'

Hine shook her head.

‘Well then, as soon as this poultice mix is on the stove, I'll take you out and show you. You didn't think you were free-loading here, did you? Guests have to earn their keep!'

Cassandra smirked as she wired up a clock.

 

Jones took Hine out to the wash house, while Mat stroked God's head and daydreamed. Cassandra was talking about electricity again, but he was thinking about Hine's face. Eventually Cassandra rather huffily went silent. When the old Welshman returned, he got Mat to recount the previous day's events. He had already had to tell Cassandra all about it. Mostly he was worried for Mum. ‘I don't want Mum threatened for something I've done,' he told Jones.

‘That's not the real issue, lad. The girl told me something that makes me fear much more than some gangland thug with a grudge. Do you remember the tramp we saw in the stone the taniwha sent us? Well, I think I know who he is.' He told Mat about the vision that Hine had had in the cells, of the dark serpent shape that seemed to move from the tramp and enter her former boyfriend, Evan.

‘I believe that what she saw was an evil spirit moving from the tramp to a fresh host. That evil spirit is an old enemy of mine called Parukau. Do you know the name?'

‘Parukau?' Mat shook his head. ‘Never heard of him.' He noticed Cassandra was listening intently.

‘He was Puarata's right-hand man, centuries ago. I was on his trail at one stage, and found out his history. Do you know the tale of Peha?'

Mat shook his head again.

‘Peha was a famed carver,' Jones said, sitting down and lighting up his pipe. ‘Of course he was more than an ordinary carver — his carvings had power. He had an enemy, though; a man from a neighbouring tribe called Parukau, who practised makutu. One day Peha was in the forest seeking wood when the forest fell silent, and he heard sinister laughter. He found
himself pursued by a disembodied head floating above him. Parukau's head! He didn't panic, though. He went to Parukau's pa, and found it deserted. But he found Parukau, buried up to his head in the earth, seemingly dead. He dug him out, thinking to bury him properly. But as soon as he was free of the earth, Parukau leapt up and fled.

‘It was near dusk, so Peha slept in the deserted pa. Next morning, Parukau was outside the whare door, looking up at him. As their eyes met, he felt energy surge into him, and then Parukau fled, and was never seen again. Peha returned to his tribe and ascended to supremacy soon after, as all could see that he burned with new vibrancy and power.'

‘Weird story,' Cassandra put in. ‘What does it mean?'

Jones started, as if he had forgotten she was there and might not have spoken if he had. ‘Well, many interpret it as a positive story, that Peha overcame Parukau's sorcery, and became stronger. But I think what really happened was quite the opposite: that Parukau's spirit entered Peha's body — especially in light of what happened next.'

‘Which was what?' asked Mat.

‘Well, it seems Peha had a long and prosperous life. He was a virtuous man, and a powerful tohunga. He was able to master Parukau's spirit. Parukau struggles to control good people. He can only truly control those of similar nature to himself. But when Peha died, another tribesman, a nasty piece of work, took to calling himself Parukau. The tribe cast him out, and he vanished. Soon after, a new war lock entered Puarata's service, also called Parukau. He would change body every few years. I believe it is Parukau that has taken possession of Evan, Hine's former beau.'

‘He's no-one's “beau”,' said Mat, bitterly. ‘Beau means “handsome”, but he was an ugly bully, and from what you're saying that's before this makutu spirit got into him.'

‘Then Parukau will have found an apt body to house himself in,' Jones commented grimly.

Hine came in, and Jones gave Mat a cautionary look, then set the girl to preparing lunch whilst he steeped a poultice of clothes and herbs, drained it, and strapped it tightly to Mat's chest. Then he sat back and looked at the three of them, clearly making the decision to include Hine this time. ‘Listen, I'm telling you this because you need and deserve to know. What you thought you saw at the police station was real. Evan Tomoana really is possessed by a body-jumping spirit. He is called Parukau. He will likely stay in that body for some time if he can. And you should all avoid him. If you see him, stay away — you hear?'

