The Lost Tohunga

by David Hair

  The glass panel in the front door shattered as a fist punched a hole. There was no option: he spun, pushing against the wall, reaching inside himself. His mother stared as a narrow stream of fire poured from his fingers and burst about a pale arm that was reaching through the hole in the glass. Something female shrieked and the arm snatched back, charred.

  ‘Mum — call the cops!’ He saw her shake herself, and begin to dial again. Then he spun as wiry shapes poured through from the lounge, where a series of strange sounds suddenly broke out, like a giant aerosol discharging, and tipua shrieked angrily. Cassandra! Where was she? He met them head on, swung overhand and felt a satisfying crunch on the skull of a goblin. Another grabbed at his weapon, and he swatted the hand, shattering the fingers against the wall. He blocked another blow, and let fire pour along the blade of the taiaha and into the largest goblin so far, a gruesome creature with a scarred face; it staggered away clutching its face. He felt a wave of dizziness from the exertion of magic. That amount of fire was far beyond what he had practised. Another goblin pushed through and swung. Its blow was fortunately obvious, and Mat blocked and jabbed, swiping it across the temple. It fell, fading into thin air as it did so. The remainder of the goblins scuttled backwards, eyeing him malevolently.

  His mother shouted down the phone. ‘WE’RE BEING ATTACKED! GET SOMEONE HERE!!!’ Then she dropped the phone as a thin blackened arm reached through the broken door again, and twisted the handle. Mat felt a wave of dizziness as he tried to summon more flame, feeling the sudden backlash of the energy he had already expended. He couldn’t do too much more of that.

  ‘Cassandra?’ he called despairingly. No reply came. His throat tightened.

  The door opened, and a different type of creature stepped into the light. It was female, clad only in a thin, dirty shift. Her face was half-lost in the thick red hair that fell to her waist. His mother edged back down the wall. ‘Matty,’ she gasped, ‘Matty, watch out.’

  ‘Yes, watch out, Matty,’ smirked the newcomer, pulling the hair from her face, like opening a curtain. Her face was thin and pointed, like an albino rat. ‘I’ve come to get you.’ Her teeth were fanged like a snake.

  He stepped between her and his mother, and set his jaw. ‘Patupaiarehe: get out before I burn you up!’

  ‘Oooo, big scary boy,’ the patupaiarehe giggled. ‘My mistress, Donna Kyle, sends her final respects. She says I can eat you, and your mother, too.’

  He shouted defiantly, and slammed the blade of the taiaha at her face. Her hand blurred and caught the weapon, while her other hand smacked across his face, throwing him against the wall. He staggered, wrenched the taiaha from her grip, and backed away. Beside him, Mum clutched the wall, staring in mute horror. Behind him, more tipua growled. They were trapped, and doomed unless he did something fast. He threw everything into another burst of fire, but the patupaiarehe somehow half-faded, as if moving partially to Aotearoa, and it washed through her harmlessly. He reeled, almost utterly spent.

  ‘Is that all you’ve got, boy?’ she taunted, stalking forward.

  Her name is Shonagh, Ngatoro murmured into his mind. Bind her!

  I don’t know how! But he tried. ‘Shonagh, stop!’ he shouted, hefting his weapon again.

  For just an instant, she froze, her eyes suddenly afraid. He slammed the tongue of the taiaha at her, and it punched into her chest. He felt more than heard her shriek as the wood pierced flesh, and then the creature flew backwards, smashing against the inside of the door. Got you!

  Something exploded behind his left shoulder, an arc of pain as an edged patu cut through cloth and flesh. He heard himself cry out, and then his mother shattered a vase over the skull of the tipua who had hit him. It faded as it fell, glassy-eyed. Mum looked around for another weapon. He snatched the patu from the grasp of the fading goblin, and put it in her hand, then turned back to the patupaiarehe at the front door. Shonagh had her back to the door, and a look of shock on her face. Her hand was pressed to a wound below her left breast, thin red fluid on her hands and chest.

  ‘You evil little boy,’ she hissed. ‘Look what you’ve done!’

  He reversed the taiaha again, and readied himself. ‘Get out, Shonagh! Get out or I’ll do it again. Only I’ll split your heart next time.’ He advanced slowly down the hallway, praying the thing would run, because his last burst of fire had just about done for him.

  She hissed and raised her talons.

