The Lost Tohunga

by David Hair

  Mat was going hard out on some algebra, so Cassandra left him to it. ‘Thanks, Neil; catch you later,’ she heard Colleen say, and glimpsed her pecking the man on the lips before he left via the back door.

  Cassandra slipped into the kitchen. ‘Can I help with the groceries?’

  ‘I’m fine, Cass,’ she replied in her lovely Irish lilt. ‘But a coffee would be grand.’

  ‘Okay.’ Cassandra organized some cups, and filled a plunger with some ground coffee. She had taken to coffee herself this last year, black and sweet. Dad had a cool espresso machine.

  Colleen stacked her shelves, eyeing Cassandra up. ‘You know,’ she commented, ‘when I was your age, I was a little punkette, and only dressed in black leathers.’

  Cassandra grinned. She couldn’t picture it. ‘Nah!’

  ‘Oh, ’tis true. I can show you.’ Colleen lifted a finger. ‘Wait here!’ She was back with an old photo album a minute later. She flicked it open to some Polaroids of white-faced teens wrapped around each other in close-knit presses. ‘There!’

  Cassandra peered at a skinny girl with vivid red hair swept up in a wind-tunnel ’eighties style, clad in skimpy Goth-like leathers and fishnets. Her face was dead white with violent red lipstick, and she was smoking and drinking. The boy she was draped over had a Mohawk and pierced lips. ‘Wow!’ she breathed.

  ‘Total tramp, huh?’ Colleen smirked. ‘I was into The Cure and The Mission, and drank like a fish.’

  Cassandra flicked over a few sheets of posing teen Goths, and then suddenly there was a serious-looking redheaded girl in a ball gown on the arm of a young Maori in a tuxedo. ‘Wow! You just changed your look overnight!’

  Colleen nodded, her eyes faraway. ‘Yeah. I met Tama at a bar, and he was fun to talk to, and I really liked him. He never said so, but I could tell he thought I was nice enough, but too freaky to actually date.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  Colleen looked at the roof wistfully. ‘I dropped everything. The look, the crowd I hung with, the works.’

  Cassandra felt offended at the thought. ‘You just changed everything for a guy?’

  Colleen laughed softly. ‘It was more complex than that. It was the last year at teacher’s college that I could mess around before it got serious. There were standards of appearance required. I wouldn’t have been allowed to carry on as I was and still graduate. And the drugs and the drink were hurting my results. I needed to grow up. Meeting Tama was the catalyst.’

  ‘Did you miss it?’

  Colleen laughed. ‘Oh, heavens, no! The next few years were the happiest of my life. Tama and I fell madly in love, we both graduated and set up a life together. It was grand!’ She smiled sadly. ‘Although I still can’t listen to “Friday I’m In Love” without wanting to suck on a clove cigarette!’

  Cassandra looked at her warily. ‘Are you trying to tell me something, Mrs O’Connor?’ she asked suspiciously.

  Colleen blushed, just like Mat when he was caught out. ‘No! Well … I do see a little of myself in you.’

  ‘I’m totally happy,’ Cassandra told her, gently but firmly. ‘And I don’t need any fashion advice.’

  ‘Oh, I know, dear.’ Colleen looked at her thoughtfully. ‘When are those braces due off?’

  ‘First week back at school!’ she replied, brightening. ‘It’s been three years. I was a chronic thumb-sucker,’ she admitted.

  ‘Hmmm. What are you doing tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, Neil is an orthodontist, and I’m sure two weeks isn’t going to make too much difference. Shall I give him a call?’

  ‘Could you?’ Her eyes went wide. ‘Really?’

  Colleen smiled. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’

  Tuesday morning

  Jones was waiting for Mat in the real world, under the willows on the lakefront, puffing his pipe. Mat’s ribs felt twice as stiff and sore as yesterday, a fact he wasn’t slow to mention to Jones. ‘Well, we’ll see, laddie. That poultice may not be recognized by modern medicine, but it’s never let me down.’

  The old man was wearing a long coat and he had his sword buckled on, a flintlock pistol in his belt. The walking stick he was leaning on was iron-shod. ‘Are you expecting trouble?’ Mat asked.

