The Bone Tiki (16 page)

Spriggs had climbed down unsteadily, waved at the young man and helloed, then reached in and helped Kelly out of the carriage.

Spriggs turned to the young man and shook his hand. ‘Hello Forbes, nice to see you again. Are you well?’

‘I’m well, Spriggs. Very well. Though it has turned a bit chilly. Your young friend here was complaining that it was cool a moment ago.’

‘Forbes, this is my niece, Miss Kellyanne Gaffin. Eldest daughter of Amelia’s eldest sister’s sister, you know. Kellyanne, this is Simon Forbes, barrister and solicitor, educated at Oxford. Fine fellow.’

‘Charmed, Miss Gaffin. Delighted to make your acquaintance.’

Mat looked at Forbes curiously. Though he might be ‘charmed’, he looked as pale and ill as Mat felt. He was white, and little beads of perspiration were forming on his upper lip; his hand was damp and clammy when they were introduced. The servant who came to help with the baggage also looked frightened, and Mat began to look around him.

The house was large, with white timber and a tiled roof. All the curtains were drawn, though one was stirring faintly in the nearby left wing. Behind him the gardens were damp and overgrown, and looking back at the road, he noticed a pair of soldiers standing opposite, smoking nonchalantly, but leaning on muskets.

He had a sudden feeling they shouldn’t go into the
house. He recognised the impulse immediately—it was his instinct—his warning bell—the same one that had gone off when his father had spoken with Puarata, and when the tiki had lain before him, and he’d pocketed it. But it had failed him in Taupo…he wavered in an agony of indecision, turning back to the others. Manu was smiling at the porter, trying to get him to take an extra suitcase. Kelly was holding onto Spriggs’ arm as Forbes led them to the door. Their voices sounded oddly close yet distant and distorted, like a bad recording. He looked up at Fitzy, who was still on the carriage, sniffing the air and looking around warily. He realised the turehu felt it too, this sense of peril. The horses shifted uncomfortably and all turned to look first at him, and then behind him. He saw curtains rustle in a window where the windows weren’t open, as if someone had parted them to peek, then dropped them again.

It’s a trap! It’s all a trap
!

He opened his mouth to speak when a thick arm wrapped around his shoulders from behind and he was wrenched off his feet. The arm was black-sleeved, and a stench of tobacco blew over him as a scratchy voice spoke in his ear. ‘Shut it boy. Move and you’re for it.’ A cold metal circle pressed against the back of his neck.

Mat stopped struggling immediately, tried to go limp, and send his hand creeping into his shirt, seeking the tiki. As if in a slow-motion dream he saw the doors of the house fly open and black uniforms flooded out, armed constabulary led by a red-bearded officer with a scowling face.

Fitzy barked and tried to leap in front of the soldiers,
between them and Kelly. A musket swung and caught him about the head with a sickening crack, and he was tossed aside, going limp as he rolled into a crumpled heap in the gravel. Kelly opened her mouth and turned to see Mat caught. She turned to Manu, her eyes panicked. Manu was reaching for his pistol, shouting something at Mat.

‘Get Wiri!’ But the servant beside him swung the suitcase in a blurring circle and smashed it into Manu’s chest, sending him flying backwards. Two soldiers leapt onto him as he hit the ground, fists bunched and swinging. Kelly screamed and spun wildly, looking at Mat helplessly.

Spriggs stood immobile, his normally cheery face gone slack, his eyes on his friend Forbes.

‘I’m sorry, old chap,’ said Forbes, looking at his feet. ‘They knew you were coming. There was nothing I could do.’

A soldier rammed his musket butt into Spriggs’ belly and the captain collapsed choking, his boots thrashing in the gravel. Kelly took a step toward him when another soldier grabbed her shoulder. She spun and raked her fingers over his face, shrieking. Two more grabbed her, and one flung a chokehold over her neck while putting his hand over her mouth. She thrashed at them with legs and arms, and Mat heard the dress rip as she was borne to the ground.

A woman slid out of the door, clad in black, colonial style. She wore a dark bonnet, over a hard lean pale face, that was disfigured with purple bruises. A thin scab ran from left to right cheek, across the bridge of her nose, which was crooked. Both of her eyes were swollen in purple and yellow bruising. She looked like a walking corpse.

It was Donna Kyle.

Mat snatched at the tiki.