  She’s going to come straight through me …

  Sirens blared in the distance, filling him with sudden hope. ‘Get out, Shonagh!’

  Almost involuntarily, she half-turned away. He swung at her skull, an all-or-nothing blow that would have had Jones cursing him, because if he missed he would be off balance and dead meat. But before the weapon struck, there was a sucking sensation. Shonagh exploded backwards through the door, howling dismally as she went, a banshee wail that echoed in the suddenly empty hallway. He overbalanced and fell against the wall, barely keeping his footing.

  He turned tiredly, but the goblins were fading, slipping back into Aotearoa, hissing disappointedly. He stared dazedly into the silence, and then abruptly staggered into the lounge. ‘Cass! Cass?’

  Every window was broken, the curtains half-torn and flapping in the breeze. The corner suite was covered in white foam. Everything else was utterly still. ‘Cass!’

  A red-topped head poked up from behind the corner armchair. ‘’S okay. I’m here.’

  He ran to her, staring at four parallel slashes on her right arm. ‘What happened?’

  She shrugged, although her face was white. ‘When they came through I grabbed the fire extinguisher, and I kept squirting any that came near me. I had to bash a couple with the canister, too. Then they ran away.’ She panted, and forced a grin. ‘Are you and Colleen okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He threw his arms round her bony frame and squeezed. ‘I thought when I couldn’t hear you that …’ He swallowed, and released her. She seemed suddenly fragile and precious.

  Mum came in, looking pale and furious. ‘Little buggers,’ she kept muttering, her hands shaking as she sat down heavily, all the vigour going out of her at once. ‘That was my best vase,’ she whimpered, as if that were the worst thing that had happened.

  She’s in shock. Mat wrapped his arms round her.

  By the time the police burst in, the tipua were long gone. The thin blood of the patupaiarehe woman had soaked in like a tea stain, and the blood of the goblins had faded to smears of ash. The violence done to the house remained, but the attackers were gone without trace. The police milled about, with looks of bafflement, staring at the burn marks on the inside of the door in confusion. Neighbours had heard violence, seen shapes moving. ‘Was it Evan Tomoana?’ a policewoman asked.

  Mat shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. ‘Maybe.’ He glanced anxiously at his mother.

  For a moment he thought she would tell the truth. She seemed to waver, then met his eyes and swallowed, before turning back to the cops. ‘It was a gang of kids, with hoods and balaclavas,’ she told the policewoman. ‘We’ll go to my friend Sue’s place. Can someone guard the house, please?’ Security guards were called while they packed bags. Mum talked to Sue on the phone, and yes, it was okay for them to stay.

  Mum pulled him and Cassandra aside. She was visibly struggling to keep herself calm when all her nightmares were coming true. ‘Mat, what’s happening?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mum. I have to warn Jones, and see what he says.’

  ‘I’ll come too!’ Cassandra said determinedly.

  Mat bit his lip. ‘No — please! Could you stay with Mum? Please?’

  Cassandra looked at him hard. ‘The danger’s passed here. You don’t know what you’re going into.’

  He leant close and whispered. ‘Mum needs someone with her, Cass. Please?’

  The girl stiffened. ‘Okay,’ she relented. ‘Just this once.’

  Mum looked like a frightened girl, but she didn’t argue over it. ‘Then you mus
t go,’ she said, in a sombre voice. Her eyes were moist. ‘You were very brave, Mat. I’m proud of you. But if this is something that Welsh bastard has brought on us, I’ll kill him myself.’

  Mat shook his head, aching to be gone. ‘Jones is one of the good guys, Mum. If he hadn’t shown me what he has, I’d never have been able to protect us.’

  Colleen nodded reluctantly. ‘If he’d not, maybe they’d have left us alone. I’m so scared I’ll lose you. Ever since that dreadful man and that Kyle woman came. Is she behind this, Matty?’

  He remembered what the patupaiarehe woman had said. ‘It looks like it,’ he breathed. ‘Jones and Hine might be in trouble. I’ve got to go and see them.’

  Colleen’s eyes narrowed. ‘This Hine is mixed up in this, too?’

  ‘Jones is looking after her, to protect her from her ex. Mum, I’ve got to go!’

  She pulled him into a hug, and then pushed him away. ‘Then go, Matty. Go as fast as you can, and then come home faster, you hear? Come home!’