  Jones frowned. ‘There’s a little too much going on to wander about unarmed right now. Godfrey is nervous, which makes me edgy, too.’ He looked about. ‘Anyway, that’s not why I met you halfway. I just want to let you know something important.’ Mat put on his most attentive face, wondering what it was. Jones’s face was as serious as he had seen him. ‘Mat, Hine is not an ordinary person. I know you’re quite taken with her, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up in her direction. She’s been through a bad time. She needs to get herself together, not start a new entanglement. Are you hearing me?’

  Mat sucked on his lower lip. I only want to talk to her, he wanted to protest. ‘I guess …’

  Jones twirled his walking stick at a dandelion head. ‘There is something you need to know about her. But you must never tell her what I’m going to tell you.’

  Mat nodded, surprised. ‘I promise.’

  ‘One of the quirks of Aotearoa is that sometimes it throws up some strange things that are reflected in the real world, instead of the other way around. I call it the “avatar phenomenon”. In mythology, an avatar is the shape that a god takes when on earth. Sometimes a person is born in the real world who is an embodiment of a mythic being. Hine is like that. She is associated with Hinemoa, the legendary woman who swam to Mokoia Island on Lake Rotorua to be with her lover, Tutanekai. Hine dreams of water, has nightmares of water, thinks of things in terms of water, tries to act like water even — to flow about obstacles instead of confronting them. Water is tied to her destiny. I’ve met three other Hinemoa-avatars. They all looked exactly like Hine, and were born in Rotorua.’

  ‘Are you saying that she’s not a real person?’

  ‘Goodness, no! She is as real as you or me. But she is also Hinemoa, the embodiment of a legend, and one day, that part of her will claim her. It is a type of destiny.’

  ‘Am I an avatar too?’ Mat asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

  ‘No, lad. You’re an Adept, someone born with the abilities to manipulate the fabric of the two worlds. You’re like me.’

  ‘So are you saying that because of this “avatar” thing, I can’t be … um, friends with her?’

  Jones shook his head. ‘Think about the Hinemoa legend, boyo. In it, she swims Lake Rotorua to meet her lover, Tutanekai. His role in the tale is as crucial as hers. Somewhere out there, Tutanekai is waiting to meet her. Her destined lover, the only man who can make her happy.’

  Mat felt his tiny half-formed hopes wither away. Aotearoa seemed needlessly cruel just now. He had been looking forward to seeing her. Her kiss still played on his cheek, and had kept his mind straying all through the maths homework, and through the night.

  Hine was waiting on the veranda, smoking. She was wearing her own clothes, including the oversized hoodie. Mat wondered if Jones would try to nag her to stop smoking. She had a very serious, faraway look in her eyes, but when she met Mat’s eyes, a slow smile blossomed on her lips. He wondered if Jones had warned her off him, too. He smiled back, and the world seemed to shrink to just him and her.

  ‘Hi, Mat. Uh, where’s Fre— uh, Cassandra?’

  ‘She’s off doing something with my mum,’ Mat replied. He found himself looking at her differently, looking for signs of her ‘avatar’ status. How could you tell?

  Jones coughed for attention. ‘You, milady, have some floors to sweep, I believe? Mat, you need that poultice changed.’ Jones bullied them apart, muttering to Mat: ‘You’re not going to make this easy on yourself, are you?’

  Beneath the strapping, Mat’s ribs were yellow and purple, as if a huge bunch of violets were flowering beneath his skin. Jones looked pleased, saying that the poultice had accelerated the healing process, and he set about boiling up ano
ther one.

  After the new poultice was bound on, warm and damp against his skin, Mat went out the back to see what Hine was doing. He heard her singing a pop song as she churned the laundry in soapy water. ‘Crappy old pile of junk,’ she muttered, looking up at Mat. ‘It’s like being on an old-time movie set. I can’t wait to get back to dishwashers and television.’ She eyed Mat up. ‘I guess Jones must’ve told you about me?’

  ‘A little,’ he replied, not sure what she meant.

  She leant against the door. ‘I ran away from home, cos my stepfather … well, anyway, I ended up living with Evan … Now I’m running away from him, too. So, I didn’t really get to be a teenager — not like you,’ Hine told him, her tones slightly resentful. ‘All the people I know are like me. Runaways and from broken homes, life in the shit lane. Never had money, left school young. I don’t know much about anything, really, ’cept being kicked around.’ Her voice almost cracked, but her eyes were dry and watching him. ‘I think you’re really sweet,’ she said. ‘But you’re just a kid, really. I like you, but we ain’t even from the same planet.’

