Taniwha's Tear

by David Hair

  ‘Pania,’ he maintained. ‘It was—’

  Her face turned angry. ‘You take me seriously, kiddo! Don’t fob me off with fairy stories.’

  ‘I’m not, I’m serious.’ He glanced up. Riki and Damien were walking towards them, and they had only seconds alone remaining. ‘I’m totally serious. Whatever you think is real and unreal, unthink it. Everything is possible. Everything.’

  ‘My God, you are serious…’ Lena looked skyward, her hands trembling slightly. Suddenly she threw her arms about him and hugged him. He could feel her heart thumping against his chest. ‘This is too much. This is amazing. I am so glad I met you.’ She pulled away slightly. ‘You and me, Mat. We’re going to do so much together.’

  Riki coughed. They looked around guiltily to where Damien was whistling in mock oblivion, and Cassandra was goggling at them over the rim of her laptop.

  ‘Hey, bro,’ Riki said apologetically. ‘What say we go see if we can get one of the pubs to serve us?’

  Mat looked at Lena, who nodded vociferously. ‘Yeah, I wanna celebrate,’ she whispered. ‘I feel like partying.’

  They all separated to get changed, after setting a rendezvous in town. Mat and the boys dried off at Mat’s hotel room. His parents were out somewhere wine-tasting, according to the note they’d left. Mat put on his most mature-looking clothes: a collared shirt and some chinos.

  They went to the Irish bar on Reads Quay beside the bridge, which was full of tourists seeking refuge from the blazing sun. They only had to wait a couple of minutes before the two girls appeared, Lena swaying in a summer dress, and Cassandra in jeans and a tank-top. They huddled into a corner of the bar and tried to work out how to get served, as none of them was eighteen.

  ‘I should order the drinks, I’m tallest,’ said Damien.

  ‘Yeah, but your whiskers make you look fourteen,’ Riki retorted with a grin. ‘It should be me.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Lena put in. ‘I can pass as twenty.’

  Cassandra stood up. ‘Actually, I’ll do it.’ She blinked owlishly around the group. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘You?’ guffawed Damien.

  She fixed him with a cold stare, magnified several times by her glasses. ‘Yeah, why not?’ She pulled out a small plastic card and looked at it. ‘I’m twenty-two, apparently.’ She flashed some kind of ID that looked very official. ‘Got it through this Asian website I found. Ha!’

  Riki looked skeptical. ‘But you’re local, right? Won’t they know you’re younger than that?’

  Cassandra shrugged. ‘Of course they know me. I go to school with half the staff here. This is Gisborne, guys. The card is just so’s they have an excuse if the cops come in.’

  ‘Well, instead of all that hassle, why don’ I order, then?’ said a deep drawling voice. DJ Sassman appeared behind Lena, patting her arm and grinning about him. The big bodyguard type was at his shoulder, like a movable mountain. ‘Beers all round?’

  ‘Sure,’ beamed Lena, while the others nodded. Mat felt that disquiet inside again, seeing the man’s hand on Lena’s shoulder.

  ‘This here’s Dwayne,’ Sassman indicated the big man. ‘He used to be a marine, but don’ try an’ talk to him because he don’ have much to say. Dwayne, let’s be havin’ those beers.’

  Dwayne nodded slowly, his face flat and unfriendly. His buzzcut head was above every man in the bar as he shouldered his way through the crowd.

  Sassman turned to them all and gave a wide smile. Introductions were made, and notes compared on the festival details. But his eyes were always on Lena, which made Mat nervous. The beers arrived, and tasted divine after the sapping heat of the day. Soon they were all laughing, and anticipating the concert. Sassman even produced another backstage pass for Cassandra when he realised she would be the only one of the group left out in the main crowd.

  When the beers were finished, Sassman offered them drinks at his hotel. ‘I know y’all ain’t s’posed to be in here, y’know. So why don’ we return to the straight and narrow, and have the next round at my place?’

  Lena agreed for them, and they rose as one and fought their way out. As they left, a stocky figure caught Mat’s eye and raised a tankard to him in silent salute as he brushed past. With a quiver he recognised Captain Read, dressed in modern clothing.

  ‘Jus’ keepin’ an eye on things on this side, lad,’ the captain murmured. ‘An’ the beer’s better. Get yer’self home now, an’ there’s no harm done.’ Then he was past and lost amidst the press of bodies about the bar.

