LITMIR.BIZ

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      I sigh. “Yes. It’s probably a normal growth spurt. I’m sure it happens to all gifted.”

      “Is that what your grandfather says?”

      I turn to look into Lebz’s eyes and watch them widen.

      “You haven’t told him?”

      “He’s been through a lot! Remember? He came back to find that the Puppetmaster had taken over his life, then they got into a battle and he could have been hurt. He needs time to recuperate.”

      Lebz and Wiki exchange dubious glances. They know Ntatemogolo has been through far worse than a little rumble with the Puppetmaster. I’m not keeping my growth spurt from him for his sake, but for my own. I’m afraid he’ll tell me something’s wrong. I’ve had a month without major drama, and I’m not quite ready for the holiday to end.

      “You have to tell him,” says Wiki. “After everything that’s happened you can’t afford to take these things lightly.”

      “I’ll tell him.”

      “When?” asks Lebz.

      Geez, I should have kept my mouth shut. I understand why they’re worried. Last year the Puppetmaster shape shifted into my grandfather, fooling all of us, while my real grandfather was out of town. If the Puppetmaster could convince me that he was my grandfather for months, it’s logical to assume he can dupe me any time he likes. Logical, but wrong. If he hadn’t fogged my brain with a magic ring I’d have figured out the truth a lot sooner. I’m not as gullible as everyone thinks.

      “I’ll tell him the next time I see him, OK? Now let’s talk about Henry Marshall.” I tell them about the dreams I had the day he vanished. “So far I haven’t found a way to link the disappearance to anything supernatural, but there could be a connection.”

      “Why would gifted be involved?” asks Lebz. “They like to keep a low profile.”

      “I hope they aren’t involved. I think we all agree that gifted criminals are the worst.”

      My friends cringe. The downside of being friends with someone like me is that when trouble comes, it’s usually of the terrifying, can’t-call-the-cops-or-tell-the-parents variety. There are eerie occurrences, dangerous chases and sinister sightings. Maybe a superhuman soldier or two. Definitely a lot of complex cover stories.

      “Speaking of criminals…” Lebz looks at me, her eyes uncertain.

      “The Puppetmaster?” I shake my head. “Nothing yet.”

      “What about Rakwena?”

      “No.” It hurts to say it. I don’t know why he’s taking so long to make contact, but the more time passes the more I think I might never see him again.

      Wiki gives me a significant look. “Don’t you think it’s time you sent him an email? You said he would be inducted into the clan in March. It’s April.”

      “The induction is only the beginning,” I explain. “He has to get settled, get used to everyone…”

      “Stop,” Wiki interjects. “You’re just worried he’ll come running back here to protect you and ruin all the progress he’s made with his cell.”

      He’s right. I know what happens when a drifter cell is incomplete. The drifters get aggressive, temperamental and unpredictable. Now that Rakwena has finally found his place, it would be wrong to tear him away. I’m afraid his brothers would fall apart again. I’m afraid he’d fall apart, too.

      There’s something else I’m afraid of, and it’s such a selfish fear that I’d never admit it to my friends. I try to brush it away, but it keeps slithering back into my head. I’m afraid that even if I tell Rakwena how scared I am, he won’t come back. I know he cares about me, but I’m afraid if it comes down to it the bond he shares with his brothers will trump the bond he shares with me. He’s home, and I’m not sure one measly telepath is enough to bring him back.

      “Connie?” Lebz peers at me. “What is it?”

      “Nothing.” I put on my best smile. “What do you guys want to do today? Movie?”

      Kelly remains out of earshot. She must have put on twelve coats of lipstick by now. Lebz has that look on her face that tells me she wants to say something I’m not going to appreciate, and Wiki has that look that tells me he’s going to intervene before she puts her foot in her mouth.

      “Let’s go out, maybe get some ice cream or something,” he suggests, just as Lebz opens her mouth to speak.

      There’s something wonderful about knowing people so well that you can almost predict their every move – without having to read their minds. “Great idea. You go get Kelly, and I’ll get my bag.” I leap to my feet, relieved by the change of topic, and head to my room.

      The crystal on my desk is dim. Whatever Rakwena’s doing, he’s not thinking of me. I feel a painful pang in my chest. No – I’m not going to pine. I’m going to go out with my friends and enjoy myself. I grab my bag, put on a pair of sneakers and try not to wince at the sight of my sun-starved legs in the mirror. Today I’m not a telepath hung up on a half-drifter who won’t call. I’m just a regular girl. Almost.

      * * *

      I get off work two hours early on Monday. At first I plan to go straight home; my curfew is still seven p.m., though I’m eighteen and should be allowed to come home at a sensible hour like the other grown-ups.

      When I reach the bus rank I change my mind and take a combi to Bontleng to see my grandfather. Ntatemogolo isn’t great at responding to phone calls and messages. My approach is to drop in unannounced and hope for the best. Today it seems I’m just in time; he’s stepping out of his beat-up Toyota Venture when I walk up his street.

      He looks at me in surprise. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

      “They let us go early.” I follow him through the small gate and up to the front door.

      He grunts. He doesn’t think much of my job. He unlocks the door and we step into his house. As always we head straight for the consultation room, the small, dark room where Ntatemogolo does all his unorthodox work. My heart sinks as we sit on the reed mat in the middle of the floor. I pick up an air of disappointment – he has bad news.

      “I’m afraid I have bad news, my girl.”

      Yep, I know what this is about. During his most recent extended trip he found a girl drifter up north in D’Kar. She’s first generation – her parents were not drifters. Unfortunately they both died years ago, so we only have her word and her grandmother’s that they were ordinary, ungifted people.

      As things stand no one has a solid theory about how drifters came to be. Physically they’re like gifted humans, except they’re super-attractive, super-smart and produce a finite amount of psychic energy, far less than other people. They need to conquer – to absorb energy from others – in order to survive.

      Because they exhibit traits similar to both the incubus of gifted lore and the still alive and kicking thokolosi, some people believe they’re a hybrid of the two. The drifters themselves reject that theory, but have nothing to substitute it with. Not yet, anyway.

      Ntatemogolo thinks that drifters, far from being magical creatures, are humans that evolved to address a specific problem – excess negative psychic energy. His research indicates that the earliest drifters were discovered in or near places reeling from trauma that damaged the communal psyche. He believes drifters were born to fix this imbalance by absorbing the excess energy so the traumatised communities could function properly again.

      To prove it, he had to find at least one first-generation drifter. He found Maria. His search kept him away long enough for the Puppetmaster to swoop in and steal his identity. During Ntatemogolo’s first meeting with Maria she wouldn’t reveal much. He told her he’d like to come back and planned to bring me along. She agreed, but now whenever he

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