  You don’t cut corners, do you? ‘Sure. That’s cool,’ he replied as nonchalantly as he could. He told himself he already knew all this. He just wished it wasn’t so, because when she forgot about being a tough gang girl, she was really nice. ‘You should stay here with Jones. He won’t hit on you, and he’ll look after you. No-one can reach you here.’

  She gave a small, bitter laugh. ‘I can’t stay in this backwater. I mean, Jones is nice an’ all, but I’m a city girl. I gotta have people round. I’d go nuts here.’

  ‘But there’s Taupo — I mean, the Taupo here in Aotearoa. Taupo-nui-a-Tia. Soldiers come through, and the local tribe. And … well, I’ll be round every few months.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t wanna live in a bloody pa, or settler village. I want movies and TV an’ stuff. I gotta learn some skills, get a job.’ She looked about her. ‘This is like that Neverland place. You can visit, but you can’t live here. Well, I can’t.’

  ‘But here is the only place where you can learn this.’ Mat held up his hand. It was an impulse, and he wasn’t sure it was a good one. He had become suddenly worried at never seeing her again. Or maybe he just wanted to impress her. He let a small tongue of fire burst from his palm, a pale red-yellow tongue that hovered above his hand, warm but not burning.

  She gasped and backed away.

  ‘You want to learn how to do this?’ he asked her. ‘Maybe you could, like me. This is the only place I know where you can learn how.’

  Her mouth was wide as her eyes as she backed out the door, then turned and fled.

  Oh, hell …

  Finally, Jones came out. He sat down beside Mat, and ruffled God’s fur. ‘Maybe you want to stay away for a couple of days, lad. She’s a bit “freaked out” or so she says.’

  ‘I’m sorry. That was really dumb.’

  Jones pursed his lips. ‘Aye, it was, boyo. She’s scared, and dealing with too much at once. Abusive boyfriends and leaving home are no picnic. Alternate realities, demon possessions and boys who can conjure fire — well, that’s way too far. She’s resilient but she needs rest, or she’s going to go backwards fast and we’ll be dealing with a nervous breakdown. So, let’s just tread carefully, okay?’

  Mat put his head in his hands. ‘But she’s one of us! She has to stay!’

  ‘No, she doesn’t have to do anything. And avatars are not Adepts — there is no saying what she can and can’t do! She might have the potential, if trained. Or not. Some do, some don’t. I’m just going to listen a lot, talk some, and then give her some choices.’

  Mat exhaled guiltily. ‘Sorry. I hope I haven’t messed things up too much.’

  ‘Remember what we said before, Mat: she’s not for you. I know you want to meet the perfect girl, like any teen. Be patient! Learn from the Lena experience! The universe provides, if you give it time.’

  They walked back through the house, and out the front door. As he was going, Hine slipped through the door, red-eyed and fragile-looking. ‘See ya,’ she said, and put her arms around his shoulders, pressing her cheek to his. ‘See you in a few days.’

  He hugged her back, then reluctantly disentangled himself. He backed away, his eyes only on her.

  Suddenly he was flailing for balance as he tipped off the veranda, landing on his backside in the long grass. The two goats peered in bemusement, while Hine giggled, then bent over and roared. Jones joined in, with a burst of throaty guffaws. Mat tried to be cross and failed, and soon all three of them were laughing so loud the clearing echoed. The strapping about his ribs hurt, and he was reduced to clutching his sides in pain.

  Eventually he clambered to his feet, and bowed. ‘Thank you; you’ve been a wonderful audience. Good night, and good luck!’ He bowed again, and walked away, feeling both foolish and good at once.

  Roadhawks

  Tuesday afternoon

  Evan Tomoana,’ said the big man opposite him on the bench, his deep resonant tones rumbling from a wide belly, muscle turning to fat. ‘Or “Parukau” if you prefer, although I remember your mother as white, and I never knew your father at all.’ He sipped his beer, watching Parukau carefully. ‘Tell me why I should listen to you. You ain’t a patched member. You’re nobody to us.’

