Justice and Utu (8 page)

‘Then how can
she
help?' Mat asked, glancing at Evie. ‘What training does she have?'

Is he so arrogant he can't imagine anyone doing what he can't?
Evie scowled at him.

‘You'll see,' Donna replied. She grabbed a handful of clothes and gestured abruptly at a stallholder, a spotty-faced temp Evie didn't know. ‘I'll have these, and five pairs of size-eight knickers. Hurry.' The witch turned to Mat. ‘You can pay.' She walked to the changing rooms with the handful of dresses.

Mat raised his eyebrows, but nevertheless handed over the money, emptying his wallet in the process. ‘Is there an ATM here?' he asked the assistant, who pointed one out down the aisle. ‘Back in a sec.' He glanced at the tall youth, then at Everalda. ‘This is Damien. He'll take care of you.'

Evie was left alone with the ginger-haired Pakeha.
Take care of me, will he?
She glared at him.

Damien thrust a hand at her. ‘Hi,' he said, tentatively.

She flinched from his hand and stepped away. They weren't acting like warlocks, but she knew nothing about them. She swallowed, wavering. Then, just before he dropped his proffered hand, she seized it, bracing herself for the sudden wash of intimacy …

A sword, a fencing foil, a white-clad fighter jabbing at him … A soldier on a ledge raising a bayonet and thrusting … A vast eye emerging from stone, and then a flood of dark water … A laughing Maori boy with lank hair and a wide smile: Riki … A skinny,
tired-looking mother and a grumpy father yelling something … A sister who carped all the time, but he loved her anyway … Smalltown life in a drowsy country town: Dannevirke … A burning desire for more, always more … Mat showing him and Riki a glowing place where every sense seemed stretched by new smells and tastes and colours: Aotearoa—

She dropped his hand as if it were on fire.

He's no warlock … He wasn't an enemy, either.

She smiled involuntarily. ‘Damien Meilinck of Dannevirke. Nice to meet you.'

‘How do you know my name?' He backed off a step and took a deep breath. ‘Jeez, you people! Can you not do that? Bloody Hogwarts graduates showing off.'

She laughed softly, suddenly incredibly relieved. ‘Sorry, I didn't mean to.'

Damien ducked his head. ‘Hey, earlier, we were just trying to put witch-bitch off bringing you. We weren't really dissing your skills, yeah?'

She let it go. ‘What's going on?'

Damien glanced about, then hissed ‘Shhh' as he saw Donna re-emerge from the changing rooms, wearing a form-fitting black blouse and skirt, and a grey hoodie. She was still barefoot, which was her next concern. She led them to a shoe shop.

Mat rejoined them as the witch selected some black trainers. Again Mat had to pay; then they left the market. The foul-smelling overalls were dumped in a bin as they walked towards a taxi rank.

While Donna arranged a taxi, Evie took courage from what she'd learnt of Damien and extended a hand towards Mat,
although with much more trepidation — his aura exuded potency. ‘My name is Everalda van Zelle,' she said.

‘Mat Douglas,' he replied. They touched …

She reeled under an onslaught of images:
A massive Maori warrior chasing him … A tiki carved from bone, the most beautifully ugly thing he's ever seen … A tall Maori warrior appearing in a glade … A girl with garish hair and a dog that isn't a dog … That beautiful land she'd glimpsed in Damien's mind … Donna Kyle's face, almost vampiric in her ferocity … A wall of goblin-like creatures manning a palisade … The same monstrous eye the visions from Damien had shown, but overlaid with a beautiful girl's face … A pulsing greenstone heart and an old Maori man with an aura so strong it hurt to look at him … A weather-beaten white man with a pipe … A pale auburn-haired mother and a Maori father arguing … Damien and Riki, laughing … A thin girl with close-cropped hair, her face lit by a computer screen, a smile glinting off her teeth as she looked up—

She pulled her hand away, feeling like an intruder.

He was looking back at her, his eyes like mirrors. He swallowed twice, then whispered. ‘She blinded you … Donna blinded your left eye …'

She backed away.
What did he see in me?
That had never happened before …

‘How did you do that?' Mat asked her.

She shook her head. There were far more important questions. ‘Why are you with her?'

‘We have the same goal,' Mat replied. ‘For now.'

‘You're hunting someone?'

‘Sebastian Venn and Asher Grieve.'

‘Sebastian Venn …' Donna had brought him to see Evie
once. She spat to get the taste of his name from her mouth, remembering the foul sensation of taking his hand, and the twisted lines on his palms. ‘The American?'

‘Yeah. But Grieve is worse. We've got to find them while we can.'

‘Why does she care?'

