The Bone Tiki Read Online Free PDF Page A

He sensed his father’s anxiety that he’d embarrass him, and that made him cross.
    ‘I like art,’ he replied, a little defiantly. He felt his father’s hand tense.
    ‘Indeed…’ said Puarata, leaning closer. ‘That is commendable, Wiremu. The imagination is where true power lies. If you can imagine something, you can make it real, don’t you think? Without imagination, we are blind.’
    ‘I guess so…I guess.’
    Puarata reached out a hand, and Mat froze. The fingers that brushed his neck were cold, as they pulled the wooden koru into the light. The chilly eyes narrowed slightly, and the lined faced creased into a sort of smile.
    ‘Did you make this, Wiremu?’
    Mat suppressed an urge to correct the man. Let him call me Wiremu if he wants.
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    Puarata examined it with interest, as though the carving had some special significance. ‘There is power in your art, boy,’ he said softly. ‘I could teach you much. I too am a carver.’
    Mat didn’t know how to reply. The old man straightened.‘Good to meet you, Wiremu.’ He looked at the blonde woman, Donna, waving a hand at Mat as though displaying an especially good exhibit. ‘An excellent young man,’ he declared. ‘We must talk more, later.’
    Donna didn’t even look at Mat, but she scowled, and Tama’s hand was still tight on his shoulder. Puarata flexed his hands, and the smile left his face abruptly.
    ‘Come. I wish to pay respects to my old friend Wai-aroha. ’
    He turned and strode toward the whare, trailed by Donna and a pair of black-suited bodyguards. Mat stood numbly, and barely heard his father bend to his ear and whisper, ‘Off you go. I’m going to be busy for a while—go and get some food.’ Then he hurried after Puarata.
    Mat stood a moment, and slowly let out his breath. Tama hadn’t even mentioned the wooden koru. Didn’t he care that Mat had taken it? He seemed like a stranger, a puppet dressed in his father’s flesh. A puppet whose strings Puarata held. His lips trembled slightly.
    Riki appeared at his side.
    ‘That is one scary dude, bro. What did he say to you?’
    Mat shrugged. ‘He asked about school.’
    ‘School?’
    ‘Yeah.’ Mat frowned. ‘Dunno why.’ He put his hand into his pocket and felt the tiki. It was oddly hot to touch. ‘C’mon, let’s go.’
    ‘Go where, man?’
    ‘Come on!’ Mat walked toward the whare, then stopped when he saw two burly bodyguards waiting outside. Theothers must have gone in. People had gathered again to watch and listen, but seemed intimidated; even the gang-members were hanging back. But his father, and these menacing new arrivals, had all gone inside, where Nanny Wai lay, her neck now empty of the tiki. Mat fingered the ornament in his pocket, and felt a surge of fear. What would happen when they found the tiki was gone? He hurried toward the crowd, Riki trailing behind.

3
The tiki
    M at scurried around the back of the crowd, and up the side of the whare runanga, leaving behind the crowd of people at the front. Riki followed, a puzzled look on his face. They slipped in a back door, into a storeroom. He tried the handle. There was no one around, and the sun chose this moment to kiss the hill-tops. It would be dark in minutes. Shadows leapt from every corner of the building. The pale green paint of the door was peeling and the handle was rusty, but it opened quietly. Riki pulled it closed behind them as Mat pressed his ear to the opposite door. He put a finger to his lips, as Puarata’s voice rolled through the walls…
    ‘I have come to pay my respects to my old friend, Wai-aroha. ’
    Aunty Hine answered in a voice Mat had never heard,clear and strong. ‘Wai-aroha would not have welcomed you, Puarata.’
    ‘Perhaps. But grief brings people together.’
    Mat pressed an eye to the keyhole. The main hall of the whare lay beyond the door. His view wasn’t good. The keyhole was small and the light in the hall was dim. The table with the silhouette of Nanny