Hidden Fire

by Alexis Fleming

  “Think you’d be right, Missy Gili. Right now, that wing is brushing up and down your neck.” He chuckled and trailed his finger across her neck. “Shame we haven’t got a mirror out here. Then you could see where it has moved to. I’d say the Creator is protecting you.”

  She clamped a hand on her neck, conscious of the fluttering of the bird’s wing under her palm. “It’s nothing but ink, for crying out loud.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Nope, that there’s the Creator in his pelican form. Those spirits pretty damn smart; they knew you were the right one.”

  Whistling, Charlie wandered off, leaving Gili reeling. With a shake of her head, she tried to assimilate Charlie’s comments. She could no longer deny the paranormal elements of everything that had happened, right back to when she’d had the pelican inked on her shoulder at the age of sixteen.

  Spirits made of smoke and mist, tattoos that came alive, fire in a stone—albeit a precious gemstone—and a destiny she’d known nothing about before she’d arrived in Opalton. Not that she knew a lot more now.

  “Freakin’ hell,” she whispered. “If I wasn’t living it, I’d think this was some bizarre dream. And with Whitey and Jeremy hanging around, how is it all going to end?”

  Panic surged through her, sinking like a lump of lead to the pit of her stomach. Without thinking, she clenched both hands into tight fists. A sharp jab of pain lanced her palm.

  “Ouch.” She lifted one fist and stared at it. Heat, far greater than before, radiated from her fingers. In an instinctive reaction, she opened her hand to expose the sliver of gemstone.

  She tried to drop it onto the ground, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. She held her palm flat and the opal spun like the needle of a compass. When it stopped, it was pointing directly at the opening of the mine.

  Raising her eyebrows, she shook her head in wonder. “Hmm, maybe Piri knows something I don’t.”

  With a resigned shrug, she followed the silent directions and headed into the mine. The instant she entered, the opal on her palm did its compass imitation and angled towards the tunnel where she’d found the pelican rock painting.

  “Well, how about that? The darn thing does know where to go.”

  The whole area lit up with alternating flashes of green, blue, pink and red. As Gili stepped out, intent on retracing her steps from yesterday, the brilliantly-colored phenomenon went with her, lighting her way through the dim passage.

  Once she reached the right spot, the heat disappeared from the opal, but the lightshow remained. With the tattoo prickling on her shoulder, she stared at the rock painting. “So what are you trying to tell me, little bird?”

  In the distance, she heard the mournful sound of the didgeridoo. It grew louder, surrounding her until it invaded her bloodstream.

  Heat skipped along her veins, shooting her body temperature higher. Droplets of sweat sprang to life on her forehead and formed little rivulets as they rolled down her face. They continued their journey, down her neck and across her chest, until the tiny trails of moisture gathered between her breasts. Despite the fire in her blood, Gili shivered at the sensation.

  Her heart raced. A beetle scrabbled in the soil near her feet and she heard it clearly. She sensed the tunnel settling around her, as if it breathed a great sigh. Wisps of ethereal white smoke appeared above her head, dancing and spinning, twisting together before separating again as if in the throes of a sensual dance.

  Gili smiled. For some reason she felt as if she had come home. The spirits welcomed her. They lightened her heart and heightened her senses.

  Turning, she followed the direction the pelican painting indicated. With the flickering lights of the opal fire, the darkness of the tunnel was no barrier.

  She turned left into a new passageway, trailing her fingers over another painting on the rock surface—a bright pelican to show the way.

  She’d taken no more than a half dozen steps down the passage when she ground to a halt with a disappointed groan. Part of the tunnel had collapsed, blocking the way.

  Frowning, she stared at the landslide. Parts of the blockage looked old. The dirt around the rocks was hard-packed. Other areas looked new, the soil fresh, pebbles and boulders loose, as if it had only just occurred.

  Not certain what it meant, she nonetheless had to find a way through because that was where the slither of opal pointed. Tucking the fragment into her back pocket, she started to climb up the cave-in. Loose rocks and pebbles rolled under her feet. Dust rose, clogging her mouth and making her cough. With every few inches she achieved, she slid backwards at least a dozen.

