Outback Spirit

by Nicole R. Taylor

  What was it about Eloise that had him so…rattled? His head was messed up more than ever and that was saying something, considering it was almost always full of rocks. Why the Exiles wanted him to be their leader had always been a mystery to him. Hardy was more levelheaded than any of them and with his decades of life experience, he seemed the better option. At least the vampire wasn’t dumb enough to try to take on a werewolf head-on.

  Wally was clattering around inside as he decided what tools he was bringing on their trek out back, the sound of metal smashing against metal echoing into the bright morning.

  If there was a hole out there, they’d find it and make sure it was plugged.

  “How’s Eloise?” Wally emerged with a shotgun in one worn hand, a pick in the other, and his brown hat slightly askew on his grey, balding head.

  Kyne eyed the gun. “You really that paranoid?”

  “Aren’t you?” He shook his head and his hat settled into place. “After the other night, I’m not taking any chances. It’s the first and last time I’m ever letting my guard down.”

  “You’ve never been loose before?”

  “Not since I was first turned.” Wally slammed his fist on the button for the roller door and it began to close with a grating rattle. “It’s not an experience I’d like to repeat. I’m just…” he sniffed, “I’m just glad I didn’t hurt her. Not that being lost out there is any better.”

  Kyne clapped a hand on the old timer’s shoulder. “She doesn’t blame you.”

  “Yeah, nah, but I blame me.”

  He sighed and grabbed his pick. “C’mon then, old man. Let’s check the damage.”

  They walked around the back of the garage, past Eloise’s van, and into the scrub.

  “First Vera’s shop, now my mine,” Wally said. “If this keeps on, we’re going to have to do something about those Dust Dogs.”

  Kyne was inclined to agree but said nothing. The Dust Dogs were all the bad things about being a pack shifter. Their animal instincts mixed with crooked human criminal gang politics was bad business. Going after them wouldn’t end well. They’d need guns, numbers, and more magic than any of them had. About ten Hardys might do the trick, but vampires were in short supply.

  “Whatever Drew took from them has to be valuable,” Wally added.

  “Yeah,” Kyne mused. “But he’s not talking, and I don’t fancy being smashed in the head with a shovel.”

  “Hardy said he came back with Coen. Maybe he’s got something to say.”

  “Getting a straight answer out of Coen is like getting blood from a stone,” Kyne replied. “Finding him is even harder.”

  Wally grunted, ducking under a low branch. “We’re lucky they haven’t come as dingoes. I’ve seen what Drew is like when he shifts and I’m glad I don’t remember what I do as a wolf.”

  “If you had control, would you want it?”

  Wally snorted. “Of course. If I could stop myself from hunting, it’s all I’d want. I wouldn’t have to lock myself up every full moon and we wouldn’t be out here looking for dingo holes.”

  They went a little farther, the mine coming into view. There wasn’t much to see, just a metal grate and a sheet of rusty corrugated iron laying over a single shaft. It was padlocked shut, the whole thing on a frame Kyne had sunk into the hard bedrock. Nothing was moving that thing, not unless they had a pair of bolt cutters. That’s if they got past the magical wards Vera had cast to prevent the lock from being opened by anything other than the key that Wally usually kept locked in his safe back at the garage.

  “The lid is screwed on tight,” the old mechanic said.

  “Hang on a sec.” Kyne knelt, propping his weight against the handle of his pick. Pressing his palm against the warm earth, he closed his eyes. If something had been dug up around here, he’d feel it.

  Below, he followed the tunnels of Wally’s mine, sensing the remains of potch in the old riverbed. The opal had long been dug out; the mine abandoned to ruin until he’d helped the old man turn it into his wolf sanctuary.

  Finally, he stood. “There’s a breach to the west. This way.”

  Kyne sensed Wally’s growing unease as they walked.

  “Did Eloise say anything about what happened out there?” the mechanic asked.

  Kyne thought about it for a moment, recalling Vera’s vision. She’d told Kyne about it, but not until after he’d returned from his mining adventure with Eloise. This witch had broken into her van in order to get it, but that was another story he didn’t care to dwell on. It was best to not ask too many leading questions where Vera was involved.

  A black mountain made of volcanic rock, a figure reaching towards her, and three knocks in the darkness.

  The knocks were the kadaitcha Eloise had mentioned. He’d heard enough stories about them to know they called to each other with simple and sometimes complex knocking sounds in the night. The figure may have been Coen when he’d found her, the Min Min was a precursor to his last meeting with the man. But the mountain was a mystery.

  “She didn’t say much, but what she did wasn’t heartwarming,” Kyne said, thinking it was best to keep Vera’s vision between him, Hardy, and the witch.

  Wally glanced at him. “What did she say?”

