Desert Flame
Australian Supernatural - Book Three
Nicole R. Taylor
Desert Flame (Australian Supernatural - Book Three) by Nicole R. Taylor
Copyright © 2020-21 by Nicole R. Taylor
All rights reserved.
This book is written in British/AU English.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.nicolertaylorwrites.com
Cover Design: Covers by Juan
Edited by: Silvia Curry
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Other Books in the Australian Supernatural Series…
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About Nicole
Chapter 1
It was a searing summer morning, and Eloise Hart sat on a battered camp chair, surveying the main street of Solace, Outback Australia.
The verandah of Hardy’s opal shop sheltered her from the scorching rays of the sun as she sipped from a stainless-steel tumbler full of ice water and glared viciously at nothing in particular.
Live in the Australian Outback, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Who ‘they’ were was irrelevant. It was way too hot. Even her brain felt like it was melting, which made thinking hard.
She supposed she had a choice—get back in her motorhome and keep driving—but whoever had sealed that ancient magic underneath the town probably hadn’t spared a thought about future generations and climate change. They probably hadn’t bargained on anyone finding it at all.
Then there were the Exiles—the supernaturals who lived in Solace—who she’d found love and friendship amongst. They were the things she never thought she’d have until her motorhome broke down five kilometres out of town. She couldn’t just leave them and the responsibility of protecting the seal because it was hot enough to cook an egg on the highway.
Trouble was everywhere, and no one was immune from encountering a little now and then.
Eloise sighed at the thought and tightened her grip on her tumbler. Was a fight with a gang of biker dingo-shifters considered ‘little’? What about possessed witches and dark spirits?
It’d been three months since the Nightshade had taken over Vera and terrorised Solace with an arcane tornado, and red dirt still kept showing up in the most unlikely spots. Like in the crevasses of the driver’s seat in Eloise’s van, inside her kitchen cabinets, in her shoes, in her underwear drawer. Somehow, it’d even made its way into her bellybutton. How it got in there of all places, was a mystery for the ages.
It didn’t help that Kyne had taken it upon himself to stir up even more. He’d promised to build them a home, and he’d done just that.
The coolest place to ride out the summer in the Red Centre was underground. At the right depth, it was a balmy twenty-five degrees Celsius all year round. That’s why everyone lived in dugouts—underground homes—if they wanted to remain uncooked. The only other option was to head towards the coast to ride out the season, but that wasn’t an option for the Exiles. Their watchful presence was always needed…so underground it was.
They’d picked a spot on the ridge behind the pub and got to work.
Being an elemental who loved rocks, Kyne had made short work of the excavations, carving out the hallways, rooms, and ventilation shafts inside a fortnight. With the help of Drew and Hardy, they’d hooked up electricity, plumbing, installed a bathroom and kitchen, and unveiled a hardcore air-conditioning unit that had made Eloise’s heart sing.
Since Drew had forbidden Vera from decorating his dugout, the witch was excited to help Eloise and Kyne with theirs. Eloise suspected she was still trying to avoid her own remodelling—considering that Rosheen had destroyed her altar with dark magic—but they’d had a great deal of fun searching for furniture and homewares, most of which would arrive on the next delivery truck out of Lightning Ridge.
Eloise’s van was parked underneath a newly built carport beside the front door. Kyne was making good on his promise that they weren’t really moving in together, even though they actually were. Things had moved so quickly between them, and her gaze kept moving towards the solitary freedom her van had provided. Kyne knew and understood, which was what made him so easy to be with, and after her tumultuous life, she really needed some easy.
The distant rumble of an approaching vehicle drew Eloise’s gaze south. A white and yellow truck shimmered through the mirage on the horizon as it crawled along the asphalt.
Kyne and Wally had gone on a mystery errand to Lightning Ridge for the day, and as she sipped her ice water, she hoped this wasn’t the fruits of their labour approaching.
It looked like a crane, but as the truck drew closer, Eloise realised it was a drill—an enormous one at that.
It drew to a lumbering stop outside the opal shop, and the air brakes hissed loudly as Kyne turned off the engine. The miner jumped out of the cab, slamming the driver’s side door closed, and crossed the highway. He had a huge smile on his face and a pep in his step that she hadn’t seen before.
Eloise stared up at the bright yellow machinery. “What in the world is that?”
“This,” Kyne said, spreading his arms wide, “is a giant drill.”
“I can see that. What’s it for?”
“It’s a Caldweld drill,” the miner explained. “It’ll help me sink a new shaft out at Black Hole Mine. See this?” He pointed to the drill bit on the back of the truck. “One metre in diameter. It’ll chew the ground up and spit it out. Add a little elemental juice, and I’ll be down to the level in no time.”