  They meandered down the river to one of the tall hotel blocks that lined the riverbanks, next door to the one where Mat and his parents were staying. Cassandra wouldn’t go up, saying—with a meaningful eye on Lena—that they were expected for dinner at home, but the blonde girl ignored her. Damien offered to walk Cassandra home, explaining he had to be home for dinner too. Cassandra agreed with visible reluctance. ‘They’ll end up in love,’ Riki sniggered to Mat as the two left.

  ‘It’s possible,’ Lena put in. ‘They’re both kinda odd.’

  Mat found her comment vaguely condescending. ‘I think they’re both cool,’ he responded defensively. He could see Riki felt the same way. Lena just shrugged, and let Sassman guide her to the lifts. She moved like a princess, in Mat’s eyes. He felt suddenly awkward and uneducated.

  Sassman took them up in a big lift to a penthouse suite overlooking the marina. Plush but elegant furnishings greeted them, and the tiny fridge was crammed with beer and mixers. They sank into the sofas, as Sassman put some music on, which sounded like it came from an ambient-techno compilation.

  Mat made sure he was sitting beside Lena, but the conversation mostly went past him. Sassman asked Lena about Auckland and where she lived, and places where Mat had never been to. He didn’t like the way she simpered for the musician, but felt helpless to butt in without appearing gauche. He looked at Riki for help, but his friend was looking vague, as if he had sunstroke or something. All the while the big ex-marine, Dwayne, sat in the corner, straight-backed, watching them with narrowed eyes.

  Sassman leant in and looked at Lena closely in a way that made Mat suddenly nervous. ‘I need to have a proper talk with you, little lady.’ He turned to Riki, lifted his chin, and said just one word: ‘Sleep.’

  Riki’s head fell back and his beer can fell from lifeless fingers. Mat gasped and half-rose. But Sassman turned on him, and raised his hand, his fingertips pointing at Mat’s forehead. ‘And you too. Sleep.’

  Sleep…the word resonated into his mind, echoing like the sound of a gong gently struck, tugging at him, pulling him down. He felt himself lurch dizzily, everything sway. Lena’s mouth opened, her face suddenly filled with consternation. Mat reached desperately inside himself, reached for his inner energies, and clung to them.

  ‘No,’ he gritted. ‘No.’

  His head cleared suddenly. Sassman’s eyes widened. ‘Sleep!’ he commanded again, but this time Mat was ready and slapped the word aside, his left hand grabbing Lena’s arm protectively. He felt his spark, his power, flare inside him in retaliation, and he lashed out with it, like a whip. Sassman flinched, and cried out in surprise and pain, staggering backwards. The giant Dwayne leapt to his feet, his hands bunching. But Sassman straightened, reeling slightly.

  ‘No, Dwayne! Stop! I’m fine…’ He blinked twice, slowly. ‘I think…’ Then he looked at Mat more closely. ‘Well, well! I thought it was just the girl. But you’re one of us too!’

  Lena looked at Mat with wide eyes. ‘What’s going on?’

  Mat thought he understood. ‘Mister Sassman spotted you at the tourist office, when you tried to influence that ticket lady. That’s why he’s being all friendly. He’s like us too.’ Mat’s mind leapt to an uncomfortable conclusion. ‘Are you with Kyle? Or Venn?’

  Sassman stiffened slightly, then laid open his hands, placatingly. ‘Neither, Mat. Neither. I won’t pretend I don’ know who you mean. I know, better than you, maybe. But I’m not with either of tho
se makutu.’ He imbued the Maori word with considerable malice. Then his eyes narrowed again. ‘Mat…? Say, is your last name Douglas?’

  Mat stared at him, trying to discern the man’s nature. But he didn’t know how to read the man at all. He nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

  ‘The kid that brought Puarata down? Well, son of a gun! It’s a privilege to meet you, Mat Douglas. A massive privilege.’ Sassman beamed, seizing Mat’s hand in both of his and shaking it hard. ‘Not everyone with the sort of gifts that we’ve got worked for Puarata, Mat. Lots hid from him, or even worked against him. We’re all glad he’s dead.’ He looked at Dwayne, who still seemed poised for violent action. ‘Relax, man. These are good kids. They’re with us.’

  ‘Who is “us”?’ Mat demanded. He wanted to get Lena alone, and explain this without Sassman present.

  Lena was looking from one to the other with a mystified face. ‘What’s he talking about, Mat? And what are you talking about? Who’s “Puarata”?’

