The Lost Tohunga (14 page)

Deano found the tourism desk, and sorted some accommodation at a place on the east side. They detoured into the industrial zone, and he stashed the guns on the Aotearoa side, barely managing the transition. Then they found the motel: a low-rent place across the main road from the lake, off Te Ngae Road. The units were simple, each a big lounge-dining bedsit with side-by-side double beds, plus a separate bathroom and kitchen. Original 'seventies decor, as tired and bedraggled as its guests. But the units had connecting doors, so he could keep an eye on everybody. It would do for now.

He put Ronnie, Ko and the babies in one unit, locked the main door and pocketed the key. He left the connecting
door open, so that Ronnie and his family could only exit via his unit. Brutal took one bed, clutching his slashed belly silently. Parukau took the other. Just before he passed out, he remembered the handcuffs, and gave them to Deano. ‘Take Hine and cuff her to the railing in the bathroom, Deano. Then stand watch. I gotta sleep. She gives you any grief, smack her one.'

Deano took the cuffs, and then went to the corner, where Hine sat like a zombie. He pulled her upright, and dragged her into the bathroom. The click of the cuffs were the last thing Parukau heard before he succumbed to exhaustion.

 

Much later, a voice woke him, not with sound, but a prickling in his mind.

Hine! Hine! Can you hear me? I'm here, here in Rotorua. Where are you?

A mental call, amateurish but loud. He shook his head, and sat up, feeling a little refreshed. Brutal was asleep on the bed, snoring gently. Deano sat across the bathroom door, his head on his chest, eyes closed;
useless!
He felt a sudden panic, and stumbled to the bathroom door, but the girl was still there, cuffed to the pipes of the basin, asleep. Her hair was a dark pillow, and her chest rose and fell.

He opened himself to the mental call and got a vision of the little shit that had caused half this mess: the kid he had smacked up in Taupo. Matiu Douglas, the cops had named him during questioning. He was in a hotel room somewhere. He looked fragile, a twig to be snapped. He repeated the call, and Parukau heard Hine stir in her sleep. He pulled back
slightly, and orientated himself, tracing the point where the call originated …
Ahh, there you are … I think we owe you a visit, kid …

He dragged himself to a sitting position, fought for energy. ‘Brutal, Deano, get up, you lazy bastards!'

The two men groaned and stirred. He kicked Deano's leg. ‘Asleep on duty! If this was the army you'd be up for a flogging! Brutal! Get your fat brown ass outta bed. We got work to do. Get Ronnie!'

 

Within half an hour, they were wending their way through the traffic, back into town. Deano drove, while Ronnie sat in the back. Brutal he left at the motel to guard the women. He didn't trust Ko not to try to bust Hine and do a runner.

‘What are we doing this kid for?' Deano asked, timidly.

Ronnie grunted. ‘Cos we didn't get to finish the job back in Taupo, an' he got us arrested.'

It was only half the truth.
You don't really want to know what I'm going to do to him
… There were various ways a fellow Adept could be butchered so that his power flowed into his killer.
Doing this kid is gonna give me a big nasty boost, right when I need one
.

‘How'd you know he's here?' Deano puzzled.

You don't wanna know that either.

They slipped into the hotel lobby. He stole a master key from an oblivious Asian cleaner. He was feeling better and better — getting his full array of tricks and treats working again. But when they entered the boy's room, the little turd was gone. His weapons were still there, and his clothes, but
the room was empty. There was another sports bag on the second bed. Whose? He glared about in frustration, then gave a tired shrug.

Where is he?
He closed his eyes. The image came quickly: the boy was quite close, in a café ordering food, down by the lakeside. He probed his surface thoughts, and then chuckled. ‘They's jus' refuelling, boys.' He sat by the window, and put his feet up. ‘Rest up, fellas. The little sucker will be back soon enough.'

 

Donna Kyle owned a house near Rotorua airport, which Puarata had given her. Like her home in Auckland, the house opened onto both worlds. She didn't like this house, though. It creaked, and was full of bad memories. She lay on the big four-poster bed, and watched the slowly shifting half-light that penetrated the drapes play across the old oil paintings and antique furniture.