‘Grieve is her father — but she hates him, more than anyone in the world.'

She glanced at Donna Kyle with sudden insight. The blonde woman had flagged down a taxi. ‘Come! Get in!' she snapped, opening the front door.

‘Hey, I'm tallest, maybe I should go in the front?' Damien said, seemingly just to be annoying.

Donna eyed him up coldly. ‘Bringing you was a whim, boy. I could have an equal and opposite whim at any moment.'

Evie sat behind the driver, pressed against Mat Douglas's side, and for once she didn't mind the contact. Although she still felt like she was wearing his skin, he wasn't using the connection to torment her the way the warlocks had. He even knew how to reduce the sharing from his side. His touch and his aura felt good, like a leather jacket that fitted just so, and smelt warm and felt supple and protecting. And he was impressed with her, she could feel it. Which meant that he could sense that she was impressed, too.

Abruptly, pressing up to him didn't feel like such a good thing. She pulled away.

I've just met you, for God's sake!

He shared a look with her as she edged apart from him, then blushed and stared out the window. She did the same.

As the taxi purred into the traffic heading for the harbour
bridge, it felt like the beginning of something big, something life-changing. She thought of her reading, and especially The Tower, the card that concerned itself with change. She was reminded of that Neil Young song, the one about castles burning.

Everything's going to change. I'm going to be cured … I'm going to be normal again …

Despite the presence of Donna and the implicit danger, she couldn't wait.

A
UCKLAND AND
A
KARANA
, F
RIDAY NIGHT

C
rossing to the North Shore took an hour through the crawling jam-packed traffic. Donna took them to a small hotel, not far from the Takapuna shops. Uncomfortably, she booked a family suite, with two bedrooms and only one bathroom. Again, Mat had to pay, to his growing annoyance — he was having to dig deep into his meagre savings account. Good thing Dad trusted him with an ATM card. He wondered where she'd stowed their cellphones — she'd confiscated Everalda's phone, too.

Everalda …
Wow!

Her touch, and the flood of images and information, had stunned him. It had been so unexpected and intimate. And seeing Donna in that vision had reminded him of her vile past, whatever she was now. To blind someone so coldly appalled him.

He could scarcely take his eyes from Evie now. She was pretty, despite the eye, but more than that he could sense
courage and character. It seemed Donna had used Evie for her own purposes, but Evie still seemed … wholesome, an unwilling part of Donna's world. She did not even seem to know of Aotearoa.

‘I don't think I need to remind you all that we are all in this together,' Donna rapped out as she closed the hotel-room door. ‘You might think it would be clever to phone the police, or something similar. You would be wrong.' She fixed Mat with a stare. ‘I have given your father the information needed to shut down Venn in your world. That means he'll be forced to move in Aotearoa, and he'll move fast. Only a small group also travelling fast will be able to overhaul him. That will be us.'

‘How can the four of us deal with Venn and Grieve?' Mat replied.

‘We will find a way.' Donna fished into her hoodie and pulled out Mat's cellphone. She thumbed the keypad, and put it to her ear. He heard it ringing as he watched her, puzzled.

A male voice crackled, one he knew. ‘Mat?'

‘Hello, Wiremu, this is Donna Kyle. I am with Matiu now. I mean him no harm. I want to meet with you tomorrow morning. Come to Takapuna Beach, beside the boating club. Nine o'clock. Come alone, or I won't show. Bring a large vehicle. Tell no-one.'

She thumbed the connection dead, and looked around. ‘I'll order in pizza, but right now I need a shower.' She ran a hand through her greasy hair and sniffed distastefully. ‘Desperately.' She spun, stalked into the bath room and pulled the door to, not quite closed.

‘Let's go,' Damien hissed.

Mat shook his head. ‘It's a test of trust. She wants to see if we'll do a runner.'

‘What's to stop us?'

‘Ourselves. Listen, I think she's right: only someone capable of moving through both Aotearoa and New Zealand can overtake Venn. I think we're best to play along for now.'

Damien looked incredulous. ‘Serious?'

Mat nodded soberly. ‘Yeah. If Wiri agrees to help her tomorrow, we should, too.' He turned to Everalda. ‘What do you think?'

The girl's one eye blinked, as if she hadn't expected to be asked for an opinion. ‘I don't know. Who is Wiri? And why do you talk about “New Zealand” and “Aotearoa” like they're different places? I mean, what's going on?'

Damien looked at Mat. ‘She doesn't know?'