  ‘I promise, I promise,’ he said. He snatched up his taiaha, walked through the debris to the door, and out into the shadows. The policemen stared at him curiously, and one started towards him, but he turned a corner, and let himself fade into Aotearoa before he could be stopped. Then he ran.

  The kitchen window shattered, smashed by the butt of a gun. Hine flattened herself against the cupboards as glass sprayed the room. Then the gun was reversed, while massive blows shook both back and front doors. Godfrey snarled and ran to the front door, while Jones cursed and raised his flintlock. Before he could fire, the gunman at the window vanished.

  The lock shattered and the back door swung open. A Roadhawks man in a leather jacket whirled into the room, pulling the trigger of the gun cradled in his hands, even as Jones corrected his aim. The mobster’s gun clicked impotently.

  ‘Wrong toy, boyo,’ snarled Jones. An explosion boomed in Hine’s ear as Jones’s pistol spouted fire. Blood erupted from the biker’s chest, the impact throwing him backwards out the door. A second man came through, bellowing in rage as his gun also failed. Jones placed his smoking pistol on the table, his hand waving, and drew the second pistol. The second man tried to turn, but Jones’s shot shattered the side of his skull. He pitched sideways and fell to the floor.

  Another gun roared, but this one was in the hallway. There was a canine howl, and a thump. Hine realized what it was instantly, and gasped. She stepped towards the door, her hand raised, a kitchen knife in it. Jones grabbed her. ‘No! It’s too late. Stay with me!’

  He stepped to the back door, his hands a blur as he gestured and a cloud of fine dust and ash flew from the barrel, then gunpowder streamed into the weapon, followed by a lead ball. She looked back at the table and saw that the first gun was also loading itself. Jones waved a hand and the door to the hallway flew shut and locked. The first pistol finished loading itself and flew into his grasp. He gave it to her.

  A voice called from behind the hallway door. ‘Hine! Where are you, bitch?’ Her legs nearly gave way. Evan!

  Jones blew out the kitchen lamp, sidled to the back door, and aimed the reloaded second pistol towards Evan’s voice. His sword was in his right hand. ‘Come through that door and you’re dead, Parukau.’

  An evil laugh sounded from the hallway. ‘Dead like this mutt, Aethlyn?’

  A tiny sob bubbled from Hine’s mouth, and she clenched the pistol and knife tight. They felt alien, but by God she would use them!

  ‘Dead like your friends out the back here, Parukau,’ said Jones, gesturing Hine to his side.

  ‘I have plenty more, old man. And you know me: I can’t die at all. So why don’t you just throw down your arms and surrender. I might even let you live. You can watch me take Hine back.’

  She raised the pistol, pointing it at the hallway door. ‘Not yet, lass,’ murmured Jones. He peered out the open back door. ‘There’s more of them out here, and others in the real world,’ he told her, biting his lip. ‘But I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.’ He winked at her. ‘We’re not done yet.’

  The handle of the hallway door turned. Jones nodded urgently, and she backed towards him. ‘At my word, follow me out, lass. Don’t shoot until you can’t miss. You’ll only get one shot, so make it count.’

  He murmured something that made all the lights dim and the air fill with misty smoke, then pulled her out onto the back porch, over the two bodies that lay there. Both were Roadhawks, young men she half-recognized from around town. More stupid than evil. A strange haziness filled the air. She expected a burst of gunfire, but none came.

  She heard the kitchen door rattle, and then there was a storm of shouting, and dark shapes erupted from both sides. She whirled in time to see Jones empty his pistol at a man whose face exploded like a rotten pumpkin. Then the old man’s sword flashed out in a straight-arm thrust. The man he had stabbed stared in disbelief at the thin metal blade in his chest, then slid sideways to the earth. All about them, the trees seemed to come to life, wrenching and tearing at the intruders. Men shouted, scattering.

  A knife flew at Jones’s back, but veered and hit the wall instead. Brutal loomed out of the shadows, but Jones’s sword flashed around and slashed him across the belly, making the big man roar like a wounded boar. Jones flicked his hand, and an invisible force hurled Brutal back, his mouth widening in shock. Then Ronnie burst through the back door, and Hine raised her gun. His big face widened in recognition and terror as her finger tightened on the trigger.

