Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  He pulled a small piece of white card out of his pocket and flicked it. I caught it reflexively. It just had his initials and a phone number on it, nothing else. He tugged on the other glove, his expression blank.

  ‘Call if you need help when you’re out tonight.’

  ‘Wait!’

  He looked at me from beneath dark lashes.

  ‘Which way are you going home?’ I asked, my voice breathy.

  Fynn jammed his helmet on. ‘Gatton Street.’

  ‘Oh.’ I nodded. ‘Good idea. Anderson Street’s always really busy on Saturdays…I hear.’ He didn’t ask why I’d asked, just gave me a level, ironic look.

  The black visor flicked down. He revved the engine. I wrapped my arms around my waist, holding myself together. He roared off down the street without even a wave and disappeared around the corner.

  Tucking the card into my bag, I headed home, disturbed by the whole morning.

  My self-control was slipping too often.

  6

  Did you see that?

 

  Maybe we should consider—

 

  Anna began a careful interrogation as soon as the door to our unit had closed behind me.

  ‘Did Paul find you? He’s nice.’ She cast me a shrewd look as she buttered bread.

  I sat at the table and put together a sub sandwich with the ingredients she’d organised from our rather haphazard fridge selection. It gave me time to think.

  ‘Yes, he found me.’ I focussed on my sandwich. ‘He asked me out tonight. To the movies.’

  She paused with a piece of fetta halfway to her lips. ‘Will you go?’

  I shrugged one shoulder. ‘Kinda have to or he’ll blab about my migraine.’

  ‘Chivalrous!’

  ‘He’s young.’

  ‘Quoth the greybeard,’ Anna said, grinning. Her smile slipped away. ‘What about your witness? Did he see you last night?’

  I considered Fynn again and shook my head. ‘I think…I don’t think he’d say anything, even if he had seen me. But I’m pretty sure he didn’t. I think we’re ok.’ I didn’t tell her about the vision. If he went home by Gatton Street, it wouldn’t come true. My heart stuttered. Should I have said something more direct?

  ‘So, we’re staying?’

  I nodded.

  Anna smiled, the sparkle back in her eyes. ‘I’m so glad. But keep an eye on him, just in case. I’m sure everything will be fine. We’ve been so careful changing names and identities.’ She laughed ruefully. ‘Lucky I own the business, huh? At least I can keep hiring all my alter-egos. I’m sure whoever those people were that caught you in Christchurch and in Japan have lost our trail now.’

  Hopefully she was right.

  ‘But I get to pick the next name,’ I said, pointing a stick of celery at her. ‘You’re getting too predictable with the whole rainbow of colours thing.’

  ‘You just didn’t like Ochre.’

  ‘And there was that, too.’ I smiled at her. ‘It’s a revolting colour and a worse name.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ She watched me through her lashes. ‘Was it Paul? Your witness?’

  ‘No.’ My cheeks burned. ‘Someone else. Another guy from school, named Fynn.’

  She made a mock-impressed face and sipped her orange juice. ‘Two boys at once? From famine to flood, huh? That’s great. I’m going out tonight with Mick and a few others from work, but that’s not an excuse to stay out too late with Paul.’

  ‘You know I won’t.’

  ‘I know, but I’m a mother. I can’t help worrying.’ She gave me a significant glance. ‘It’s not like you’ve done a lot of dating.’

  ‘That,’ I said, ‘I’m aware of. Don’t panic.’ I patted her shoulder condescendingly and grinned. ‘I’ll be safe, I promise. You too.’

  ‘Rowan!’ She pretended shock but her eyes twinkled. ‘Just have fun, ok? You’re too young to worry so much. At least yours is a real date. Mine’ll be all work.’

  I applied myself to the sandwich and listened to her shop-talk with half an ear. In truth, I wasn’t particularly excited about the date, but I couldn’t afford to have him talk about me. When I was young, we’d left too many towns in a hurry because kids at school noticed my strength and speed, no matter how hard I tried to hide.

  And I did have questions for Paul. They hadn’t occurred to me last night, but now my ingrained suspicion re-emerged. How had Paul known where I was? Had he followed me? Co-incidentally been at the same beach? I might be paranoid in thinking these things, but the only way to be sure was to ask him.