She had come here that morning, before dawn, and slept away the day. She was becoming a night creature, was forced to be, so that she could direct her nocturnal minions. The patupaiarehe lay in lightless cellars below ground, awaiting the sunset. They could walk in daylight, but it left them weaker. She had fed them on cats she had bought from a pet shop after the journey from Taupo. Thorn and Heron were both wounded: Thorn had been burned and stabbed by Matiu Douglas, and Heron grazed by a silver ball fired by Parukau. They would heal, though. Stone had returned bearing messages of loyalty from the nearest goblin tribe. Waka were coming, he told her, full of eager warriors. Well,
they couldn't be less useful than those Thorn had roused in Taupo.

She had lashed Thorn mercilessly when the skinny wretch had returned in failure from attacking the Douglas boy. One half-trained Adept and she couldn't handle it!
He knew my name!
Thorn had wailed. That brought her up short.
How could the boy know Thorn's true name?

And then there was her own failure. Despite trailing Parukau in his raid on Jones's cottage, she had been unable to destroy her rival and take the girl he was so interested in. She had no-one but herself to blame for that.
Only a bad carpenter blames their tools … It is I who is failing …

She got up, pulled a gown around her and sat in the cane chair beside the curtained window. The remains of a bottle of red wine stained the bottom of a crystal glass. The digital clock that Puarata had always said marred the colonial decor told her it was just after three in the afternoon. She left the curtains closed, more comfortable in the half-light.
And let's not think too hard about that …

Too many unanswered questions. Who was the girl Parukau had gone to so much trouble to take back? How had the Matiu Douglas boy known Thorn's true name? Was Te Iho here? Most of all: why had her father reappeared and what does he really know?

He promised to help me — why?
Instinctively she rejected the thought of seeking him out. She would never be able to control him …
God, I hate this game! But there is no way out of it.

A harsh voice crackled inside her mind, startling her.
Mistress Kyle,
Kurangaituku called.
I have found the Douglas boy. Shall I seize him?

She clenched a fist. Second chances were all too rare in life. ‘Strike,' she replied, aloud and psychically. ‘Take him alive if you can. I will come and collect.'

It was still daylight. The patupaiarehe were of little use to her until sunset. She decided to let them recover. She rose quickly, dressed and was gone, while her servants slept, oblivious.

 

Mat pulled his arm over his head, and ran for the hotel, yelling for Riki to follow. The birds erupted in a cloud around him. Talons and beaks tore at him, feathers billowed, then he burst into clear air, Riki a few steps behind. The towering old woman seemed to flow towards them. A few people stared at the birds, but no-one came to his aid. A couple shouted something, but the words were inaudible to him, lost in the beating wings and shrieking beaks.

‘The hotel!' he shouted. ‘Run!' The building loomed ahead, towering over the lakefront green. He glanced up at the sheer wall of glass, as a gull veered and smashed into the bank of windows with a sickening smack, bounced and then plummeted in a broken tangle. A cross of broken glass smeared in blood and feathers marked the impact point. He saw the outline of a man, right where the bird had struck, and just
knew
that their rooms had been found already.

‘This way!' he shouted, swerving left towards the main street, with no plan but to find people, lots of people. Birds smacked against his back and shoulder, tearing cloth and skin. He staggered. Behind him, Riki gasped and swore. Mat couldn't look, he was too tangled in beating wings and
flashing claws and beaks. Then Riki fell, and Mat spun, his heart in his mouth. Riki sprawled beneath the Birdwitch. She had leapt on his back and forced him to ground. Mat raised a fist, fire leaping to his command, and hurled it. Birds shrieked and veered aside, but with a feral grin, Kurangaituku vanished, with Riki limp in her claws.

‘No!' Mat tore at the air, shifting himself to Aotearoa. The world lurched and he stumbled and half-fell on an expanse of well-trampled earth amidst a cluster of settler buildings, outside the walls of a huge pa. Clumps of settlers turned with startled eyes. Voices shouted, calling the witch's name. Children stared mutely. Men snatched up weapons. There were hundreds of eyes on him, but his were on the Birdwitch, already forty metres away and bounding at an insane speed. He tore after her, ignoring the shouts of the locals, and plunged into the bush that rimmed the settlement. Kurangaituku bounded away, through marsh and water, her every step ten of his. He howled a challenge, threw fire — but it burst impotently over the bush. She moved like a jumping spider; he couldn't even get close.

Within a few minutes, he had lost her entirely. He stopped, breathless, furious and frustrated.

Idiot! You've brought your best friend into this and he's been taken inside two hours! Some Adept!

He stared about him, desperate for something he could do. The forest was utterly silent. Rotorua-Aotearoa was lost somewhere behind, and there seemed to be no pursuit. Not even a bird sang. There were birds, though. Thousands of them. He stared at them and they stared back.