Mat nodded, while Hine looked at the floor, nodding slowly. She didn't display any shock, which surprised him. He wondered how she was feeling. Although she had left Evan to go to the refuge, she must have felt something for him once.

Jones prodded Mat's strapped chest. ‘No exercise today, lad. I recommend you go home and rest. But I'll expect you here tomorrow to check progress. My medicine works quickly. Now, let's have lunch.'

Jones made it clear he wanted more time alone with Hine, so after lunch Mat and Cassandra said farewell. Hine followed them out the front door and onto the lawn. ‘Hey,' she said softly to Mat, ‘I shoulda said this already, but thank you for standing up to Evan like that. I think you're really brave. Dumb, but brave.' She leant in close, and kissed his cheek.

He flushed scarlet, beamed and backed away, feeling like a child. He floated on air all the way home, his cheek tingling all the way, and the pain of his ribs forgotten. Cassandra trudged beside him with a funny look on her face he couldn't quite pick.

 

Hine watched Mat go with a wistful smile. He seemed so young, even though they were the same age. But he had grown up surrounded by love, even though he had mentioned over the meal that his folks were divorced. He had not had to go through any of the shit she had. He was just a kid, really. She envied that, she realized suddenly.

Jones appeared at her shoulder. ‘Have you thought up any more questions yet, lassie?'

‘Uh, yeah, plenty!' Hine answered. ‘Why me? Why did I see that thing, and no-one else in the whole police station? Why did Godfrey come and help me? And who is Mat really? What did you mean about him being your pupil?'

Jones smiled. ‘You're thinking about it all; that's good. Pull up a chair — I've got a lot more to tell you.' They sat down, but instead of answering her questions immediately, he asked her one. ‘Tell me about what you dream.'

‘What I dream?' she puzzled whilst lighting up. ‘Well, I'd like to be a nurse or, well, anything really so long as I can earn some money and …'

‘No, lass,' he interrupted softly. ‘I want to know what you
dream
. About the visions that you see when you sleep. As Bromel once said, “Dreams are the windows of the soul”.'

She put the weirdness of the question aside, and took a
drag on her ciggie. ‘Water. There's always water in my dreams.'

He nodded slowly. ‘I thought you'd say that, lass. Tell me about it.'

So she talked again, wondering at herself because normally she was so quiet. Maybe all her words had been storing themselves up, waiting their chance. She told him about her dreams of swimming, and of freedom, and breathing water and revelling in weightlessness. She also told him of the horrible shark dreams, and the drowning ones, and the ones where the deep water followed her onto dry land. She seemed to re-live them as she spoke, and her cigarette went out in her hand without her realizing it.

‘Aye, aye,' was all Jones said when she finished, and he patted her hand gently. ‘I thought so.' Then he sat back, and began to tell her more about Aotearoa, and the more he told her, the stranger it seemed.

Monday afternoon

A
fter they left Jones's cottage, they walked in silence for a while. Cassandra had promised to come over and help Mat with a maths assignment that afternoon, although she wasn't really in the mood. But she dutifully walked back to his place, where they set up on the dining-room table and she walked him through it, feeling like a teacher with an airheaded pupil.

It's not like I fancy Mat that much. Really! It was just annoying how his tongue hung out whenever he looked at that Hine chick.
It was times like this when boys didn't seem worth the effort.

‘Hi, you two!' Colleen, Mat's mum, bustled in with an armful of grocery bags. ‘How's the maths going?'

‘Okay,' Mat said desultorily. Cassandra smiled; she liked Colleen, who had a bit of sparkle to her, not like Mat's dad. Colleen paused to stare at her, take in her latest look, and went through to the kitchen. A burly, balding man followed her a second later: Neil, her boyfriend. He peered at her suspiciously, nodded at Mat and went into the kitchen.