‘I guess not.' Mat turned to Everalda. ‘I have to tell you some things. They'll sound pretty weird, but no more so than what you've seen in other ways, I suspect.' She met his eyes cautiously and nodded. He spent the next ten minutes telling her about Aotearoa — the Ghost World with its myriad links to this world, its perils and wonders, sights and sensations. She didn't freak and she didn't scoff. In fact, she nodded a lot, as if he were confirming things she already suspected. He then brought her up to date with what had been happening these past few days — the trial and the gaolbreak, and who was who.

He was just finishing when Donna emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, clad only in a towel. ‘Ah, you're still all here then,' she observed lightly. She looked refreshed, but still shockingly tired. Damien's eyes followed her as she walked into the larger of the two bedrooms and shut the door.

‘If you're about to say anything like “She's hot”, then don't,' Mat told Damien firmly.

Damien shook his head. ‘She scares me shitless, man.'

‘Good.'

They ordered in pizzas, really tasty gourmet ones from the nearest pizza shop, and washed them down with lemonade. They didn't really want to talk in front of Donna, who remained silent herself. It was after nine by the time they settled. The women had one bedroom and the boys the other. Mat pitied Evie for having to share with Donna, but at least it was two single beds in each room. He was almost dead on his feet, the blow to his head still aching painfully. The doctor had said ‘concussion', and he knew that could be serious and unpredictable. People could drop dead hours after such blows from undetected brain haemorrhaging. It wasn't a good thought.

‘You still think we should do this?' Damien whispered across the darkened room.

Mat tried to think it through, but he couldn't. His head hurt too much, and he was exhausted. ‘Like we said before, man, we're all wanting the same thing, for once. I don't like it, though. I'd be happier if you stayed out of it, Damien. This could get really dangerous before the end. If something happened to you in Aotearoa, how could I face Riki and Cass?'

Damien's reply was emphatic. ‘No way! I missed out on Rotorua — I'm staying, man!'

‘But—'

‘No buts! I'm in. I've never felt so alive as that night in Waikaremoana. Everything was so vivid, and knowing at any moment that one of those bullets whipping around might
hit, that was the mother of all adrenalin kicks! I think about it all the time, Mat. I want to be here, more than anything else — ever.'

Mat lay back on his pillow, and sighed. It was all too hard. ‘OK. Your call. Let's get some sleep.'

 

Evie laid her head on the pillow, staring across the gloom at the thin blonde woman lying still as a corpse in the other bed. Her mind was whirring as she tried to take in Mat's description of Aotearoa, ghosts and legends walking an alternate New Zealand! It seemed incredible, yet not so. She could almost picture it: Puarata's warlocks stalking that shadow-place, like malevolent spiders; ancient tohungas and wizards and heroes living and breathing, and even interacting with this world; long-dead creatures still alive; dreams playing out in the flesh. It didn't seem quite real to her yet, but seeing would be believing.

And the boy who'd told her all about it loomed large in her mind also. She liked his face, which carried the stamp of both Pakeha and Maori in a pleasing balance. She had sometimes liked to imagine that she herself carried both races in her genes — she had a brown enough face to be part-Maori, and some of the facial characteristics, too — but both her parents were as white as could be. Still, it sometimes amused her to daydream.

She liked Mat's voice, too, his mature demeanour, and the firmness he showed when standing up to Donna. She also liked the glimpse she'd got of his torso as he'd emerged from his shower, though she was trying not to think too hard on
that. She'd had boyfriends since leaving school, but no-one serious. Her Gift gave her heightened awareness of people's motivations, and that wasn't a pretty thing, especially when being chatted up in a bar at midnight.

Donna Kyle frightened her, despite Mat having told her that Donna's powers were currently neutralized somehow — even without those powers, Donna was still an intimidating presence.

Sometime after the bedside clock showed midnight, Evie drifted into a dream. In it she was running through the Victoria Park Market, desperately seeking a safe place, but when she found her booth, Donna was there, waiting to stab a knife through her one good eye.

She woke with a stifled scream in her mouth, blinking at the dim light of dawn.

 

The four of them gathered about the coffee table around seven. All had showered again, so the tiny suite was awash with steam. It felt like there was no privacy, which made the teens feel awkward and tense.

Donna asked Evie to bring her cards out.

‘What is this supposed to achieve?' Mat asked, apparently still trying to find Evie a way out of this. She appreciated his concern, but she wanted in. She wanted her eye back, and Donna and her Gift gone.

Donna raised a hand with splayed fingers, and began counting them off. ‘There are many ways to track. One: by sight, but that isn't possible yet. Two: by scent, but even if we had a bloodhound we couldn't pick up their trail at this stage.
Three: we could do as you suggested and acquire extra eyes, like Kurangaituku's birds. But she is unreliable. Four: modern technology, except that they will be travelling in Aotearoa. Five: logic — appealing but uncertain; one false assumption and we're lost. That leaves us with magic. Normally one would scry — use our inner sight to trace the person we concentrate upon. But that requires greater skill than the person you are tracking. Mat is more adept at fire than Venn or Father, but apart from that they have the advantage.'

