Lebz and I lean closer.
“I looked up the different skills a sorcerer might have,” Wiki explains. “Most of the material referred to European sorcerers, Merlin-type people, but I did find some information on sangomas. There’s a lot written about these people possessing the power to control lesser beings, like thokolosi, and a bit about controlling humans. Then I found this.” He taps a paragraph near the middle of the page. “A legend about a sangoma who could steal power from the gifted. And you’ll never guess how he did it.”
“Bewitched objects,” I gasp.
“Bewitched jewellery,” says Wiki. “You see, it had to be something that was in constant contact with the victim’s skin. The moment it’s not touching the victim, the power of the object weakens. The sangoma in the story used cultural rings and bracelets, the kind that were never taken off.”
“Wow,” I breathe. “But the Puppetmaster isn’t interested in stealing powers. He can’t be – Ma-fourteen aren’t freaks.”
“You mean they aren’t gifted,” Wiki says with a raised eyebrow, as if I care about being politically correct. “Whatever he’s doing must increase his own power somehow. Why else would he do it? We have to find out exactly what the girls do for him before we can understand. Hopefully your grandfather’s analysis of the necklace will turn up something. Then we have to find out who helped the Puppetmaster find the girls.”
“Helped him?” Lebz frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it.” Wiki closes the file. “How is a foreign sangoma, new in town, going to meet a girl like Amantle? He must have met her through someone else.”
“I never even thought of that,” I admit.
The bell rings, and students start moving in waves towards the classrooms.
“Here.” Wiki hands me the file. “Take a look at it; maybe it’ll give you some ideas. Let’s talk again at break.”
I slip the file into my bag and we go our separate ways. I spot Thuli and his buddies across the schoolyard, but he doesn’t see me. I clutch my bag closer, wondering how long it will be before he makes his next move. I have enough to worry about without dealing with him, too.
“The number you have dialled is not available. Please try –”
I hang up in disgust. “He’s still not answering!”
“He’s probably working,” says Rakwena. “Give him some time.”
We’re sitting in my living room four days after finding Rose’s necklace, pretending to study as usual.
I scowl. “He’s had ages to work on the necklace – he must have found something by now. He just doesn’t want me to have any information I can use to find the Puppetmaster.”
“He only wants to protect you.” Rakwena takes a bite out of the piece of chicken in his hands.
“Blah blah.” I lean back in the sofa and toss my phone onto the coffee table. “Fine. Let him be difficult. I’ll figure this out without him. Wiki’s working on it – maybe he’ll find something.” I glance towards the door, sensing an agitated presence, and get up to open it.
Lebz is running down the street towards the house, waving a newspaper. “Connie! Oh my God, you have to see this.” She lifts the latch and runs into the yard, leaving the gate wide open behind her. I consider making her go back to close it, but she’s far too excited.
“What’s up, Lebz?” I step aside and she zooms into the house.
“Hi, Lizard.” She holds the paper about two centimetres from my face. “Look!”
I take a step back so I can actually see. “Lebz!” I groan, turning away before my integrity is compromised. “You can’t expect me to read the GC Chronicle. I have to preserve what brain cells I have left.”
She makes an exasperated sound in her throat. “Stop being such a snob and look!”
I swallow my pride. The headline screams: “DIRTY OLD MAN! MP caught with prepubescent lover”. Beneath the caption is a huge photo of the infamous black Jaguar belonging to a highly-respected member of parliament, alongside a pixelated insert of him in the backseat with a young girl. His hand appears to be sliding under her skin-tight top. I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “Ugh, I’m going to vomit.”
“Look at that girl,” Lebz persists. “See anything you recognise?”
I squint at the photo but it’s difficult to make anything out. The girl’s face has been blurred. Even the MP’s face is out of focus, and the only reason I recognise him is because of that potato-shaped head and the flashy car. “I’m lost,” I confess.
“Look at her necklace,” says Rakwena, who has materialised behind me.