Mat was going hard out on some algebra, so Cassandra left him to it. ‘Thanks, Neil; catch you later,' she heard Colleen
say, and glimpsed her pecking the man on the lips before he left via the back door.

Cassandra slipped into the kitchen. ‘Can I help with the groceries?'

‘I'm fine, Cass,' she replied in her lovely Irish lilt. ‘But a coffee would be grand.'

‘Okay.' Cassandra organized some cups, and filled a plunger with some ground coffee. She had taken to coffee herself this last year, black and sweet. Dad had a cool espresso machine.

Colleen stacked her shelves, eyeing Cassandra up. ‘You know,' she commented, ‘when I was your age, I was a little punkette, and only dressed in black leathers.'

Cassandra grinned. She couldn't picture it. ‘Nah!'

‘Oh, 'tis true. I can show you.' Colleen lifted a finger. ‘Wait here!' She was back with an old photo album a minute later. She flicked it open to some Polaroids of white-faced teens wrapped around each other in close-knit presses. ‘There!'

Cassandra peered at a skinny girl with vivid red hair swept up in a wind-tunnel 'eighties style, clad in skimpy Goth-like leathers and fishnets. Her face was dead white with violent red lipstick, and she was smoking and drinking. The boy she was draped over had a Mohawk and pierced lips. ‘Wow!' she breathed.

‘Total tramp, huh?' Colleen smirked. ‘I was into The Cure and The Mission, and drank like a fish.'

Cassandra flicked over a few sheets of posing teen Goths, and then suddenly there was a serious-looking redheaded girl in a ball gown on the arm of a young Maori in a tuxedo. ‘Wow! You just changed your look overnight!'

Colleen nodded, her eyes faraway. ‘Yeah. I met Tama at a
bar, and he was fun to talk to, and I really liked him. He never said so, but I could tell he thought I was nice enough, but too freaky to actually date.'

‘So what happened?'

Colleen looked at the roof wistfully. ‘I dropped everything. The look, the crowd I hung with, the works.'

Cassandra felt offended at the thought. ‘You just changed everything for a guy?'

Colleen laughed softly. ‘It was more complex than that. It was the last year at teacher's college that I could mess around before it got serious. There were standards of appearance required. I wouldn't have been allowed to carry on as I was and still graduate. And the drugs and the drink were hurting my results. I needed to grow up. Meeting Tama was the catalyst.'

‘Did you miss it?'

Colleen laughed. ‘Oh, heavens, no! The next few years were the happiest of my life. Tama and I fell madly in love, we both graduated and set up a life together. It was grand!' She smiled sadly. ‘Although I still can't listen to “Friday I'm In Love” without wanting to suck on a clove cigarette!'

Cassandra looked at her warily. ‘Are you trying to tell me something, Mrs O'Connor?' she asked suspiciously.

Colleen blushed, just like Mat when he was caught out. ‘No! Well … I do see a little of myself in you.'

‘I'm totally happy,' Cassandra told her, gently but firmly. ‘And I don't need any fashion advice.'

‘Oh, I know, dear.' Colleen looked at her thoughtfully. ‘When are those braces due off?'

‘First week back at school!' she replied, brightening. ‘It's been three years. I was a chronic thumb-sucker,' she admitted.

‘Hmmm. What are you doing tomorrow morning?'

‘Why?'

‘Well, Neil is an orthodontist, and I'm sure two weeks isn't going to make too much difference. Shall I give him a call?'

‘Could you?' Her eyes went wide. ‘Really?'

Colleen smiled. ‘Let's see, shall we?'

Tuesday morning

Jones was waiting for Mat in the real world, under the willows on the lakefront, puffing his pipe. Mat's ribs felt twice as stiff and sore as yesterday, a fact he wasn't slow to mention to Jones. ‘Well, we'll see, laddie. That poultice may not be recognized by modern medicine, but it's never let me down.'

The old man was wearing a long coat and he had his sword buckled on, a flintlock pistol in his belt. The walking stick he was leaning on was iron-shod. ‘Are you expecting trouble?' Mat asked.