“So, you’re going back out?” Eloise’s heart sank as she looked over the machinery. She was getting used to having him around every day, which was a feat for a solitary soul like herself.
He nodded and leaned against the verandah post. “I thought I’d get things started while there was a lull in life-threatening situations.”
She set down the icy tumbler and stood. “But isn’t it too hot?”
“Yeah, but the season starts in March, and there’s only a four-month window before it gets hot again.”
Eloise hesitated. “Only four months? I thought it was six?”
“March through May, if the going’s good.” He looked over at the drill and grinned. “This beauty will get me going in no time. Still gotta get a tipper, though.”
“Tipper?”
“The hoist and bucket,” he replied. “You know, the one you crumpled with your mind?”
Eloise groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t remind me.”
“Maybe you can un-crumple it?”
Could she do that? She looked up at Kyne, who laughed at her hopeful expression.
“Yeah, nah,” he said. “Just playing with you.”
Eloise rolled her eyes as Wally’s ute zoomed into town and hurtled off the highway and into the yard behind the garage. The wheels kicked up a cloud of rust-coloured dirt, the cloud billow
ing into the still air.
It was a reminder of what they’d been through, and not even the holidays had dulled the memory of the nightmare the Nightshade had risen amongst the wind—kadaitcha, the shadow spirits of vengeful souls.
And the seal loomed, as it probably always would.
“What?” Kyne asked, stepping into the shade beside her. “This is my job, Eloise. You gunna miss me that much?”
“Well, the last time you were in a mine to work, it was with me…and it collapsed on us.”
Kyne grimaced and rubbed his palm up and down her arm. “How could I forget?”
“I know I never will.”
“There’s more black opal in that lease,” he went on, “and I intend to get it out. Gotta give you something to polish, hey?”
“What about our lessons?”
“We’ve been working on your power for months now, and you’re good, Eloise. Really good.”
“Are you sure?” She was starting to sound whiny, and she winced.
“Elemental power is natural,” Kyne told her. “You’ve been doing it all your life, and now you know the difference, so there isn’t much to learn.”
“You say it like it’s so easy,” she complained.
“It is.” When she scowled, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and rapped a finger on the brim of her hat, knocking the front down over her eyes. “I’m not leaving you, if that’s what this is all about.”
Eloise scoffed and set her hat right. “No.”
“Then what?”
She sighed and looked away from him, shooting a filthy look at the drill. “The seal.”
“What about the seal?”
“Things are only going to get worse, and…” She shrugged. “I dunno, I guess I’m anxious about it.”
“The seal will do what it’s always done. We’re all on the lookout, like we’ve always been.”
“But—”
“Eloise.” Kyne grasped her shoulders. “Life has to go on. We have to work and survive. The seal has a whole town full of supernaturals watching it. We’ve got it covered, trust me.”
He was right, but she wasn’t fully admitting everything. She was anxious about him leaving to go back into that mine. He had magical powers that could melt rock, so she shouldn’t worry, but she couldn’t help it. After a lifetime of separation from people, Kyne was…well, he was important.
“G’day,” Wally called as he strolled across the highway. “What a beaut!” He pointed to the drill. “The best money can rent in all the Ridge!”
Eloise pursed her lips as Kyne attempted to wave him off.
The old werewolf looked between the two elementals and pulled off his hat. Rubbing his temples, he grimaced. “I’ve a feeling I’ve stepped in something.”
“No, not at all,” Eloise said, picking up the tumbler of water off the ground. “You boys have fun playing with your toys. I’m going back inside where there’s air conditioning.”
She wrenched open the door and stepped into the cool showroom, the sounds of Hardy using the grinder in the workshop drifting out to meet her.
“You didn’t discuss it with her?” She heard Wally say outside. “That’s the first rule in a relationship, mate.”
Maybe that’s why it bothered me, she wondered. If that was a ‘rule,’ then she needed to order a copy of that book…for herself as much as Kyne.
Coen looked out over the vast expanse of the Australian outback, his starlit eyes taking in the layers of earth surrounding the iron ore deposit. It sat north of Solace, on a remote swathe of land once owned by no one but traveled by many mobs, which was now claimed by white fellas living in a place called ‘Walawala Station.’
Walawala was a word in one of the many languages of the first peoples of Australia that meant ’storm.’ The iron ore gathered in the edges of the ancient coral reef was just that—a tempest of nature coiled into the ground like a snake warming itself in the sun.
He looked to the sky, studying the blue, and acknowledged the omen. His own name meant ‘thunder,’ and Drew, the dingo-shifter, was the lightning, though his name didn’t bear the words.