  ‘We should go,’ Mat told her, his eyes still on Sassman. ‘We don’t know enough about him.’

  Lena stamped her foot. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I can tell you,’ Sassman replied evenly. ‘Sit down, sit down. Have another drink. We’re all friends here.’

  Mat’s cellphone rang. He pulled it out, cursing softly. It was his father. ‘Uh, hi, Dad.’

  ‘Where are you? Where’ve you been all day?’

  ‘Um, I’m just—’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Get back here pronto, we’re going out to dinner in ten minutes.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Ten minutes, son!’

  ‘Uh, okay.’ The phone went dead. Damn!

  He looked at Sassman and Lena. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  Sassman smiled. ‘Sure. No problem.’ He offered a hand. ‘We’re on the same side, Mat.’ Mat reluctantly took it. ‘I’m so proud to meet the slayer of Puarata. It’s a privilege, my man!’

  ‘It was Wiri that killed him,’ he mumbled in reply. He shook Riki awake. ‘Come on, man, we gotta go.’

  Riki woke groggily, as if surfacing from far below the surface of a lake. ‘Uh, uh, what happened? Did I…? What…?’

  ‘You just fell asleep, man. Come on, it’s time to go.’ He looked at Lena. ‘Let’s go.’

  Lena looked at him, and then back at Sassman. ‘I’m in no hurry. And I have a lot of questions.’ She looked at Sassman. ‘A whole lot of questions.’ Her eyes were painfully needy.

  Mat gripped her arm. ‘We don’t know anything about him,’ he muttered in her ear. ‘You shouldn’t be alone with him.’

  Lena lifted her chin haughtily. ‘I can make up my own mind about that,’ she told him, pulling herself from his grip. She walked towards the fridge, swaying her hips. ‘I need another drink.’ She turned back and waved her fingers at Mat. ‘See you at the concert tomorrow. Ciao for now.’

  Sassman looked at Mat, and slowly shrugged his shoulders.

  Mat’s parents had spent the day picnicking at Tolaga Bay, an hour’s drive up the coast. Mat barely listened to their descriptions. All he could think of was the way Sassman had kept touching Lena’s arm whenever he spoke to her. His mum talked about some old cemetery near the beach, and a pier that went way out into the bay, but all he could visualise was the American’s hands on Lena’s skin.

  His parents were making some show of togetherness, holding hands, talking a lot, but he could tell it wasn’t going all that well. Every time Dad’s phone rang, Mum tensed up, and she threatened to throw it into the sea at one point, only half-joking.

  ‘I’m going to Rhythm and Vines tomorrow,’ he announced during a pause in the conversation.

  Tama’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I heard it had sold out!’

  ‘This American guy gave us some tickets.’

  ‘Gave you? How much did you pay?’

  ‘No really, he gave us them. He’s a musician, one of the acts. I guess he took pity on us.’

  ‘Apparently the whole town is full of musicians,’ Tama announced, gazing about the restaurant as if expecting his eyes to alight on someone famous. ‘Not that I’d recognise any of the modern acts, I guess,’ he sighed reflectively. ‘They’re probably all at private locations.’

  ‘Who’s “us”, Mat?’ Colleen asked, her eyes lighting up a little.

  ‘Uh, Riki, and his mate, Damien…and these girls.’

  Colleen smirked. ‘Girls? Really?’ She laughed in a way Mat found suddenly irritating. ‘Tell us about the girls, Matty.’

  Oh, for goodness’ sake…‘Mum…’ he complained. ‘They’re just these girls we met.’ He described the girls as briefly and diffidently as he could. But he couldn’t keep the note of longing from his voice when he mentioned Lena, and before he knew it, Mum was using words like ‘girlfriend’ and ‘romance’. He’d never felt so annoyed by his parents, not even when they were breaking up.

  ‘For heaven’s sake,’ he snapped finally, ‘just grow up!’

  He didn’t understand why his parents roared with laughter. At least they were laughing together though, even if it was at him.

  9

  Rhythm and Vines

  The next day passed like a waking dream. It was the first day of Rhythm and Vines, and they had backstage passes. Few of the band names were familiar to Mat, who only owned a couple of CDs and barely played them, but Riki and Lena in particular were starry-eyed. They arrived, brandished their passes, and were herded into a fenced-off zone behind screens where kohl-eyed, lank-haired guitarists lounged, sipping cocktails with bronzed dream-queens. Lena kept putting her hand to her mouth and saying ‘Omigod, that’s so-and-so’, but the names meant nothing to Mat, who only had eyes for her.

