Читать книгу Unravelled - Cheryl Ntumy S. - Страница 9

Prologue

August 2

The pain wakes him. For a moment he thinks he must have dreamed it, imagined the searing knife between his ribs. He sits up in bed and listens. Nothing. No one. But when he moves to lie down again he feels it, a scalpel of fire under the skin, cutting its way through the ribs to the pumping heart beneath.

He grits his teeth to muffle another cry and tumbles to the floor, the duvet in a tangle around his legs. He knows this pain. He’s felt it before. He has grown to accept the sudden twinges, the split-second stab while he sleeps, the dull, pulling ache that lingers in the background, daring him not to notice. It’s his constant companion. His curse.

But this is different. He rolls on the floor and curls into a foetal position as the pain strikes again, as if it’s trying to pry his chest open. Why? Why now? Something is wrong.

His breath comes in hissing gasps through his teeth. He presses his back against the bed, willing the cool wood to soothe the burning in his body, but it makes little difference. He needs to think. Why is the pull so intense? There must be a reason.

His mother would know, but he can’t ask her. The curse has destroyed her already, turned her once agile and curious mind into a whiteboard streaked with meaningless lines of colour.

He closes his eyes tight as another wave hits him. Think. Think! Dread creeps into his heart as he realises cold logic isn’t going to help him now. He can speculate all night, but what he needs is the truth.

Taking a deep breath, he drags himself to his feet and summons his power. His body begins to glow with blue light in the darkness of the room. He waits, allowing the energy to accumulate until his whole body burns with it – and then he lets go. Instantly his power explodes into chaotic fragments, making his skin crackle with static, shooting into his brain until blinding white spots dance before his eyes. Part of the power regresses into the realm of instinct, the dark shadowy place he has not visited in years. It’s easier than he expected; he feels a pang of shame. It’s as if he’s made no progress at all.

It doesn’t take long for the information to come to him, riding the wave of blue light flooding his veins. No wonder the pull has increased. They’re moving.

He panics, and energy shoots out of his hand and into the floor. The stinging stench of burnt synthetic fibres rises from the singed carpet. They’re moving, and they’re coming for him.

He opens his eyes, trying desperately to suck the power back into his control. He stands there, swaying with shock and horror. He has to do something. He has to stop them! He has come so far, worked so hard to keep the curse at bay, and they are about to ruin everything.

Connie! His heart twists with anguish. He can’t let them near her. He has to find a way… Another wave of pain strikes, wrenching an agonised scream from his throat and sending him toppling to the floor. On the way down his elbow slams hard against the large crystal on his bedside table, knocking the gem over. It lies on the floor beside his writhing figure, glowing blue. Through the haze of pain and panic he hears someone banging on the locked bedroom door.

“Rakwena! Rakwena! Open this door! Rakwena, what happened?”

Just before the last flickers of blue light sink back beneath his skin, he senses further information rising from the shadows. They’re not coming. They’re already here.