How Coen hadn’t seen the iron ore before now was a curious circumstance. He travelled the Dreaming and followed the trails woven by the songs of the Ancestors. Something had concealed this place from his sight.
“It’s not meant to be here,” he said to the dusty brown kangaroo sitting beside him.
Marlu looked up at him, her warm, chocolate eyes full of curiosity. Her joey stirred in her pouch, its gangly legs wriggling in the air. They baby would remain inside for eight months, then stay by her side for another three or four before it was time for him to brave the world on his own.
And what a world he would see.
Magic stirred in this isolated place. Magic like Coen had never seen before, and he’d travelled far and wide. He spoke to mobs in all corners, heard their stories, and listened to their memory. He felt magic all over, but not like here—not like Solace and not like this iron ore.
“An ancient shadow looms over this place,” he murmured. “It wakes.”
Coen thought of Solace and Eloise Hart with her shiny white van. And Vera, the witch with fire for hair who commanded water. They had been tested, but the iron ore would bring a shadow that stretched over the ages. Coen wasn’t sure he was supposed to be a part of this story.
He thought of all the people in Solace and their task deep into the afternoon. He thought so long that the sun began to sink, casting the sky in amber flame.
Stroking a finger over the marlu’s long silky ear, he sighed as the first stars of the coming night appeared through the sapphire flame of sunset. The planets emerged around the moon—Venus and Mars—and he looked to the dark places between.
His task was to watch the Dreaming and follow his walkabout. He was stepping too far off the trail. He knew this world, but beyond it…? Those were places for others to walk.
Marlu lounged beside him, her eyes drooping as sleep beckoned her. Coen said nothing, letting the kangaroo doze. Her joey was hard work, and their task was even harder. She must sleep if she could.
Coen pressed a finger into the ochre dirt that was still warm from the day and drew. The lines were straight and the corners sharp, the strange language holding magic that was unknown to him or this world. Like others, she came from other places, other trails. Their songs were different from his but wove into the land with a comfortable harmony.
With his drawing complete, Coen looked back to the iron ore and began to hum, his voice echoing softly down the rise.
It was time for the Druid to wake.
Chapter 2
Hardy sat at the bench in his workshop, tilting his latest polished opal back and forth.
The light of the lamp bounced off the smooth surface and flashes of red, blue, green, and purple ignited in a kaleidoscope of brilliant colour. The black only emboldened the rainbow, the iron-rich earth deepening the hue of the potch—colourless opal—to create the most valuable opal in the world.
As a vampire, he had an enhanced talent for seeing more than the average human. Things an otherwise experienced cutter would miss—the fleck of colour within a smoky piece of potch, or a streak of imperfection within the stone, or the gentle touch required to get the best cut.
There’d been times he’d let the grinder buff off his fingertips rather than let go of a good piece. One long movement made for a spectacular stone, whereas two would have spoiled it. Pain was relative for a vampire—considering his fingers healed mere moments later—and the wound was always forgotten in the wake of the finished opal.
The stone was exquisite, but as he set it down on the workbench, he realised something was missing. His wonder and joy had left him.
Hardy had been in Solace longer than he’d settled anywhere as a vampire. It was the first and only pace he’d been accepted for who he truly was. He should be thankful, but his heart was heavy…and restless.
It happened from time to time, and w
as to be expected given his long life, but a strange shadow loomed behind him. A shadow that he could never quite see, no matter how quickly he turned around.
The showroom door opened, then slammed shut, and footsteps echoed through the shop. The familiar scent of vanilla and black tea proceeded Eloise Hart, and Hardy glanced up as the elemental barged into the workshop with a stainless-steel drink bottle in her hand.
She sank into her usual chair and sighed a rather dramatic sigh, setting down the bottle.
“What chaos has Solace dished up this afternoon?” the vampire asked. It must have something to do with the truck he’d heard pull up outside, because nothing else happened in Solace. Well, outside of dingo-shifter biker gangs and cursed tornado-summoning witches, that was.
“Kyne and Wally went into Lightning Ridge to get a big arse drill and didn’t tell me about it.”
“Ah, I see.” For a moment, Hardy’s sadness seemed to lull, and he was grateful for something else to worry about. Something normal.
“I just…” She let out a frustrated groan. “Does he have to start right now? It’s still forty degrees outside!”
“He is an elemental miner,” Hardy reminded her. “He’s at home underground, scratching for opal. Besides, he was an eternal bachelor until recently. Discussing things was never his forte, I’m afraid.”
Eloise blinked. “Well, that was bland of you.”
“Bland?”
“Your tone,” she explained. “It was very…old world.”
“No more than usual.” He chuckled, well aware he spoke much more formally that the other Exiles, despite his upbringing.
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