The minute he says it I get a chill. Oh, no. I lean closer and study the necklace. I can’t quite tell if it’s gold or silver. There’s a pendant which is hard to see against the background of the girl’s top, but on closer inspection it looks… like a flower with five petals. “Oh, God, no,” I groan.
My stomach turns. I push the paper away, disgusted and angry. I never imagined that this would be what the Puppetmaster was up to. Is he some kind of paedophile pimp? I turn back to my friends, my body trembling.
“It’s worse than we thought,” says Lebz. “What are we going to do?”
“Kill him,” I growl.
“Hold on – there are still a lot of unanswered questions.” That’s Rakwena, the voice of reason as always.
“We don’t need answers,” I snap. “We need to find this bastard and destroy him!”
“Agreed,” says Lebz, nodding firmly. “This can’t go on. I mean, it’s one thing to use witchcraft to make people steal for you, but this is disgusting!”
“Of course it’s disgusting, but let’s not forget what a complex situation this is,” says Rakwena. “Everything we’ve seen so far tells us the Puppetmaster’s not some idiot looking for a quick buck. There’s more to this.”
I’m still angry, but I see the sense in his words. “You’re right. I don’t think the Puppetmaster is your average pimp. So what’s this picture about?”
“The question is, how did it get in the paper?” asks Rakwena.
“Maybe a reporter…” Lebz begins, but Rakwena shakes his head.
“He’s way too smart to get caught by reporters. Either the Puppetmaster wanted this photo in the paper, or someone’s keeping tabs on him without attracting attention.”
“I’m going with the first one,” I declare after a moment’s thought. “So now we have to figure out why he would want the world to see this picture. I can’t think of any good reason.”
“Neither can I,” Rakwena admits. “But it’s there. We’ll find it.” He gestures at my phone. “Try your grandfather again. If this doesn’t push the traditional doctors to take action, nothing will.”
Ntatemogolo is still not answering his phone. I take another look at the horrible tabloid article, now partially hidden under Lebz’s arm. We have to do something to stop the Puppetmaster. But what?
Lebz is still glued to the tabloid on Friday.
I grimace as I sit next to her on the bench. “It can’t be that interesting.”
“That’s what you think,” she mumbles, engrossed in a love triangle between a cop, a nurse and a truck driver.
I sense Rose’s thoughts before I see her come through the school gates. She’s agitated, and she’s looking for me. “Put that thing away – Rose is coming!”
“Hmm?” Lebz glances up, sees Rose and hurriedly stuffs the paper into her bag. “She looks upset. Do you think she’s seen the story already?”
“I hope not.” I plaster a bright smile on my face. “Hey, Rose!”
“Hi.” She sinks onto the bench with a weary sigh. “How are you guys?”
“Great,” we chirp, with forced cheer. “How are you?”
“Not good.” She turns her big, innocent eyes on me. “People have been acting very strangely around me. Staring, whispering. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Looks like I’m going to have to be the bearer of bad news. “Rose, do you read the GC Chronicle?”
She shakes her head. “My mother doesn’t let me read that stuff.”
“That’s good. But um… ah…”
“There’s a story in the paper,” says Lebz, coming to my rescue. “With a picture of a girl wearing a necklace that looks like the one you used to wear.”
Rose shakes her head. “Well, it’s not me. I would know if someone took a photo of me for a paper.”
“Not if you were under the Puppetmaster’s control,” I point out. “I know you don’t remember most of what happened, but is there any chance… I mean…” I clear my throat. “Is it possible that he made you girls… um… do things… with men?”
Rose’s expression changes from puzzled to mortified. “Oh! I wouldn’t… we wouldn’t. I’d remember that, wouldn’t I?” She shrinks into herself, clutching her bag to her chest. “The picture in the paper – was the girl in a car?”
I nod.
Rose’s face pales. “Do you have a copy?”
Lebz looks at me and I nod once. She reaches into her bag and pulls out the slightly crumpled paper. She hands it to Rose, who takes it as if she’s afraid it might blow up. She unrolls it slowly and gasps.