  I was also now more certain than ever that Fynn was hiding something; that he knew something about the ocair. What made me so certain was a mystery. But I’d learned to trust my instincts about people. I was usually – depressingly – right.

  The rest of the afternoon Anna and I spent mostly in silence or desultory conversation as we both worked on our laptops, set up at the dining table. The familiarity of her bent head and frowning concentration gave a comforting sense of security. No matter what happened, I’d have her and she’d have me.

  At around three o’clock Anna stretched, yawned, closed her laptop and flopped onto the couch. She flicked on the tv and skimmed the channels. My history assignment on the Viking invasions of Britain complete, I spent half an hour smacking the muk yan jong – the kung fu training dummy I’d found at an op-shop the week before. My hands blurred and the wood cracked ominously. This one wouldn’t last long. They never did. When my hands hurt too much to continue, I grabbed a cold drink from the fridge and joined Anna on the couch.

  Outside, the sun hovered above the rim of the Great Dividing Range that formed a verdant backdrop to Cairns city. The light mellowed, toning down from the blazing insanity that melted mind and matter throughout the middle of the day. Palm trees and pink bougainvillea glowed in the golden-warm, afternoon light unique to North Queensland. It softened everything and made even me consider taking up painting, bad though I was at it.

  Across the road, mothers with small children brought them out to play in the park fringing the shoreline. There wasn’t really a beach here, just vast tidal mudflats. Swimming wasn’t an option, with or without jellyfish. Which explained the enormous, fake beach-pool complex up the other end of town. Mangroves and mudflats weren’t the tropical paradise tourists expected.

  Anna’s restless channel-surfing ceased and she settled on one showing news.

  And our headline again, the cheerful blonde newsreader said, a five car pileup today on Anderson street in central Cairns has claimed the lives of two people. This footage was taken by a tourist who happened to be on site when a truck lost control and rolled into oncoming traffic.

  The drama unfolded. A black truck out of control; a red car; the tearing of metal; a flying ragdoll body. I swore and sprang from the couch. The drink tin crumpled into a solid ball in my palm.

  Ignoring Anna’s worried call, I ran to my room and dug in my bag. By the time I found Fynn’s card and my phone, my fingers shook so badly I could barely dial. It rang just once and he answered.

  ‘You’re ok?’ I asked, breathless. Why did it matter? ‘On the news. There was an accident. You didn’t go down Anderson street?’

  ‘No. Gatton, like I said,’ he replied, his tone curt, almost dismissive.

  ‘I…’ I didn’t know what to say; couldn’t explain my call without sounding like a lunatic.

  ‘Look, I can’t talk now.’ His voice was quiet, practically a whisper. ‘Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow. I’ll tell you what I can about the ocair, and—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me. Meet me tomorrow, same place. But don’t go out with Paul Eisen tonight. Stay at home where you’re safe.’

  ‘But—’ The phone beeped in my ear.

  I called him straight back but it went to voice
mail. And again. What the hell? He did know about the ocair. But how? And what was so dangerous about going out with Paul? After last night I felt safe with him. What right did Fynn have to tell me what to do, anyway? He couldn’t just order me around, hang up and expect me to sit home waiting for him to dole out information. I had no reason to trust his word or obey him.

  I texted him with a demand to pick up the phone. No reply.

  Paul might want me to protect his father’s job, but he hadn’t proven untrustworthy. He hadn’t lied to me, as Fynn had.

  Paul was also arrogant enough that if I didn’t go out with him, he would spread stories about me at school and draw too much attention to my whereabouts. I wasn’t going to leave town until I’d spoken with Logan, so I certainly couldn’t risk my anonymity by standing Paul up.

  ‘Rowan?’ My mother stood in the doorway, sounding worried.

  A strident buzzing made me jump. Anna hurried to the security camera screen by the door.

  ‘It’s Paul. What do you want me to say?’ It was only four-thirty.

  ‘Tell him…’ I swept my thumb across the smooth screen of the phone, over the last number dialled. ‘Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.’ I shut my door and dug frantically for a decent outfit that didn’t need ironing.