  Parukau leant closer, nibbling battered fish and sipping a beer. To all the world, it could have been a meeting of friends, just another gathering in a back yard in Taupo, enjoying some late afternoon sunshine after the overnight rain, a gentle northerly stirring the trees and breathing warmer air over the volcanic plateau. There were fish and chips laid out, and beers aplenty. They were behind a tidy four-bedroom house in west Taupo, Acacia Bay, amidst the holiday homes of the wealthy. The setting was private and unpretentious, with children’s play equipment scattered about the lawn. But the undercurrents of threat were tangible.

  The night before, the cops had come past, claiming Hine had vanished. Parukau couldn’t trace her, even using scrying spells. He was beginning to feel perturbed. But he had pushed ahead, setting up this meeting to gain extra hands. Ronnie and Brutal and Deano were eating greasies at another table, watched by seven rough-looking men in filthy black leathers with Roadhawks Taupo emblazoned on the back, and a hawk head wearing a Roman legionary helmet.

  The Roadhawks were one of the motorcycle gangs, modelled on the American biker gangs, that had proliferated in the ’sixties. The Roadhawks only rode Nortons. Its membership included Pakeha, Maori, Pacific Islanders and Asians, and was notoriously criminal. Given the smallness of New Zealand, they could never aspire to the sheer size and aura of overseas equivalents like the American Hells Angels. They were only minor players, but players nevertheless. The Roadhawks were notorious for rumours that escalating levels of petty and violent crime culminating in rape were required of gang prospects, although their leadership denied it.

  The man opposite Parukau was one such leader. Robert Heke, like many of the early leaders, was pushing sixty now, with an affable smile and a rumbling laugh. Even with the gang patch on, he looked like somebody one could trust. But he had done time for killing a man — the charge had been reduced to manslaughter on appeal. He didn’t have to break laws now: he had troops to get their hands dirty for him. He had a pretty young wife and a new child, to go with three children from earlier marriages. His second son, Arama, was among the seven Roadhawks present. Heke was the number two here in Taupo. He was considered ‘old school’ when it came to settling grievances.

  Parukau waved a hand. ‘I’ve got a plan; I need some muscle to help me out. I know you’ve got muscle, and I thought that it could be mutually profitable.’

  Heke half-smiled. ‘A plan? From the likes of you? When is the last time you made a plan, Evan “Parukau” Tomoana? I hear your plans don’t run much past dealing pot to tourists and playing with that pretty little woman of yours.’ It was Heke’s way of saying that he knew where Evan lived, how he made his money, and how to
get at someone he cared about. Which might have worked if Heke had actually been talking to the real Evan Tomoana.

  ‘Do you know the name “Ranginui Puarata”?’ said Parukau quietly.

  Heke’s eyes widened, then quickly narrowed. He took a slow swallow of beer. ‘I hear he’s dead. What does the likes of you know about Puarata?’

  Or, indeed, the likes of you, Heke? Puarata had dealt a whole way further up the food chain than Heke, and when Puarata recruited muscle, it wasn’t from among undisciplined gang members. Puarata went for ex-army, and got fighters a whole lot scarier than anyone Heke had, however tough they walked and talked. Parukau kept his face expressionless, though. ‘They say he was rich, and that his old inner circle are fighting among themselves to claim it all. A secret war. Have you heard of Sebastian Venn?’

  Heke frowned. ‘Of course. But Venn is nothing to do with us. The Hawks don’t deal with Puarata, or Venn, or any of that organization. What has this is to do with you, Tomoana? All you’ve told me is that you know names that it isn’t good to know.’

  ‘Sunday night, I got some cell time with an old man, a geezer who’d hiked in from the Ureweras. He was pretty sick, and died in the cell after we talked. He told me that he’d broken into Venn’s HQ at Waikaremoana, and learned where old Puarata kept his secret stash. Gold, art, antiques, money … anything you can think of.’

  ‘He told you that? Why would he talk to you?’

  Parukau shrugged. ‘I think his mind was going. He thought I was someone else. I just played along, teased it out of him. Wasn’t hard. An’ then he died.’ He chuckled.

  Heke looked unimpressed. ‘So where is it? What’s it worth? And why come to me?’

  Parukau feigned hesitation, then finally said. ‘Well, it’s in Rotorua. Old guy reckoned it was worth more than twenty million.’ He took another sip of beer. ‘We need muscle because the old guy says Puarata has men safeguarding it; men loyal to him and not to Venn or any of his other old lieutenants.’