“It’s not –” I can’t even say it.
“No, not me,” says Rose weakly. “I’m sure Amantle’s telling people it’s me, but those clothes look like Refilwe’s. I’m just trying to think… where were the rest of us? In other cars, doing the same thing?” She drops the paper, looking exhausted. “This is never going to go away, even if I move. I’m still going to have to live with whatever I did.”
I put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
She picks up the paper again. “You know, this photo looks familiar. I think I’ve seen it before.”
“Where?” asks Lebz.
“I don’t know.” Rose thinks for a long moment, then gives up with a shake of her head. “I don’t remember.”
“Never mind.” I take the paper from her. “Forget about the Chronicle and the gossip. We’re going to get the bottom of this, one way or another. We’ll get the Puppetmaster, and when we do, he’s going to wish he’d never set foot in this country.”
Rose smiles. “I believe you. After everything you’ve done, I don’t think anything is impossible for you.”
I cringe inwardly. No pressure, right? “How’s the studying going? Lebz and I haven’t even started yet.”
Rose’s eyes widen in horror. “What?” For some reason she seems more disturbed by this than by anything else I’ve said. “No, that’s very bad! You guys have to take your exams seriously – you’re in Form Four!”
Lebz and I exchange glances and try not to giggle. Poor thing. Like Wiki, she’s under the impression that long weeks of hard slogging is what gets people through the exams, when the truth is nothing works as well as some serious last-minute cramming.
“Don’t worry – we’ll start soon,” I assure her. “Rakwena’s already helping me.”
She smiles shyly. “He’s so cool. You’re lucky to have such an amazing boyfriend.”
Lebz titters.
“Oh, no, he’s not my boyfriend,” I protest, feeling my face burn with embarrassment. “He’s my… um… friend. Like Lebz.”
Lebz mumbles under her breath.
“Oh.” Rose is disappointed by this news. She’s one of the many people who think Rakwena and I should be making out behind the toilets. “I just assumed…”
“Wow, five minutes before class.” I glance at my phone.
“Really?” Rose jumps up with a hurried goodbye and dashes off.
“I told you,” says Lebz. Even without my telepathy, she’s predictable. “The chemistry between you and Lizard is so obvious. Oh, here he comes. Is your heart racing?”
“Shut up,” I grumble as Rakwena approaches.
“Hello, ladies.” He’s in a good mood.
The bell clangs. I sigh.
“You OK?” he asks, leaning close to me.
“She’s fine,” says Lebz. “Now that you’re here.” She throws us a knowing look. “See you later.”
Arggh! If I didn’t love her so much I would throttle her.
“What was that?” asks Rakwena.
“Nothing. Got to go.” And I make my escape, trying not to notice the bemused smile on his face as he watches me leave.
Ntatemogolo pages me on Friday. I take it as a summons and after school Rakwena drops me off in Bontleng.
“You can stay,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “I have a few things to take care of. Call me and let me know what he says, OK?”
The house is quiet and the front door is ajar. I push it open. Ntatemogolo is sitting in the living room. He looks much better than the last time I saw him; more like his usual self. He smiles and waves me towards a chair.
“How are things, my girl?”
“Fine. How are you?”
He sighs. “I’ve been better. I am sure you want to know about the necklace. Well, you’re going to be disappointed. I have removed the spell, but I didn’t learn anything about the Puppetmaster beyond the fact that he is a very powerful, dangerous man. His magic is complex, with many layers.” He stops to light a cigarette. “I haven’t seen anything like him for a long time. Methodical, strategic. Very well-prepared.”
Sounds to me like he learned plenty. “You could tell all of this from the way he did his spell?”
Ntatemogolo nods. “I had to unwrap every layer. He put many spells on the necklace. One to bind it to the wearer, one to open her mind, one to enhance her strength, one to hide her activities from probing eyes…” He shakes his head. “Most people who perform mind-control magic are short-term thinkers. Not this one. He has a plan, and he’s weaving every piece of the fabric very carefully. Which brings me to the bad news.”