  If not for the questions about how Paul found me at the beach, and Fynn’s order to stay home, I probably would have found an excuse to get out of this no matter how long Paul camped on my doorstep. But meeting with Paul was my best chance to be a hundred percent sure we were safe here. If a simple date would close his mouth and keep me out of the limelight, I had to do it. I couldn’t be driven out by something as dumb as teenage gossip, not with the chance of learning about the ocair so close.

  ‘Hey beautiful.’ Paul grinned at me as I emerged from the elevator. ‘How’s the head?’

  I shrugged one shoulder and slipped a thin, grey-green overshirt into my bag in case it got cooler later. I’d had to leave my spare pair of gloves at home. It was one thing to wear them as a quirky fashion statement at school, but just plain weird with a dress and strappy flats. I’d just have to be careful.

  ‘Fine. Thanks. What’s the deal? You’re only like an hour early.’ I held up my watch significantly.

  He chuckled. ‘Thought you might bail. Figured I’d come get you early so you’d have no excuses.’

  ‘Wow. And I thought I had trust issues. So where are we going?’

  ‘My Dad’s having a barbeque,’ he said, then laughed – probably at my horrified expression. ‘Don’t panic. We’re not doing the “meet the parents” thing. Just gotta go home for a sec. Forgot my wallet. Then we’ll grab something to eat and meet up with the others to catch a movie. There’s that Marvel movie on if you’re up for it.’

  Relieved, I agreed. Anything but an interminable evening making smalltalk to adults I didn’t know. A movie was infinitely better and being with his friends would save me talking about myself.

  ‘I thought you were going to see that last night?’

  ‘My Dad pulled me into a stupid meeting. Then I rescued a damsel in distress.’ He sent me a cheeky grin.

  ‘I meant to ask…’ I tried to sound casual as we clung to the shade and headed for his car. The heat radiating off the ground made my skin sticky. The air was thick and heavy with moisture. ‘How’d you find me?’

  Paul shrugged. ‘Wasn’t looking. I was pissed at my Dad and just went to my favourite beach to relax. There you were.’

  Relieved, I laughed back at him. One of my worries lifted, leaving me lighter.

  When we reached his car I paused, admiring it. He owned a convertible Porsche. Silver. Gallantly, he opened the passenger door and waved me in. I slid into the leather seat, trying hard not to be impressed. At the touch of a button, the top retracted.

  He slid in the other side, turned the engine over, revved the accelerator and grinned wickedly. Rebellion spurted inside me again and I returned a nod, tightened my seatbelt and grabbed hold of the armrest. He floored it and the car leapt from a standing start to sixty in about two seconds. I laughed, holding my long wig in place as it twisted into knots. The adrenalin rush hit my blood and I yelled my exuberance, flinging an arm into the air.

  The ride was over too soon. Paul wound his way up into the hills, the prices of the houses most likely going up with every metre as the view improved. At the top of the hill, he pressed a button and a majestic wrought iron gate slowly slid back to reveal an unbelievable house; no, mansion, behind.

  I raised my eyebrows at him. ‘Seriously?’

  Paul laughed, all white teeth, blue eyes and mischief. ‘I did tell you my dad worked at MJE Enterprises.’

  ‘The “at” part of that sentence now seems suspicious.’

  ‘He owns it.’ He grinned. ‘Michael John Eisen Enterprises. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘No.’ I didn’t know what else to say. ‘Well, crap.’

  Here I’d been afraid he was sucking up to me because my mother had the power to fire his dad, and it was the other way around. Relief flooded in, coloured by a hint of cautious excitement. Maybe he did like me just for who I was. I could relax and enjoy the evening. After all, it wasn’t often a girl got taken out in a Porsche. The cautious girl in me asked what Paul would want from me at the end of the evening. The rebel elbowed her aside and urged me to find out.

  He pulled the car up before a massive front double door and jumped out. He ran around and opened the passenger door for me, bowing and holding his hand out. ‘My lady.’

  I hesitated, then took his fingers and clenched my teeth against the expected connection. Nothing happened. I slid out of the car. Brushing at the skirt of my floaty green sun dress, I tried to feel at ease. This sort of place; this sort of money – it spoke of cameras and security records of my face.