Jones frowned. ‘There's a little too much going on to wander about unarmed right now. Godfrey is nervous, which makes me edgy, too.' He looked about. ‘Anyway, that's not why I met you halfway. I just want to let you know something important.' Mat put on his most attentive face, wondering what it was. Jones's face was as serious as he had seen him. ‘Mat, Hine is not an ordinary person. I know you're quite taken with her, but you shouldn't get your hopes up in her direction. She's been through a bad time. She needs to get herself together, not start a new entanglement. Are you hearing me?'

Mat sucked on his lower lip.
I only want to talk to her
, he wanted to protest. ‘I guess …'

Jones twirled his walking stick at a dandelion head. ‘There
is something you need to know about her. But you must never tell her what I'm going to tell you.'

Mat nodded, surprised. ‘I promise.'

‘One of the quirks of Aotearoa is that sometimes it throws up some strange things that are reflected in the real world, instead of the other way around. I call it the “avatar phenomenon”. In mythology, an avatar is the shape that a god takes when on earth. Sometimes a person is born in the real world who is an embodiment of a mythic being. Hine is like that. She is associated with Hinemoa, the legendary woman who swam to Mokoia Island on Lake Rotorua to be with her lover, Tutanekai. Hine dreams of water, has nightmares of water, thinks of things in terms of water, tries to act like water even — to flow about obstacles instead of confronting them. Water is tied to her destiny. I've met three other Hinemoa-avatars. They all looked exactly like Hine, and were born in Rotorua.'

‘Are you saying that she's not a real person?'

‘Goodness, no! She is as real as you or me. But she is also Hinemoa, the embodiment of a legend, and one day, that part of her will claim her. It is a type of destiny.'

‘Am I an avatar too?' Mat asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

‘No, lad. You're an Adept, someone born with the abilities to manipulate the fabric of the two worlds. You're like me.'

‘So are you saying that because of this “avatar” thing, I can't be … um, friends with her?'

Jones shook his head. ‘Think about the Hinemoa legend, boyo. In it, she swims Lake Rotorua to meet her
lover
, Tutanekai. His role in the tale is as crucial as hers. Somewhere
out there, Tutanekai is waiting to meet her. Her destined lover, the
only
man who can make her happy.'

Mat felt his tiny half-formed hopes wither away. Aotearoa seemed needlessly cruel just now. He had been looking forward to seeing her. Her kiss still played on his cheek, and had kept his mind straying all through the maths homework, and through the night.

Hine was waiting on the veranda, smoking. She was wearing her own clothes, including the oversized hoodie. Mat wondered if Jones would try to nag her to stop smoking. She had a very serious, faraway look in her eyes, but when she met Mat's eyes, a slow smile blossomed on her lips. He wondered if Jones had warned her off him, too. He smiled back, and the world seemed to shrink to just him and her.

‘Hi, Mat. Uh, where's Fre— uh, Cassandra?'

‘She's off doing something with my mum,' Mat replied. He found himself looking at her differently, looking for signs of her ‘avatar' status. How could you tell?

Jones coughed for attention. ‘You, milady, have some floors to sweep, I believe? Mat, you need that poultice changed.' Jones bullied them apart, muttering to Mat: ‘You're not going to make this easy on yourself, are you?'

Beneath the strapping, Mat's ribs were yellow and purple, as if a huge bunch of violets were flowering beneath his skin. Jones looked pleased, saying that the poultice had accelerated the healing process, and he set about boiling up another one.

After the new poultice was bound on, warm and damp against his skin, Mat went out the back to see what Hine was doing. He heard her singing a pop song as she churned the laundry in soapy water. ‘Crappy old pile of junk,' she muttered,
looking up at Mat. ‘It's like being on an old-time movie set. I can't wait to get back to dishwashers and television.' She eyed Mat up. ‘I guess Jones must've told you about me?'