  Okay, there had to be some other way to do this. She tried again, and managed to pull herself up until she’d gained a good three feet. Then she dug her boots into the soil and clawed at the blockage. Sandstone rocks, wrapped in dusty red soil, rolled down the rock fall. Gili kept the momentum going by assisting the bigger boulders on their way.

  Within a short space of time, the cloying red dust filled the tunnel. It coated her body and stifled her breathing. The twisting, turning beams of opal light struggled to find a way through the cloud, fighting to keep the area illuminated for her.

  Gili sagged against a particularly big boulder. This wasn’t helping at all. She might be able to move some of it, but no way could she clear the whole thing.

  Damn, she felt so close. If she couldn’t move it, maybe she could find a way around it—another tunnel that bisected this one. There was only one way to find out.

  Slipping and sliding, she crawled down the rock fall and backtracked to where she’d entered the tunnel. The opal lights came with her, her constant companion. Suddenly, she heard a slight sound. She paused, back pressed against the rock wall, mindful of Jeremy and Whitey being in the area. With breath held, she waited.

  Another slither of a shoe on loose pebbles and a small figure stepped into view, coming from the direction of the main cave where Gili and Morgan had camped. Gili released her breath on a loud whoosh, sagging against the wall.

  “Piri, what on earth are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

  “Can you hear it calling, Missy Gili? Tonight is the full moon. Two halves must again be whole.”

  She squatted in front of the child, her head turned as she listened. The didgeridoo was a soft drone in the background, a backdrop for the buzz of what seemed like a thousand whispers. Perhaps the spirits of the old people, those who’d first discovered the Dreamtime Fire.

  Fanciful imagination maybe, but Gili had a feeling Piri, that miniature font of such adult wisdom, may well be right. Just the same, she’d be happier if he was safely with his grandparents and the others in the Aboriginal village.

  “You need to go back to Nan and Pa, sweetie. It’s very easy to get lost inside a mine. There are so many tunnels, if you take the wrong one we might never find you.”

  He looked at her a moment before his face lost the sombre look and he flashed a smile at her. “Okay, Missy Gili, I’ll go and find Nan and Pa.”

  She waited until he disappeared down the tunnel before turning to her right and entering another opening, this one running parallel to the blocked site.

  A good thirty minutes later and the frustration had set in. Gili sighed and rubbed her dirty hands on the back of her shorts. She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to stop the feeling of pins and needles in the tattooed area. It had been alternating between hot and cold for the last ten minutes or so. Guess it was time to listen to what her inked friend was telling her. Namely, she wasn’t about to find an entrance to the blocked tunnel from here.

  Turning on her heels, she retrieved the slither of opal from her pocket and holding it in her palm, started back the way she’d come. The opal heated up and emitted the occasional flash of blue and green. Kind of like a strobe light.

  She’d covered about half the distance when she heard an ominous rumbling. It rolled through the tunnels and made goose bumps break out on Gili’s arms.

  “Cave-in,” she whispered and starte
d to run. Another sound—this one even more spine-chilling—a child screaming as if in pain. “Piri.”

  With her heart pounding, Gili tore down the tunnel. When she got to the end, she paused, not certain which way to go. The earth still rumbled. Dust filled the air and clogged her throat. She swallowed and opened her mouth to call out to Piri.

  “Let go, let me go.” Piri’s voice echoed through the mine, coming from the blocked passage.

  The sound of rocks being moved or tossed aside filtered through the dusty air. The grunt of men. The childish treble of Charlie’s grandson.

  Dear God, not Piri.

  Determination surged through her, giving her a speed she didn’t know she was capable of. She sprinted down the tunnel on the right, skidding to a halt when she came to the cave-in. Only now, it wasn’t a solid wall of rocks. Debris from the rock fall littered the area, and about halfway up, Gili spotted an opening lit by a yellow glow. An opening big enough an adult could fit through.