Suddenly he heard someone, someone with no bush sense,
stamping through the brush and undergrowth, following him. He dropped from sight, and crawled behind a fallen log. But not before he caught a glimpse of a pale woman whose face regularly filled his nightmares. He tried to muster the strength to slip back to the real world, but knew she would still sense him if he did. Her footsteps stopped, a mere dozen metres away.

‘Matiu Douglas!' Donna Kyle called in a low hard voice. ‘Come out! I know you're there!'

Thursday afternoon

D
eano sat at the window of the hotel room and stared out at the lake. They had been there nearly an hour and still the boy hadn't come back. Evan — no, ‘Parukau' — wouldn't let him light a ciggie, because he said the boy might smell it out in the hallway and run off. As if anyone had that good a nose! Outside, the shadows were lengthening across the green. Evan — he couldn't get the new name into his head — was staring down at the park intently. It was starting to freak him out.

So he fingered his pack of fags some more, and played with the gun in his pocket. A nice little piece that Evan had given him; a Glock, just like real gangsters might use. Christ, he had never even held a handgun before, but he felt like a proper LA boy in da hood now …
But why can't I have a smoke?

The temptation got too much and he stalked over to the bathroom door. Ronnie was lying on the bed, holding a taiaha they had found in the boy's gear. Evan had grinned when he found the two old pistols, and had loaded them up. Old relics, but kind of cool. Ronnie wouldn't touch any of them, wouldn't even look at them. He was still freaked from what
he had seen the night before. For Deano it had just been a blur, of stacking guns, and then Evan had touched him and the guns and they were somehow, somewhere else. He refused to think about that.

Bugger this — I need a puff!

He shut the bathroom door, lit up a ciggie and had a quick puff, to stop his hands shaking. Not that he was scared or anything, but the waiting was getting on his nerves.

 

Parukau stared down at Matiu Douglas and his friend, wondering if he should wait or move. Then he saw the way the birds were hovering, and realized what was happening. Kurangaituku, he guessed immediately, even as the Birdwitch stalked into view, the same flowing hair, the cloak, the heron-like walk. Old Cootface! They had hated each other from the start. She was an ugly, primitive thing. A jealous, carping old harpy. Maybe this time he could take her down forever.

Kurangaituku!

He hadn't meant to shape her name out loud, but it just fell from his mind. She glanced up at him, her eyes flaring, then her arm jabbed towards him. Suddenly a gull veered from the flock in a sharp arc, and flew straight at him. He flinched as the bird hit the glass and broke itself. Blood and feathers smeared as it rebounded and fell away. The plate glass cracked in a great cross. Kurangaituku glared up at him, and then turned back to her prey.

‘Holy shit!' yelped Ronnie, gaping at the cracked window. ‘What the hell was that?'

Parukau shook himself, and then gave a hoarse laugh. ‘Jus' some stupid ol' bird.'

He watched the boys run, first towards the hotel, and then veering away. He cursed under his breath.
What the hell? Damnit, safety is here!
Then Kurangaituku leapt like a deformed Amazon and landed on the back of the other boy in a tumbling whirl. Matiu Douglas turned and flames washed through the press of birds —
Impressive!
— but the witch was already gone. In a heartbeat, the boy was too, as the birds rose and flapped away. A couple of people were staring at the dissipating flock of birds, as if wondering whether what they thought they had seen was real or some stunt.

Damn! Cootface got to him first … Damn!

Deano came out of the toilet, reeking of smoke. Couldn't these idiots do anything he asked of them? ‘What happened, Ev— Parukau? What broke the window?'

‘Just a dumb bird.' He peered down, trying to think clearly.
What did it matter if Cootface got the boy? But why did she want him? Was he just another meal for her? Or was he another piece in this puzzle after all? What had Jones confided in him?

‘Boss?'

‘Shut up,' he snarled. ‘I'm trying to think. Deano, check the hallway. And put out that bloody smoke!'

Ronnie said nothing as Deano slunk out the door, which for a dumbass was pretty smart.

Parukau turned back to the cracked, gore-smeared window, and chewed his goatee, clenching and unclenching his fists. There were more important questions to ponder, about Kurangaituku and whose side she was on. And where was Donna Kyle? Surely it was her behind the goblin attack
last night! Where was she now?

He felt like a child at a footy game — he could see some of the moves, but he wasn't understanding them, didn't know the rules, wasn't able to play …
Blood of the Swimmer; Hine's blood … I know it's vital! But where? How? Why? Damn this!