My heart sinks. “What is it, Ntatemogolo?”
He gives me a small, apologetic smile. “I tried. I tried reason, fear, but nothing worked. The traditional doctors are not going after the Puppetmaster, my girl. I’ve been trying to convince them for weeks, but yesterday they made their final decision.”
“No!” I lean forward in my chair. “No, they can’t just let him go!”
He lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “As far as they are concerned, he should be treated like any other criminal and reported to the police. You have to understand, Connie – they’re afraid. I don’t blame them.”
“I blame them,” I retort. “How can an entire community be afraid of one man?”
“You haven’t been listening,” Ntatemogolo chides me. “This is no ordinary man.”
I slump back in my chair. I knew this was coming. The traditional doctors seemed uninterested from the start. “So what happens now?”
Ntatemogolo is quiet for a long time, and when he finally speaks it’s with great reluctance. “Now, my girl, it’s up to us. No one else is going to do it, and as much as I hate it, you are so deep in this mess that nothing I do will get you out. All I can do is be here to help and protect you. So – what have you learned?”
I tell him everything that’s happened since the last time we spoke. He grimaces when I mention the photo in the GC Chronicle, but says nothing until I finish speaking.
“You’re right – that photo would not reach the papers if he wanted to prevent it,” he muses. “He must have some reason for wanting the world to see it. That’s the key. What is the name of the editor of that paper? He must know where the photo came from.”
“He’s not going to reveal his sources, though.”
Ntatemogolo smiles. “Not to you, perhaps, but I still have my tricks.” He clears his throat, and I sense a shift in the conversation. “Rakwena didn’t come in today. I saw him drop you off.”
“He had some things to do.” I can see where this is going, but there’s no way to avoid it.
“I’m glad he didn’t come. I wanted to ask you, Connie, what you’ve learned about the boy since the start of your friendship. Has he spoken about his family?”
“Yes.�
�� I’m feeling defensive; I hate it when people question my friendship with Rakwena. “I even went with him to see his mother. I know everything I need to know.”
Ntatemogolo looks at me with piercing eyes. “I am not so sure.”
“We’re still getting to know each other,” I protest.
“We’ll see,” says Ntatemogolo. “But be careful.”
“Ntatemogolo –”
“Don’t argue,” he says brusquely. “Do you know his gifts? One or two tricks, yes… and what else? You meet his poor sick mother and see his big empty house and you think he’s let you in.” He leans towards me. “You don’t know this boy. Not really.”
I want to argue, defend Rakwena, but I know that my grandfather is right. There are a lot of secrets I have yet to uncover. Rakwena may have told me some things, but what about the things he refuses to share? What about his father?
I get up to leave. “It’s going to be dark soon,” I mutter.
Ntatemogolo nods. He walks me to the door and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Be careful, Connie. All the time. With everyone.”
I nod, say goodbye and make my way to the combi stop. It’s only when I’m sitting in the combi, squashed between a large woman with a wailing baby and a tall man whose elbows keep digging into my ribs, that I realise something. Ntatemogolo mentioned Rakwena’s “poor, sick mother”. I didn’t say anything about her being sick, and the only other person who could have told him is Rakwena.
I remember when I first mentioned Rakwena to my grandfather. His reaction then suggested that the two of them knew each other, and now I’m certain they have a history. But how did they meet, and why is my grandfather so suspicious of Rakwena? I sigh wearily, shift away from my neighbour’s bony elbow and add “Rakwena’s secrets” to the rapidly growing list of things I have to figure out.
Chapter Eighteen
The weekend is so uneventful that I’m actually glad when the week rolls around. School may not be exciting, but it’s better than nothing. Wiki has now taken it upon himself to be the first student to arrive every morning, just so he has time to study in peace. Lebz and I find him on the bench when we arrive, waiting for the library to open.
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