  Paul grinned. ‘Don’t worry. If we’re lucky we can sneak in and be gone before they know I’m here.’

  I gently withdrew, not wanting to risk my luck by holding on too long. He didn’t seem to mind. He flexed his arm, picking loose a bandage taped to the inside of the elbow. When he saw me looking he grinned and poked at the small red dot on the skin.

  ‘Dad’s into the health-stuff. He insists we both get blood tests every six months.’

  ‘What for?’

  Paul shrugged. ‘Who the heck knows? His brother died young of some crazy-weird disease. Maybe that’s it. I figure if there’s anything bad he’ll tell me. C’mon. Let’s get in and out of here before anyone sees us.’ He threw the balled-up bandage into a garden bed and strode away, waving me on.

  Instead of going in the front entrance, he led the way around to a smaller door in the side of the house. From there we tiptoed up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor and into a long, marble-floored hallway. A few steps on carried us past a room that made me stop and gape.

  ‘What?’ Paul followed my eyeline. ‘The gym?’

  ‘That’s not a piddly little home gym,’ I blurted, ‘that’s a full sized training facility and dojo!’ I bit my tongue, regretting the hasty words.

  Paul didn’t seem to notice. ‘Yeah, we can come and play some other time when the house isn’t full of Dad’s friends wanting to dump their daughters onto me.’

  The murmur of voices and the clink of glasses and laughter wafted up from the back yard of the property. Soft jazz music floated in. There was a splash, a shout of laughter and a female voice raised in laughing complaint. Apparently someone had gone into the pool. Of course there was a pool. Probably a tennis court, too. And a Jacuzzi.

  Paul ducked into the next room and came back out with his wallet. We ran back downstairs, giggling like kids. At the base, Paul skidded to a halt and I barely avoided crashing into him.

  ‘Who’s your friend?’ A male voice made me peer around Paul’s broad shoulders.

  Paul dragged me forward and introduced us.

  ‘Dad, Meghan. Meghan, Dad. Or rather: Mr Eisen, I suppose.’

  On catching my eye, his father�
�s smile slipped for just a fraction of a second, then switched on again, brighter. His eyes showed a hint thoughtful interest. He held out a hand. I hesitated then grasped it, bracing myself. Nothing.

  ‘Meghan...’ Michael Eisen said musingly, ‘Meghan Greene. You’d be Anna’s daughter then? Call me Mick, please.’

  An image flashed into my head, catching me unprepared: a snapshot of him and my mother locked in an embrace. I clenched my jaw to keep words from spilling free. This was the ‘Mick’ from work my mother had mentioned so often recently. That accounted for the interested inspection. But why had she told him who I was? They’d only known each other two weeks. She wasn’t usually that reckless about my safety. Or had Paul told him?

  I wasn’t comfortable calling him ‘Mick’. It was an easy, friendly nickname and I couldn’t see him that way. He wasn’t an easy, friendly person. He was a Michael, or even a Mr Eisen, formal and distant.

  ‘Nice to meet you, sir. Yes, Anna’s my mother,’ I said, trying to cover my discomfort.

  What did she see in him? Besides the wealth and good looks, of course. His edgy intensity and strength was a far cry from the gentle, patient men my mother was normally attracted to. Maybe she sought security after all the years of uncertainty with me. My heart sank. Of course she did. And why not?

  When he released my hand, I unthinkingly wiped it on my hip.

  Michael’s eyes followed my action, a small crease appearing between his brows for a fraction of a second.

  ‘Your mother is an extraordinary lady,’ he said, after an awkward pause. ‘She certainly keeps a low profile, though. It wasn’t easy finding her.’

  ‘Well.’ I cleared my throat, ‘I hope she’s helping.’

  Michael smiled a hundred watts. ‘Absolutely. Things were a little stale. She’s brought in exactly what I wanted.’

  ‘I’m glad, sir.’ I needed a polite way to end the conversation.

  Luckily, Paul interrupted by grabbing my wrist and dragging me away.

  ‘Gotta go, Dad. Back after the movies.’ He flipped Michael a salute as we dashed out the door.