  Time froze. She thought of Ko and her babies, and found she was paralysed. Ronnie blundered towards her, and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side. He began to cry. ‘Hine, Hine, Hine …’ She twisted in his grasp helplessly, as Jones whirled and took aim.

  ‘No!’ she shrieked. Not Ronnie! Jones looked at her with furious eyes. ‘Run!’ But he turned back. Evan stepped onto the porch, with a pistol like Jones’s in his hand. He raised it, and fired.

  The ball punched a hole in Jones’s chest, and his body jolted backwards. Fires that had begun to materialize in his hand flickered, like a spent Roman Candle, and the sword slid from his suddenly frail grip. He fell to his knees, holding the wound, muttering a stream of words. Brutal loomed over him, bloodied and enraged, and drew back his right boot. Hine screamed as Ronnie gripped her tighter. She closed her eyes to be blind, praying not to hear the death blow …

  … that never came.

  She heard Brutal curse in disbelief, and opened her eyes again. Jones was gone. Evan strode over, cursing. He raised a hand, and seemed to flicker, vanishing momentarily then reappearing, a look of bafflement on his face. ‘Where’s he gone? Where’s the old bastard gone?’

  Ronnie prised the pistol and knife from her hands. She looked up at his big stupid face, as a sense of hopelessness engulfed her. I did nothing … I did nothing and let him grab me … and got Jones killed … maybe. She hung her head, staring at the patch of earth where the old man had fallen, praying.

  Ronnie took her back into the kitchen. Evan was shouting about grabbing something, and clouds of men were throwing all Jones’s spare muskets and pistols into a heap on the porch. She saw Evan gesture and all the weapons vanished. She could hear the monster in his voice. Couldn’t they all hear it? The mocking glee as he pretended concern at Brutal’s wound. The scorn as he congratulated Ronnie on recovering her unharmed. Outside there were angry voices, and she heard Evan go to the door, cocking two pistols.

  Someone shouted from outside on the back lawn. ‘Hey, Tomoana. Our bloody guns didn’t work! An’ the boys in the trees … half o’ them are dead!’

  ‘So, Arama? What of it? They’re your guns, not mine,’ said Evan, coolly. He raised his voice. ‘Hurry that packing, Deano!’

  The voice of this Arama rasped. ‘But you knew! You brought them old guns an’ they work! You bloody knew!’

  ‘Be prepared, Arama. Be prepared. Scout’s motto, eh? Guess you weren’t never a boy scout.’

  Arama pointed
out into the night. ‘The hell with you! What about Joe and Henare? And Si and his cousins? You knew! You knew them guns weren’t goin’ t’work! An’ where are we anyway?’

  Evan sniggered. ‘In the backwoods, that’s all. Thought you boys would be tougher than this. You better be more use in Rotorua, eh?’

  ‘We ain’t goin’ to Rotorua! Not after this! I’m tellin’ Dad about this!’

  Rotorua! Hine fell to her knees on the kitchen floor. Let Ronnie think she was fainting. And she reached out, to the pool of blood welling about the dead man in the doorway … her fingers dipped in the cooling fluids, and she scrawled blind, onto the side of the cupboard: R – O – T – O …

  Strong hands pulled her away, but there was no cry of discovery. Her message was overlooked. Ronnie wrapped about her, crooning like a lost baby. The argument continued outside, and she could feel it simmering towards blows. Come on — fight each other, she willed them silently. Kill each other!

  Suddenly there was a choked cry and Evan swore. Ronnie looked up, and called out in a scared voice, ‘Wass happenin’?’

  Someone cried out in shock, and then the night was filled with howls, like a pack of hunting hounds descending on their prey. She heard Evan shouting, cries cut off. She was pulled to her feet as the back door slammed shut behind Evan, his face livid. Something smote the door behind him, and a big brown hand reached in the kitchen window. She peered out, and saw a biker, his eyes bulging with fright. Then a small, pale, hairless face appeared behind him, and a thin club split his skull.

  ‘Tipua!’ Evan bellowed. ‘We’ve been tailed! It’s a trap!’ He lunged for Hine and pulled her to him. ‘Ronnie, Brutal — grab my arms!’

  ‘Wha—?’

  ‘Do it!!!’

  A man wrenched open the back door, pale hands snagging him. Hine recognized Arama Heke, a Roadhawks man, son of the gang boss. His face was bloodied and frightened. ‘Tomoana, get us out of this!’