Ronnie got up, and fingered the cracked glass, his soft face lost. Suddenly he giggled incongruously, and pointed down into the street. ‘Jeez, look at that thing!'

Parukau peered incuriously down to the street, where a Volkswagen, an original Beetle by the look of it, was turning into the hotel car park. It was vivid pink, with bright floral patterns and some sort of clown face painted on it. ‘Heh, gotta be a clown to drive an ol' heap like that!'

Couldn't the moron stay focused for two minutes?
‘Sit down, Ronnie. An' shut up. I gotta think …'

 

Deano waited in the hallway, in a little alcove just down from the door to Mat's room. Some old biddy walked past, looking sniffily at the ciggie in his hand. He puffed it defiantly, meeting her eye.
So what you gonna do 'bout it, lady?
He wished they could just go and get on with finding this loot that Evan — Parukau —
whatever
— kept talking about. Where was it, anyway? Why weren't they working on that?

His mind went back to the motel where they were staying. That was a bad scene, too. Hell, he liked Hine, thought she was damned hot, true thing. Chaining her up was extreme, even for Evan. And whatever had gone down in Taupo the other night had seriously freaked Brutal and Ronnie. Those few seconds when Evan had vanished and then reappeared
with the boys and Hine had been savage, he could sense that. He had never seen those guys scared, but they had come back all torn up and shit-scared. And how did Evan do that?

He shied from that question, instinctively.

If Evan hadn't been in such a foul mood, he would have demanded some answers, for sure! But ever since that overnight in the lock-up, he had been weird. Deano wanted the old Evan back, the laid-back, cool dude. He dragged on his ciggie, working up the nerve to go back inside that room and get some answers. He wanted to hit something. Or shoot the gun, and feel that hard, heavy thing buck in his hands.
Where's that stupid kid? I hope he shows up, so we can take it all out on the little jerk
.

The lift chimed and a man got out, with a pregnant woman and a big golden Labrador. The man was Maori, tall and rangy. He moved like a runner, or a rugby player — strong, loose strides. He was wearing jeans and a loose polo shirt, and his face was handsome, clean-shaven, with curly black hair cropped close; just one blemish — a scar on his temple. Deano felt a surge of resentment, for his looks, for his confidence. Wasn't right, him stepping tall like he owned the place. The bitch with him was Pakeha, waddling like she was about to drop a sprog. She had dyed-pink hair and looked like she had an attitude, but both of them seemed tired, like people who had come a long way with bad news to tell.

The Labrador looked up at him and he returned its stare. There was something strange about its gaze, something too focused. He looked away first, then back at the man. ‘Hey, bro,' he said, unsure why. He felt truculent and nervy.

The man nodded at him, and their eyes met. Clear, strong, timeless eyes that looked like they had seen just about anything, and faced it down. Deano dropped his gaze, feeling suddenly small. He looked up again only when he knew those eyes had moved past him. They had stopped outside the door to the boy's room.
Jeez, now what do I do?

The man raised his hand and knocked twice. The woman was still looking back at him, and so was that mutt, wary and hostile.
Maybe they're friends of the boy.
He slid his hand into his pocket, gripping the Glock. ‘Hey! That ain't your room.'

The Lab growled. The door opened a little. He held his breath, everything paused … and then it was like someone yelled ‘Go!' in his head. He pulled out the gun.

 

Parukau sat bolt upright as someone knocked on the door. Ronnie looked at him for guidance. ‘Dat the boy?' he asked.

The boy wouldn't knock, you idiot. It's his own room, and he's got the key.
Nor would Deano … Room Service? Where was Deano? Shit! What if it's another ambush, like those tipua that came flooding out of the trees last night? There was only one other way out of this room, through the window — but they were three flights up. He swallowed, his skin going slick.

He picked up one of the antique pistols and rammed it into his pocket, then cocked the other one and put it in his left hand. If it was another attack, he would cross to Aotearoa, so best he had guns whose powder worked there. In his right hand he palmed another Glock, one of those he had got from Robert Heke in Taupo. ‘Get the door, Ronnie,' he hissed. ‘Take it slow.'

Ronnie stared at him, his left hand holding the taiaha like a kid's softball bat, then he dropped it and pulled out his own Glock. He looked like he was crapping himself as he fumbled with the handle and pulled the door slightly ajar. He peered through the crack, blinked and growled, ‘Who da hell are you?'