  Without a second thought, Gili clambered up the rocks and crawled through, dropping down to the other side. The first thing that caught her eye was another rock painting of a pelican, the largest she’d yet seen.

  Piri stood in front of it, his right hand buried in a niche he’d discovered under the pelican’s beak. Flashes of blue and green, mixed in with brilliant crimson, leaked out around his tiny hand.

  It was the man holding Piri’s other arm that made Gili see red.

  Jeremy Grissom.

  He still wore his dark trousers and business shirt, although he’d shed the suit coat, probably in deference to the harsh heat of this area. The white shirt was less than pristine, covered in the red dust of the Australian outback. He’d rolled the long sleeves up to his elbows and somewhere along the way had ditched the tie and opened the top buttons of the shirt.

  An unlit, partially-smoked cigar hung from the corner of his mouth. Sweat covered his forehead and ran in dirty lines down his face. Hair fell over his forehead, but did nothing to hide the malevolence in his eyes and the ugly twist to his mouth.

  “Give it here, you little snot,” Jeremy growled around the cigar clamped between his teeth as he yanked on the boy’s arm. When Piri shook his head, Jeremy reached out and slapped him on the face. Piri’s eyes filled with tears, but he continued to defy Jeremy.

  “Leave him alone, you bastard.” Gili threw herself at Jeremy and grabbing the back of his shirt, tried to drag him away. At the same time, she beat him about the head with a clenched fist.

  Jeremy spun around at her attack. Piri came, too, his arm still trapped in Jeremy’s beefy hand. In his other hand, he clutched a fragment of rock. About the size of an egg, the fractured end of the rock radiated fire that created a glow of color around Piri’s fingers.

  The Dreamtime Fire. And from the look of it, the female half of the precious gem—The Fire.

  Gili processed the information in an instant. There wasn’t time for anything else because Jeremy had turned on Piri again, his arm raised to hit the boy. Gili wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “It’s bad enough you blackmail me into kowtowing to your demands,” she spat out through gritted teeth. “You’re not going to put your dirty mark on that kid.”

  She renewed her efforts, going in boots and all. She kicked, scratched, punched, and threw her weight against him in an effort to get him to let go of Piri.

  Anger surged, making her heart pound—driving through her body until she knew no fear. Only the desperate need to free the boy from Jeremy’s clutches.

  “Let him go.” She clawed at his face, only to have him backhand her.

  She fell back a pace, face stinging, ears ringing. A ribbon of blood trickled down from a tear in her lip, caused by the chunky gold ring Jeremy wore on his finger. A ring Gili recognized. Heavy gold with a blood-red oval stone with raised markings set into the front of the ring. The same ring he’d stolen from Morgan’s dig.

  “Get out of here, bitch. I don’t need you any longer. Looks like the kid can give me what I want.” Jeremy spat out the cigar and curled his lips in a macabre grin as he levelled another backhander at her.

  “Run, Missy Gili,” Piri screamed. “Get Morgan.”

  “Shut up, you little sod.” Jeremy twisted Piri around and wrapped his arm about the child’s throat. Then he wrenched the flashing opal from Piri’s hand, holding it aloft. “Hah, got it.”

  He shoved Piri and the boy went flying into the wall of the tunnel, loose rocks tumbling about him. After a quick glimpse to check that Piri was okay, Gili launched herself at Jeremy again, not about to let him escape with the sacred object that meant so much to Charlie’s tribe.

  Suddenly, Gili’s thoughts were perfectly clear when it came to the Dreamtime Fire. Nobody, but nobody, and that included her, had the right to remove the precious opal. It belonged here in this mine. It belonged to the land. It belonged to the people connected to the land by myths and legends, by their very birthright. And she’d be damned if she’d let Jeremy and his psychotic offspring take it away.

  “You not getting away with it this time, Jeremy,” she panted through throbbing lips as she punched out at him.

  “Get her, Whitey.” Jeremy gave Gili a spiteful glance, grabbed Piri’s arm again and pulled him away.

  A sliding, slithering sound came from behind Gili, but before she could turn around something hit her on the back of the head, hard enough that darkness edged the periphery of her vision.