‘To—’

Something heavy smashed into the side of his head, and everything exploded in light and pain. He tried to hold the thought of Wiri, almost saw his face, shouting to him, but Wiri’s mouth turned into a black hole that swallowed him down into darkness.

F
itzy lay motionless on his side. Kelly was screaming as the guardsmen tore her clothes and skin. Manu lay bloodied and broken. Spriggs was choking on the ground and Donna was laughing, her mouth full of yellowed teeth that grew more and more pointed with every piercing gale of malicious joy…

Mat woke from his dream gasping, spluttering cold wet water, and for an instant thought he was drowning, that Donna had cast him into the sea. But then his head cracked against a hard wooden floor, and a fresh wave of pain surged through him, almost causing him to black out again. The blow that had knocked him out had been to the side of his head, just in front of his right ear. It felt swollen and raw. He shifted slightly, and felt ropes tighten around his wrists and ankles. Light tried to prise open his eyes,
and someone was hissing at him. ‘Wake up! Wake up, you little pig!’

He reluctantly opened his eyes, and blinked them into focus.

Donna’s face pressed into his. She looked ghastly, her face a mass of swelling and bruising, cut in half by the slash Mat had made with Wiri’s patu in Taupo. Her nose had obviously been broken and the green moko on her chin was scratched and dripping blood, as if she’d been tearing at it. Her eyes were blazing. ‘Look what you’ve done to me, you little maggot! Look at me!’

He stared up at her in terror.

‘You have caused us so much trouble, you and that girl, so much trouble. And you are going to
pay.
Oh yes, you are
really
going to pay…You’re going to wish I’d killed you. You see my face? I’m going to make you pay a hundred times over for every mark. I’m going to give you pain and
ugliness
for the rest of your short miserable life.’

Mat tried to turn his face away, his stomach boiling with acid, his mouth filling with a wave of bile that was surging up his throat. He was in a tiny wooden storeroom, empty of anything except him, with only one door. Where was everyone else? He remembered what he’d seen before the blow on the head, and felt a clammy fist tighten in his belly. What if they were all dead?

Donna’s cold hand clamped on his chin and pulled his face back. ‘Don’t you look away. You listen to me!’ Her fists grabbed his jacket and pulled him to his feet. She was horribly strong. Her eyes were bloodshot and her breath
reeked of coffee and cigarettes. ‘Help me or the girl dies. Understand? She dies in agony.’ She pulled him to her. ‘I’ll pour kerosene onto her face then light it, unless you help me. Do you understand? I’ll burn her face off.’ She shook him like a doll. ‘So will you help me or do I burn her?’

Mat nodded frantically, with no idea how he could help, but desperate to protect Kelly.

Donna dropped him to the floor, slamming his head into the wooden boards and sending a new blackness flickering over him. She panted, looking sick and feverish, and he had a sudden intuition.
She’s terrified of something
…‘I’ll send someone to clean you up, and then you will come to my study. If you don’t cooperate, the girl burns.’

She turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her, leaving him in darkness.

He wasn’t alone for long, but it was long enough for the nausea to subside, long enough to take stock. The tiki was gone and so was his koru knot. His pockets were empty—at least they felt that way when they pressed against the floor. His shoes were gone, but he was still clothed like a settler boy. Kelly must be still alive, if Donna was to be believed. What about Spriggs, and Manu? What about Fitzy? Was the turehu alive or dead? Where were they? Were they alive? He felt a wave of helplessness, but fought it.
I won’t give up! I won’t
! He remembered the look on Donna’s face.
Why does she need my help? And what is she so afraid of?
She has the tiki…she wants my help…why does she need my help? She has the tiki…shouldn’t she be giving it to Puarata?
Where is Puarata? I can use the tiki…can she?
She wants me to help her to use the tiki! Why?

Where is Puarata?

The door opened, and a fat soldier with a bulbous nose, who stank of sweat and tobacco, stomped in. Mat remembered the smell and guessed it was the man who had hit him. Big-Nose lifted him effortlessly, one massive arm under his belly, and carried him out of the tiny storeroom, carelessly smacking Mat’s shoulder against the door frame.

Big-Nose carried on down a hall and into a bathroom. It was a modern bathroom, with a shower, a bath and a toilet, and carpet in pale yellow. A rubbish bin sat beside the toilet, and the bench was littered with women’s make-up and grooming accessories.

