Crowned. Cheryl S. Ntumy
my friends kill me.”
“Right.” He takes out his wallet and shoves a P20 note at me.
I thank him and sprint out of the building.
* * *
Lebz and Wiki are waiting in a corner of a restaurant when I reach the mall. I slide into the seat opposite them.
“Sorry I’m late.” I snatch up Wiki’s menu. “I’m dying for a milkshake.”
Lebz snatches it back. “First things first. What happened with the Puppetmaster?”
I roll my eyes in mock boredom. “Oh, that.”
“Don’t joke,” Wiki chides me, frowning. “We’ve been worried. You haven’t said anything besides that SMS describing the meeting as ‘cryptic’.”
“It was cryptic. I feel as though I understand him a little better now, which was probably the point, but it was nothing like I expected.”
“Now you’re being cryptic,” Wiki protests.
“Details!” Lebz hisses. “We’re not ordering until you give us a full report.”
My stomach growls on cue, so I launch into a detailed account of the meeting.
“He’s nearly two hundred years old,” whispers Lebz with a shudder, when my report is done. “That’s just wrong.”
“There are still a lot of questions,” says Wiki. “What is he after?”
“And did he mean it when he said he’d take action against anyone who hurt you?” Lebz looks uncomfortable at the idea.
I shrug. “I think he meant it. Emily said the same thing. But it’s not like he really cares – it’s just that I’m useful to him. It’s like the way you’d protect your phone. Speaking of phones, have you guys heard the news? Flights being delayed, signals disturbed and stuff? It’s happening in other places.”
“Isn’t it meteorological?” asks Lebz. “Weird weather patterns, climate change?”
I give her a sceptical look and turn to Wiki. “Any theories?”
“Military,” he says. “You think it might be freaky weird, don’t you?”
Freaky weird means supernatural weird, the kind of weird that is my specialty. I nod and share my theory that the disturbances are linked to my growing gift and the changes other gifted are experiencing. “But I have nothing concrete to go on.”
“I can look into it, if you like.” As always Wiki seems thrilled at the prospect of extra-curricular research.
“You’re a superstar,” I tell him, and then pick up his menu again.
We place our orders. I tell them about Thuli’s new job, they’re horrified and sympathetic, and we move on to more frivolous topics. Inevitably, the conversation winds back to the Puppetmaster.
“Be careful,” says Wiki, sipping his soft drink. “I don’t like these meetings. I think he’s using them to manipulate you.”
“Hey, ye of little faith,” I protest indignantly. “Why do you think I can be manipulated? I’m trying to stop his evil plan.”
“The plan we haven’t figured out yet.”
“Well, it’s obvious he’s involved in Marshall’s disappearance.”
Lebz glances over her shoulder and leans closer. “What would he want from Marshall?”
I lower my voice. “Ntatemogolo says Marshall’s gifted.”
They exchange surprised glances.
“Remember that dream I told you about? The second one. I think that’s what it’s about. Gifted people are in danger because the Puppetmaster’s kidnapping them. Only one so far, but still.”
Wiki shakes his head. “He doesn’t need other people’s gifts. Maybe he wants you to go chasing clues in the Marshall case while he works on his real plan – the one involving you and Rakwena.”
Lebz’s eyes widen. “Wiki’s right. You can’t trust a word that comes out of that guy’s mouth. He knows you have the anklet on so he can’t trick you with his gifts, but he can tell you all the lies he wants.”
I don’t think the Puppetmaster was lying. He’s lied to me before. He lied to me the entire time he pretended to be my grandfather, but I’m convinced he was honest during the meeting and I’m even more convinced he’s behind Marshall’s disappearance.
There’s a dangerous sliver of anticipation stirring inside me. It’s hard to believe, but I’m looking forward to my next meeting with the Puppetmaster. That scares me. Am I exhibiting a healthy curiosity about my enemy, or am I falling into the trap he set long before I was born?
* * *
It appears Thuli is campaigning for the title of Most Annoying Person to supplement his medals in egotism and general wickedness. For the next week he harasses me at work every chance he gets, dropping in while I’m at the photocopier, following me around and offering to help me carry things. His presence makes my gift quiver. His energy is murky and weird, and I want to put as much distance between us as I can.
“Go away,” I snap for the billionth time as he reaches for the pile of copies I’ve just made. “Don’t you have a press conference to plan, or something?”
“I’ve done my assignments for the day,” he replies with a slow grin. “Marketing isn’t rocket science, you know. Isn’t it time for your tea break? Oh, look – it is!”
I glare at him, but he’s immune. He follows me across the main reception area. It’s almost empty – the cast and crew are on location today.
I drop the copies in the in tray on the director’s desk, then whirl around to face my stalker. “What will it take to get rid of you? A drop of blood? A kidney?”
Thuli laughs. I’m glad he finds me so amusing. “Have a cup of coffee with me. Just one cup, and you won’t see me for the rest of the day.”
“The rest of the month.”
“I’ll give you the next two working days.”
“The whole of next week.”
He grins. “Let’s do this: spend your tea break with me, and I’ll give you all of next week to yourself. But if you come looking for me, the deal is off.”
“Like that’ll ever happen,” I snort. “Fine. But we’re sitting here, not in your office.”
He nods, looking very pleased with himself. He’s becoming more and more like the Puppetmaster. I should find out whether they might be related. It would explain a lot. We stop at the kitchen to make two cups of coffee, then head back to the reception area and settle in a quiet corner.
I cradle my mug in my hands and blow lightly on the surface of the milky liquid. “OK, you have my attention. What do you want?”
“I told you. I want to be your friend.” He reaches out to place his mug on the small table, pushing aside some magazines, and giving me a good view of his ghastly tattoo.
My gift stirs. I get that odd taste of new metal in my mouth again, as though I’m sucking on a spoon that just came out of the packaging, and then my stomach lurches. The premonition hits so hard it makes my head ache.
The light in the room grows faint and murky, Thuli’s arm is blurred, and the snake tattoo starts to glow blue and wriggle. His voice wafts towards me, sluggish and distorted, then suddenly changes. His words come fast now, slippery, sliding out of his mouth like they’ve been coated in oil. There’s someone in the background with a pencil and paper. Before I can make sense of it I’m back in the reception area, breathing hard.
I stare at