  The conscious world dimmed. She felt herself falling and there was nothing she could do as the dark rushed in. Her last thought before her senses scattered was for Charlie’s grandson.

  Dear God, if you’ve ever listened to me before, please listen to me now. Don’t let them hurt that little boy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hands on his hips and feet braced apart, Morgan stood on the top of the highest mullock heap he could find. He let his gaze roam over the site, across the Aboriginal village, and back to the entrance to the mine.

  The children had gathered in the centre of the village under the watchful eye of the accompanying adults. From here, he could see Narri running a head count. Outside the confines of the camp, his men, those who lived on the station, did a thorough search.

  Finally, John trotted up to him. “No sign of any strangers, Boss, although there’s a deserted vehicle parked up the road under a group of Stringy Bark trees. No one seems to know whose it is. It’s a rental so odds on it belongs to these two guys you want found.”

  Morgan swore under his breath before he clambered down from the mullock heap. “Okay, keep your eyes open. And place guards around the site tonight. Oh, and send one of the lads to stand guard outside the mine now.”

  John sketched him a salute. “Will do, Boss.”

  Before Morgan could say anything else, Narri yelled for him from the village. He jogged across to her. “What’s the problem, Narri?”

  “Piri’s missing. I can’t find him anywhere.” She wrung her hands together and tears overflowed from her eyes. “He knows better than to wander off. Maybe he’s with Missy Gili. I can’t find her either.”

  Morgan felt as if his heart had stopped. A lump of pure dread settled deep in his stomach. Ever since Piri’s mother had died, and Charlie had brought the baby back to the station, Morgan had watched over Piri. Had helped raise him. Piri was like a little brother to him. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to him.

  Anger whipped through him at the thought that maybe Jeremy had taken Piri. God help the man if he had, because Morgan wasn’t certain he’d be able to contain himself if Jeremy hurt him.

  Another thought intruded. What if Jeremy and his son were hiding in the mine? Maybe that’s why the men hadn’t been able to find any sign of them.

  He grasped Narri’s hands. “When did you last see him?”

  “About an hour ago. I hollered at him ‘cause he was trying to get the other children to go into the mine with him.” She wiped at her wet eyes with the back of her
hand. “What if he’s lost in there?”

  “We’ll find him. Where’s Charlie?”

  “He’s down near the mine.”

  “Okay, you stay with the other women.”

  Narri clutched at his arm. “Find my grandbaby, Morgan. And Missy Gili, too.”

  Morgan took off running, yelling over his shoulder, “John, get the men together and meet me at the mine.”

  Morgan had covered no more than six feet when a white, four-wheel-drive vehicle, with the distinctive blue insignia of the police force down the side, skidded into the campsite amid a cloud of red dust. All four doors opened and out jumped the local police sergeant and three constables.

  Backtracking, Morgan held out his hand to the officer in charge. “Roy, it’s good to see you. Thanks for coming out.”

  “No problem, mate. You find any sign of those two blokes you told me about?”

  “No, damn it. The boys discovered a vehicle hidden in the brush up at the old camping ground, but nothing else.”

  “I’ll send two of the guys up there and we can run the plates.”

  Morgan shook his head. “Won’t do you any good. John said it’s a rental out of Winton.”

  Roy pushed back his hat and grinned. “Then we’ll have a description of the two of them. Only one vehicle rental place in Winton. In the meantime, the boys can disable the car so our friends can’t get away.”

  He waved over two of the constables and gave his orders before turning back to Morgan. “So how far did your boys search? Maybe we need to go over the whole area again.”

  “We have another problem. Piri’s missing. I was about to take the men into the mine to see if he has wandered in there.”

  Roy frowned. “Hmm, maybe that’s where our two intruders are hiding, too.”

  Morgan grimaced. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. And not only is Piri probably in there, but I think Gili is, too.”

  “Okay, let’s not waste any more time.” He pointed to the remaining constable. “James, you take half a dozen of Morgan’s boys and go over the immediate area again. When the other two come back from disabling that car, send them straight into the mine.”