Showing no surprise at these modern surroundings, Big-Nose dropped Mat and bent over him, unknotting the ropes about his wrists and ankles. Blood surged back into his feet and hands, making them tingle painfully. The soldier prodded him with his boot.

‘Clean yourself. You have fifteen minutes.’ He folded his arms across his belly and leant against the door.

Mat glared at him. ‘Can I have some privacy?’ he asked bitterly.

Big-Nose shook his head. ‘Just get on with it, you skinny little half-breed.’

Mat felt a surge of hatred. But he turned the shower on, then peeled his clothes off, his hands shaking, feeling scared, and embarrassed, and so angry he could almost scream.

It was terrifying to be naked in front of the brute, and it was a relief to step into the shower, and be hidden by the curtain. For a minute he stood there, letting the water wash over him, and the steam envelop him. For a minute he let himself go, just a little, just enough to let some tears come, to let his helpless despair well up and be washed away.

He lent forward, and groped downward to the left for the shampoo. As he opened his eyes, he saw the rubbish bin, which was empty of all but a few fingernail clippings, stained with bright-red polish. This must be Donna’s house.

They must have shifted us while I was unconscious. How long have I been unconscious? Where are the others?

He washed his hair, and soaped his bruised body. Everywhere seemed to ache. He felt sore and tired, and desperately wanted to lie down, crawl into a ball, and wish everything away.
But I can’t do that,
he thought.
I have to save Kelly, and Wiri, and everyone else.

‘Hurry up,’ growled Big-Nose.

Mat felt a surge of fury. He thought of the nail clippings, and wondered if he could pocket the nail scissors Donna had used. Perhaps if he could get the soldier to leave…He climbed out, trying to form a plan. There was a towel, and he used it to dry himself, conscious of the soldier watching his every move with piggish eyes. He dressed. ‘I need to use the toilet.’

Big-Nose grunted. ‘Then do it.’

Mat glared at him. ‘I don’t want you watching.’

‘Too bad. You ain’t leaving my sight, boy.’

Damn
! Mat turned away, and opened his breeches to use the toilet. What could he do? He tried to keep his head still as he scanned the bathroom with his eyes. But he couldn’t see the scissors, or anything he could use as a weapon. He looked down again in despair, staring into the rubbish bin, at the nail clippings that lay on the bottom, like little shards of bloodied bones. Like bones…

A new plan jolted into his mind.

He finished with the toilet, half-turned, then feigned nausea. He sank to his knees, and coughed into the toilet bowl. He felt Big-Nose take a step toward him, then snort in contempt. He made himself retch, and at the same time, shielded by his body he put his right hand into the rubbish bin, and picked up some nail clippings. He managed to get four, and slip them into a pocket, before Big-Nose hauled him to his feet.

‘Wash your face,’ he growled.

Hoping desperately for a chance to pay Big-Nose back, Mat did as he was told, then allowed himself to be pushed down the hall, past two doors, and into a large room.

It was an old-fashioned drawing-room, dominated by an impressive oak desk, clear of everything but an ink pot and quill stand. Behind the desk was a leather-bound chair. The floor had an Indian rug, patterned in maroon and black. A television sat in the corner to the left, and a stereo on a shelf above. Both were lifeless. Both walls were lined with books, some with old-fashioned bindings, others modern paperbacks. A line-up of glossy magazines was arranged on one shelf. There were two windows, both curtained and
shut. The only light came from a chandelier high above the desk, lit with electric lamps.

Donna sat at the desk in the leather chair, her battered visage gazing fixedly at the tiki in her hands. She had changed into modern clothes; a black blouse and jeans. ‘Leave him here, and wait outside,’ she ordered Big-Nose brusquely. He nodded, shoved Mat into the room, and closed the door.

‘Sit,’ ordered Donna. Mat shuffled timidly to the nearest chair. She sat again, and picked up the tiki, waving it at him. ‘How? How is it that a little rat like you can make this thing work, when I can’t, and I’ve dedicated my life to the occult? How is that?’

Mat shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered truthfully.

She leant forward. ‘Is there a secret word? A spell?’

Mat shook his head.

‘Nothing? You’d better tell me, boy. Or it will go very badly for your friends.’

Friends…maybe the others were still alive
!

Something must have showed on his face, because Donna scowled. ‘Don’t get too excited. The captain and the native are in a lock-up, and you’ll never see them again. The girl is here, though. Right here, where I can do whatever I want…and she definitely won’t like what I want to do to her.’