‘A little,' he replied, not sure what she meant.

She leant against the door. ‘I ran away from home, cos my stepfather … well, anyway, I ended up living with Evan … Now I'm running away from him, too. So, I didn't really get to be a teenager — not like you,' Hine told him, her tones slightly resentful. ‘All the people I know are like me. Runaways and from broken homes, life in the shit lane. Never had money, left school young. I don't know much about anything, really, 'cept being kicked around.' Her voice almost cracked, but her eyes were dry and watching him. ‘I think you're really sweet,' she said. ‘But you're just a kid, really. I like you, but we ain't even from the same planet.'

You don't cut corners, do you?
‘Sure. That's cool,' he replied as nonchalantly as he could. He told himself he already knew all this. He just wished it wasn't so, because when she forgot about being a tough gang girl, she was really nice. ‘You should stay here with Jones. He won't hit on you, and he'll look after you. No-one can reach you here.'

She gave a small, bitter laugh. ‘I can't stay in this backwater. I mean, Jones is nice an' all, but I'm a city girl. I gotta have people round. I'd go nuts here.'

‘But there's Taupo — I mean, the Taupo here in Aotearoa. Taupo-nui-a-Tia. Soldiers come through, and the local tribe. And … well, I'll be round every few months.'

She shook her head. ‘I don't wanna live in a bloody pa, or settler village. I want movies and TV an' stuff. I gotta learn some skills, get a job.' She looked about her. ‘This is like that
Neverland place. You can visit, but you can't live here. Well, I can't.'

‘But here is the only place where you can learn this.' Mat held up his hand. It was an impulse, and he wasn't sure it was a good one. He had become suddenly worried at never seeing her again. Or maybe he just wanted to impress her. He let a small tongue of fire burst from his palm, a pale red-yellow tongue that hovered above his hand, warm but not burning.

She gasped and backed away.

‘You want to learn how to do this?' he asked her. ‘Maybe you could, like me. This is the only place I know where you can learn how.'

Her mouth was wide as her eyes as she backed out the door, then turned and fled.

Oh, hell …

 

Finally, Jones came out. He sat down beside Mat, and ruffled God's fur. ‘Maybe you want to stay away for a couple of days, lad. She's a bit “freaked out” or so she says.'

‘I'm sorry. That was really dumb.'

Jones pursed his lips. ‘Aye, it was, boyo. She's scared, and dealing with too much at once. Abusive boyfriends and leaving home are no picnic. Alternate realities, demon possessions and boys who can conjure fire — well, that's way too far. She's resilient but she needs rest, or she's going to go backwards fast and we'll be dealing with a nervous breakdown. So, let's just tread carefully, okay?'

Mat put his head in his hands. ‘But she's one of us! She has to stay!'

‘No, she doesn't
have
to do anything. And avatars are not Adepts — there is no saying what she can and can't do! She might have the potential, if trained. Or not. Some do, some don't. I'm just going to listen a lot, talk some, and then give her some choices.'

Mat exhaled guiltily. ‘Sorry. I hope I haven't messed things up too much.'

‘Remember what we said before, Mat: she's not for you. I know you want to meet the perfect girl, like any teen. Be patient! Learn from the Lena experience! The universe provides, if you give it time.'

They walked back through the house, and out the front door. As he was going, Hine slipped through the door, red-eyed and fragile-looking. ‘See ya,' she said, and put her arms around his shoulders, pressing her cheek to his. ‘See you in a few days.'

He hugged her back, then reluctantly disentangled himself. He backed away, his eyes only on her.

Suddenly he was flailing for balance as he tipped off the veranda, landing on his backside in the long grass. The two goats peered in bemusement, while Hine giggled, then bent over and roared. Jones joined in, with a burst of throaty guffaws. Mat tried to be cross and failed, and soon all three of them were laughing so loud the clearing echoed. The strapping about his ribs hurt, and he was reduced to clutching his sides in pain.