She paused, then pointed to Evie. ‘Then there is Everalda. One thing no-one can hide from is the eyes of the world itself. What appears to us as prophecy or fortune-telling is something more. Everalda, when she reads, is channelling all manner of subtle signals and data from the world about her, into a set of symbols that can be interpreted — the cards. All events leave traces. Everalda is one of the few who can see and read them.'

Mat frowned. ‘So you're saying Evie can use her cards to predict where Venn and Grieve are going?'

Everalda noted that Mat had used her nickname. It sounded good on his tongue.

‘More or less, yes,' Donna agreed. ‘Everalda must perform a reading. She has met Venn. I know Father. As I cannot access my own powers to guide and strengthen her, you, Mat, must act as a conduit. Damien will stand watch and ensure that we are not interrupted.' She looked about the circle. ‘No more questions: we must begin.' She extended her hands to either side, towards Mat and Evie.

Damien stood up and went to the tiny kitchen bench, where he could see anyone approaching the door. Evie saw
Mat take Donna's hand reluctantly, but his expression was unchanged. Either he didn't get the rush of impressions she got from touching people, or else he was damping it down. She needed both hands free, so she wiggled to the edge of her seat, and allowed them both to grip her shoulders.

… a wildly tipping car, rolling and hitting a tree … blood and gravel … Donna snarling … A porcelain doll being ripped apart … Mat firing a pistol at a dimly seen shape as a wall of water struck … Donna kneeling at Mat's feet as fire washed all about them …

She clamped down on the images, blocking them out with every little trick she'd managed to glean, breathing hard, gouging her nails into her palms until the visions cleared. She gulped a deep breath of damp air. These two had a complicated history. They'd tried to kill each other, and they'd saved each other, and even now were stepping carefully, hidden motives and emotions tangling into new patterns.

Too much
… She damped down the connection, and focused on the cards.

It took a few moments for her to settle her nerves so that she could begin. She dealt cards, moving intuitively. If someone had asked her what she was doing she wouldn't have been able to say. But a plan was forming. ‘Sebastian Venn,' she said aloud. With utmost reluctance she recalled him on his one visit, his arrogant smarm and creepy hands. Then she added Donna's mental images of the American.

A council room, Venn, Grieve, a dozen others, all dominated by one lordly man. The tohunga makutu: Puarata. A fearsome, terrifying presence who mastered them all.

Her cards began to slap down upon the table, but she closed her good eye to them.

‘Asher Grieve,' she whispered into the silence, and the flow of images from Donna changed.

A lordly man in antiquated robes, peering through a window … A woman thrashing, pinned halfway up a wall by unseen forces … Casual cruelty and impossible choices … A fatal betrayal … Asher pouring fire which Mat Douglas somehow bent away, while Donna knelt at the boy's feet with imploring, naked eyes …

She opened her eyes and gasped.

The cards had lifted from the table, and were spinning through the air in a convoluted three-dimensional pattern. The King and Jack of Spades had slipped from her playing deck, and were spinning towards the northern corner of their little circle, while tarot cards were slowly unfolding … She glimpsed The Lovers and the Knight of Swords spiralling slowly, inverting and righting as they spun, impossible to read, but clearly significant. Death, too, although in tarot Death didn't mean what people thought it did: it was more about change and loss than anything fatal. Initially she struggled, seeing too much, but as she concentrated, it was as if a map of the North Island grew about her feet. The two playing cards, the King and Jack, were winding north …

Mat's and Donna's eyes were wide, their faces turning red as if both were afraid to breathe. Abruptly it was too much. The whole thing was frightening her. She'd never done this, never experienced something so overtly unnatural. She exhaled, and the cards collapsed to the table and floor.

‘Jeez!' exclaimed Damien, goggle-eyed. Even Mat seemed shocked.

‘Did it work, girl?' Donna demanded, leaning forward.

Evie pulled herself from Donna's and Mat's grip, breathing heavily. She felt nauseous suddenly, drained and dizzy. Speaking was an effort. ‘They are going north,' she managed to pant. ‘Perhaps to the Bay of Islands.'

Donna smiled with satisfaction. ‘Then we shall go to there, too.' She looked at Mat, with
I told you so
writ across her face. Evie didn't like it one bit. The woman was corrosive. Impulsively she reached out and took Mat's hand. He glanced at her in surprise.