Mat swallowed. He slipped his right hand into his pocket, to the small pile of nail clippings. He found the biggest one, and pressed it to his palm. ‘Why do you need to know?’ he asked in his firmest voice. ‘Aren’t you going to give it to Puarata?’

‘That’s none of your business!’ Donna snapped. ‘Just tell me how to use it.’

Mat took a deep breath. For his plan to work, he needed Wiri to be out, but not controlled. It was a risk. He could be handing control of him to Donna forever, but he couldn’t think of another way…

‘Alright,’ he said, ‘but you have to show me Kelly first.’

Donna glared at him. ‘Just do as you’re told, maggot!’

Mat stared back defiantly. She slammed her fist onto the desk and hissed. ‘Corporal!’

Big-Nose opened the door.

‘Bring me the girl!’

While they waited, Donna went to the window to her right—Mat’s left—and opened it. He saw streetlights, and far in the distance, the lights of the Auckland harbour bridge.
We’re back in the real world,
he thought with a jolt.
But what about the soldiers?

Donna muttered to herself, and pulled the curtain, then opened the opposite one. Mat stared, at darkness lit only by a guttering gaslight, and a line of carriages winding past below, led by settlers with flaring torches. Aotearoa!

His mind whirled. Somehow, Donna’s house existed in both worlds at once…and she could walk between them. He stirred excitedly, new plans forming, but first they had to find a way to escape. He looked at the desk. Donna held the tiki, but his wooden koru knot still lay on the desk. He bridled at the thought of Donna’s cold hands touching it.

Big-Nose appeared at the door, dragging Kelly by the feet. She was tied up, her dress ripped and her legs grazed. He
left her in the middle of the floor. Kelly looked up at Mat, her eyes round and frightened. There was a cream-coloured gag wrapped around her mouth. She tried to speak, but all that came out was furious hissing and grunting.

‘Leave us,’ Donna told Big-Nose. ‘Don’t touch her,’ she added to Mat.

She stalked around the desk, holding the tiki in her bloodless hands.

‘She’s still alive and if you don’t want to see me correct that oversight, then you’d better do as you’re told. Now, tell me how to make this talisman work!’

She stopped in front of Mat and glared down at him, her ruined face ablaze with a strange mix of fear and greed. She was much taller than him, and though skinny, he’d already felt her strength.

Mat looked at Kelly, who shook her head.

Mat tried to send her a reassuring look with his eyes, then looked back at Donna and nodded. ‘I could show you,’ he offered.

Donna sneered. ‘No you won’t. I’m not stupid.
Tell
me.’

Oh well, worth a try…

‘Come on! Puarata is coming. Here! And if you think you’re badly off with me, it will be so much worse with him.’

Mat heard the fear in her voice. She was literally shaking, her voice becoming shrill.

‘You don’t know what it’s like to serve Puarata.
You don’t know what he does to me.
If you help me, I’ll set you free, set you both free. All your friends. But you have to help me.’

Her battered face looked suddenly naked, and Mat could read everything about her: the greed for power over others, the desire for money and status and magic, that had led her to Puarata. He read her fall into his grasp, and her hopeless fear that now, there was nothing left but a life of eternal servitude to a pitiless master. And he read her desperate hope that by gaining mastery of the tiki, and the spirit of Wiri, somehow she might win freedom.

He clenched his right hand into a fist within his pocket, and gouged the biggest nail clipping into the same cuts he’d opened when he last used the tiki. He felt a sting, and the flow of blood. He felt a pulse in his hand, and a slickness flooding his palm, bathing the nail clipping. ‘All you need to do is picture him, and call him by his name, Toa,’ he said to her. ‘And blood. You need your blood on the tiki.’

Her eyes narrowed, and almost glowed. ‘Blood,’ she purred like a vampire. ‘Blood, of course it would be blood!’ She went around the desk, and opened a drawer. Mat closed his eyes, and concentrated on the nail clipping, and on Donna. He felt that same pale nimbus of light he had used to control Toa at the trial begin to form, but it was smaller, paler. He pulled the rest of the nail clippings into his palm, felt the light strengthen, and go questing outward.

Donna was cutting her palm, with a silvery knife she’d drawn from a carved leather sheath in her desk drawer. She rubbed the welling blood onto the tiki, her face avid. ‘Toa,’ she crooned. ‘Toa…come to me.’