  The festival had begun several years ago as a semiprivate party among some university friends, which had ended up with 500 or so people bopping in a field to Kiwi band The Black Seeds, but half the crowd had jumped the fence and not paid. The three friends lost a lot of money, but having had a great time, and realising that there was money to be made if it was done properly, they persisted, and with a series of further concerts they had more than recouped their losses. The same three guys still ran it, but now they had full-time employees and brought in overseas events people. A one-night party had become a three-day festival that attracted headline acts from all over the world.

  DJ Sassman hovered protectively, but Mat decided after a while that nothing had ‘happened’ between Sassman and Lena when he left last night, and was prepared to forgive him. The man-mountain Dwayne was still no more approachable, but at least he kept to himself. They were able to come and go easily among the crowds in the main area, enjoying street performers, from fire-eaters and whip-crackers to a man with a little brown monkey that juggled, and of course there was always someone on stage. Techno DJs like Sassman mixed with reggae, rock, folk and rap acts, all under a baking sun. Sprinklers bathed the crowds that swayed and bumped before the main stage. There were police present, their pale-blue shirts plastered in sweat, but the crowd was in a good mood.

  The press of people around the stage was like a huge creature, Mat thought, as he tried his best to stay on his feet in the heaving, sweating crowd. Lena was pressed against him on one side and Riki on the other; they were drenched in sprinkler water and perspiration and had stupid grins plastered all over their faces. Whenever they wanted, they could slip backstage and act like stars, getting free drinks and food and marvelling at their own good fortune. At some point towards mid-afternoon they rendezvoused in the backstage area, panting like fish out of water, draining chilled water-bottles frantically.

  ‘Come on, let’s go check out that dance outfit from Denmark,’ Damien urged Cassandra.

  The skinny girl looked Damien over, and pulled her mouth to one side. ‘Nah. Seen one techno-rave Scandinavian and you’ve seen them all.’

  Damien rolled his eyes. ‘Come on! It’ll be fun. It won’t matter that you can’t dance for shit. I can’t either.’

  Riki t
hrew Mat a despairing look and buried his head in his hands.

  Cassandra threw Damien a dangerous look. ‘I know you can’t dance, Dame. I’ve seen the evidence.’ She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘So, what you’re really saying is this: I’m a kook who can’t get a date, and you’re a dweeb and can’t get one either, so we should get together?’

  Damien tried to work that one through. ‘Umm…yeah?’

  Cassandra snorted. ‘Sorry, I have a healthy desire for lifesavers and he-men, just like “normal” girls. Go molest yourself in the toilets, geek-boy.’ She stalked away.

  Damien looked after her with a puzzled expression. ‘What did I say?’

  Riki looked at Mat and collapsed laughing. Eventually he picked himself up, clapped Damien on the shoulder, and lurched away. ‘You’re priceless, man.’

  ‘I don’t get it with girls,’ Damien complained to Mat. ‘I mean, what do they really want?’

  ‘Beats me,’ said Mat, and he leant in and kissed Lena, who hadn’t been following the discussion, on the cheek. She looked up at him and smiled. Damien rolled his eyes, and sloped off after Riki.

  Sometime after sundown, with the big international acts ready to take to the stage, Sassman pulled Mat aside. Bigger and bigger entourages of musicians and hangers-on had been pouring into the backstage area, making louder and louder demands and complaining about everything they found. Even the starstruck teens were having their initial reactions soured by the prima donnas swanning about, looking down their noses at them.

  They were all leaving to mingle with the main crowd when Sassman grabbed Mat’s shoulder. ‘Come with me, Mat. Somethin’ you need to see. You too, Lena.’ His face was uncharacteristically serious. He led them to a vantage point to the left of the main stage, and pointed out across the crowd to the far side, where a small knot of people had just entered. ‘It pays to get a look at your enemies,’ he growled softly.

  Mat’s eyes narrowed at a flash of blonde hair, sixty metres across the press of bodies, and he felt his skin go moist. Donna Kyle was smoking a cigarette, using some kind of antique cigarette-holder, as if she were an old black-and-white movies starlet. She was clad in a clinging black one-piece that finished mid-thigh, and she was hung with gold bangles and chains. The wound on her face rather ruined the effect of glamour. She reminded Mat of the gangster molls in American mafia films.