 

Even as Deano advanced, he saw the man flick his head forward, forehead neatly cracking Ronnie's nose. Ronnie howled in pain and staggered backwards into the bedroom.

Bastard! I'll fix you!
He hefted the gun, began to shout a challenge.

The Labrador was already moving, coming towards Deano in two accelerating bounds. Its muscles bunched and then all he could see was teeth as it leapt. He pulled up his hands to shield his face, and then the hot wet mouth closed over his gun-hand wrist, and rows of teeth punctured his skin as the weight of the dog hammered into him, pitching him backwards. The sudden agony of the bite shocked through him and he heard himself screech, and his fingers lost all grip as bones snapped in his wrist.

He hit the ground with a pulverising crack. The gun spun off down the corridor. Shots went off inside the room and bullets tore into the hallway ceiling. The pregnant woman shouted something, but he was under the Lab as its jaws snapped at his head. He tried to roll, but the thing was heavy and there was no leverage. His left hand beat weakly at its flank, his legs flailing for purchase, and then those huge jaws opened above his throat, and plunged down.

 

Parukau saw Ronnie's head suddenly cracked backwards, and Ronnie lurch, trying to aim his gun at a man who had burst through the door, slamming him sideways against the wall. Ronnie howled and fired, but the newcomer had already caught his gun hand and forced it upward so the bullets spat high into the ceiling of the hallway. Then the newcomer butted his forehead once more into Ronnie's face, and Ronnie fell backwards onto the bed with a choked cry, his gun spilling as blood splattered from his pulped nose. He cried out like a child and crabbed backwards.

The newcomer saw Parukau and moved instantly, diving sideways through the bathroom door even as Parukau's gun trained on him. A wide, shorter shape —
a pregnant woman?
— was silhouetted in the hallway door, but reflex took Parukau's aim towards the man, and the Glock coughed two bullets between the two targets, puncturing the bathroom wall. He jerked his aim back to the doorway, but with surprising grace the woman at the door was gone. He heard her voice call ‘Wiri?', and his mind whirled.

Wiri — WIREMU! THE IMMORTAL!

He knew Wiremu, Puarata's spirit-warrior, one of the tohunga's two bodyguards, his hit men when all other coercion failed. Two immortal warriors he had conjured somehow: Tupu, the unstoppable force; and Wiremu, the silent killer. He recalled hundreds of council sessions with those two flanking Puarata, reminding them all of his power and reach.

And now Wiremu the Immortal was here. But he had never been one to dodge bullets back then — he hadn't needed
to — and he had heard rumours whilst skulking about in the Ureweras that when Puarata had died, things had changed for Wiremu too …

Boots thumped outside in the hallway, then went still. He heard a wet canine growl. Shadows moved beside the door.
Deano must be down. Useless kid
. He cocked the pistol, and kicked Ronnie. ‘Get up, Ronnie,' he whispered. Then he raised his voice. ‘Hey, Wiremu! Is that you?'

‘Who's asking?' came the reply from the bathroom.

‘An old friend,' he called out, stalling for time. ‘What're you doing here?' Although he could almost guess — the Douglas boy must've called him. ‘I hear you ain't so immortal now … an' your woman out there is either a fat cow or you got a kid on the way. Not so invulnerable any more, are you?'

‘Parukau,' answered Wiremu, a few seconds later. ‘I recognize your voice … and your stink. I was warned you were back in circulation. How was the time spent as a dog? Did you pick up any manners?'

Ronnie was on his knees behind the bed now, clutching his face like a woman. He would be no use, except as a distraction. More distantly, he heard shouting, and he could bet the sirens would sound next. He wished Brutal were here, to throw at Wiremu whilst he escaped. ‘If you gonna come out that door and settle this, you better do it soon, “Immortal”,' he taunted. ‘Otherwise the cops are gonna be all over this place.' He put the antique pistol down on the bed, and gripped the Glock with both hands.

‘Doesn't bother me,' Wiremu returned. ‘I think you'll have more to explain than we do.'

Parukau heard a noise from the bathroom, like a knife
scraping glass, and wondered what it was. ‘Maybe.'

The bathroom went silent. Sirens blared in the distance, muffled by the hotel's soundproofing — which meant they must be pretty close. Parukau eyed the door to the hallway. The woman was out there. There had been no sound since the dog had growled. Deano must be out of it: did the woman have Deano's gun? Did she know how to use it? Where was the dog? If it had taken down Deano, then it was a factor.