Cheryl Ntumy - Crowned

I suppose he must have died long ago.

Yes .The Puppetmaster’s tone grows wistful.

He’s the one who taught you how to shape shift?

What makes you think I’m not a natural shifter?

Natural shifters don’t need accessories,I point out, remembering the items I found in the box he left in Ntatemogolo’s house. I deduced that some of them, like the copy of Ntatemogolo’s watch, were used to aid the Puppetmaster in his transformations.

He smiles, pleased as always by my powers of deduction. What a weirdo. Everyone knows the bad guy is supposed to be furious when his enemy figures out one of his secrets, but apparently Johnny here didn’t get that memo.

The next photo is of a pretty woman. Her skin is swarthy and her hair long and black. Is this Mrs Puppetmaster?I sneak a glance at him. The idea of him in love is a little disturbing.

He chuckles. Romance is not something I spent a lot of time pursuing. But she was my lover for a time. She was a gypsy. She taught me a great deal.

I try to stifle it, but I’m impressed. Everything I know about gypsies comes from popular culture and is probably offensive and inaccurate. What was her gift?

Sorcery, like your grandfather.

I flinch. Ntatemogolo has never referred to himself as a sorcerer. He reserves that word for powerful types with great ambitions. He prefers to think of himself as a wise man, in the mould of the wise men in folklore.

The Puppetmaster nods indulgently. Sorcery is an instinctive understanding of the supernatural and an ability to manipulate energy. That is his talent, isn’t it? He calls me sorcerer, but by nature I am just a humble telepath.

Humble?

He laughs again. I wish he’d stop taking my insults so well. He’s enjoying my company, and that knowledge makes me uncomfortable. He knows I’ll sabotage his plans any way I can. He should loathe me. He should spend long hours plotting my demise.

You could kill me if you wanted to.

With ease. I could have killed you the moment you stumbled onto my plans.

My heart is beating so hard my head hurts. I remember that moment. I was at the mall with Wiki and Lebz and I caught sight of five girls with grey, glassy eyes and empty spaces where their thoughts should have been. I had no clue what I’d found, not yet. I didn’t know about the Puppetmaster. All I knew was that those girls were under someone’s control, and I had to stop it.

Why didn’t you?

Killing you would destroy everything. When will you understand? I need you alive and at your best. I have no intention of harming you, and I will take swift and decisive action against anyone who does.

I swallow. Swift and decisive action. I picture a sword swinging through the air and blood splattering, like in Wiki’s anime shows.

This is the last one for today.

I turn my attention to the photo, and it takes me a moment to switch gears. He has just implied that he would hurt anyone who tried to harm me. I stand in front of the photo, too shocked to do anything more than gaze at it in silence. It’s the Puppetmaster in the middle of a transformation. His features are anguished, the edges of his body stretched and distorted.

I clear my throat, knowing he expects a reaction. You learned to shape shift. How?

The answer will come later. The photographs vanish. You can ask three questions.

Why three?

Three is the magic number.

I have a million questions; I don’t even know where to start. Emily’s face floats into my thoughts, and I decide that’s as good a place as any. How do you control Emily?

He heaves an impatient sigh. I don’t. She’s not my prisoner.

But she has powers like she did when you were inside her head. Superhuman strength, super speed… How?

His lip curls. Is that your second question?

No – it’s an addendum to the first.

He smiles. She has tools that give her limited access to certain abilities. As long as she serves me, they are hers to use.

That makes sense, but something else doesn’t. I don’t understand why she’d want to help you after what you did to her.

He lifts his shoulders in a delicate shrug. You’ll have to ask her that.

I take a deep breath. All right. Number two. Why did you take my tooth?

He chuckles. I was waiting for that one. I wanted a keepsake, and a lost milk tooth was something you wouldn’t miss.

Ugh. What a creep. How did you get it? Did you stand around outside my house, looking through the rubbish?

That’s a new question – no more addendums. You might want to use your questions more wisely.

Fine. Number three: what do you know about Henry Marshall’s disappearance?

I know that it happened.

That’s not a proper answer.

I know it happened in the afternoon in a busy shopping area.

Were you involved?

You’re out of questions, my dear. I said three.

That’s not fair! You didn’t tell me everything you know!

You didn’t ask me to tell you everything I know. Frame your questions better.

Arrggghh! This man – this monster – is impossible! He tricked me! I don’t even know why I’m surprised – that’s what he does. At least I know now that he has information on the disappearance. He’s probably behind it. I glare at him, willing to him to display some remorse, but he doesn’t. That would be evidence of a conscience.

I clear my throat. “Whatever your plan is, at some point you’ll no longer be here to keep it going.”

His smile is indulgent. I don’t need to live for ever. I don’t want to live for ever.

Even without the anklet I sense the ring of truth in his words. If he doesn’t intend to be around for all eternity, why is he building an army? What does he think he’ll achieve?

Footsteps sound outside the room and a moment later Emily appears in the doorway. She’s taller, and through her black leggings and shirt I see limbs that are long and toned from all that fence-jumping. She still has that pretty face I remember, but there’s a sly, cynical light in her eyes. She senses my probing and her barrier goes up.

“It’s time,” she says.

The Puppetmaster nods. “Show Conyza out and come to the warehouse.” His voice is the same as I remember, soft and a little high-pitched. He turns to me with a smile. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but I have pressing matters to deal with. I’ll see you soon.

He disappears before I have a chance to ask any more questions. I turn to Emily. I don’t understand this girl at all. The Puppetmaster befriended her pal Amantle under false pretences and gave her a set of bewitched necklaces that placed her clique, including Emily, under his control. He sent them gallivanting around town, pushing them until their bodies almost broke. It took a lot for me and Rakwena to break the spell, and now Emily is right back in the Puppetmaster’s clutches. Her family thinks she’s dead. There’s a tombstone with her name on it and she’s acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.