  “Something about things in her dreams coming to life and kadaitchas.”

  “Kadaitchas? Strewth.”

  “She must have seen one, though I’m not sure how she knows what one looks like. Even I haven’t eyed one of the bastards.”

  “Neither have I, and I’ve been here thirty years. Coen’s always going on about them.”

  “Yeah, but he goes places none of us can.” Kyne pointed ahead where he spotted a pile of disturbed earth. “Here’s our hole.”

  The breech was a rough opening punched into the side of a low rise, tunnelling diagonally down into the mine below. A perfect runway for a four-legged creature to find their way out.

  One look told him there was no doubting the Dust Dogs were responsible. Their paw prints were all over the crime scene. Either they were too stupid to cover their trail or they didn’t care. Odds on, this was a part of their message.

  “Seems like our suspicions have evidence,” Kyne said, glaring at the dingo tracks.

  Wally peered into the hole. “It’s only big enough for a bloke to get down there bent over. More than enough room for a wolf.”

  Kyne joined him and assessed the shaft. “Rough work. Must’ve been out here for weeks.” If he’d been here, maybe he would’ve noticed them working, but he wasn’t and there was no use dwelling on it. “Stand back. I’m going to cave this thing in.”

  “Your powers working okay again?”

  He glared at the mechanic. “Don’t start.”

  Wally shrugged, took Kyne’s pick, and moved back a few paces. At least they wouldn’t have to dig.

  Kyne placed his hands on either side of the shaft and called his power. He felt the earth stir as it heard his call, and then the ground began to shift and move. Dirt and rock began to loosen, a crack forming in the ceiling of the tunnel from the bottom all the way to where he stood at the opening.

  A whoosh of air burst out of the shaft as the rock caved in, buffeting Kyne back a step or two. Coughing, he asked the dust to settle, though it replied reluctantly. When the air was clear, the tunnel was well and truly blocked.

  “Thanks, Kyne. Made my job a hell of a lot easier.” Wally wiped the sweat from his brow. “What are we going to do?”

  “For now, I’ll help you reenforce the mine so this doesn’t happen again. It’ll mean shortening the runs, maybe installing some metal panels. Keep it contained.”

  “I wasn’t talking about me.”

  Kyne drew in a deep breath and swatted away a few stray flies.

  “The Dust Dogs will be back, and soon,” Wally said.

  “I know.”

  “Drew is holed up at Blue’s,” the old man told him. “I reckon it’s time to have a good sit down with him and figure out some stuff.”
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  “That’s if he wants to talk.”

  “We took the kid in when he showed up in nothing but rags. He’ll talk if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “Drew is many things, but smart is not one of them,” Kyne said.

  “Give the kid a little credit. Maybe he had a good reason.”

  “You’re too forgiving, Wally.” He sighed and shook his head. “Trust goes both ways if he wants us to hide him from the dingoes.”

  “And maybe you’re too quick to write the kid off.”

  Kyne laughed and collected his pick. “Look who’s talking, old timer.”

  Chapter 16

  Eloise slept all through that day and half the night before she woke.

  Vera’s magic had done wonders, healing her burned skin and hydrating her body. By the next day, she felt well enough to return to work at Hardy’s shop.

  The witch had filled her in on the comings and goings, telling her that Kyne had come back but hadn’t wanted to wake her. He’d gone out with Wally, found the hole, and plugged it.

  Eloise was a little disappointed she hadn’t been awake to see him, and the realisation frightened her. Out of all the people in Solace, he was the only person she’d confided in. Was it because he was like her or was it something else? She was too inexperienced to know which it was.

  Outside Vera’s dugout, the sun was brighter than Eloise had remembered. Holding her hand up to shield her eyes, she looked around, her gaze falling on the scrub. Her expression fell, as did her heart.

  “Eloise!”

  She turned at the sound of Wally’s voice and waited in the shade as he jogged across the road.

  He stood before her, his head lowered. “I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for what happened.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Wally,” she replied. “You told me you’re not yourself when you change. If we’re blaming anyone, it’s the Dust Dogs.”

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he went on, wringing his hands. “I swear it.”

  “There’s nothing to make up for,” she said, but he didn’t seem to want to listen.

  “In all my years, that’s never happened to me. Besides the first time I transformed, I’ve been careful about locking myself away on the full moon. Not taken any chances. I guess I got comfortable out here. Didn’t—”

  “Wally,” Eloise said.

  He coughed and looked at her. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t blame you. It was my own stupid fault for running into the outback.” She sighed. “Maybe I should’ve run to Blue’s or Vera’s. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

  “Where are you off to?”

  “Back to work.”

  “Already?”

  “Thank Vera for that,” she replied. “I don’t fancy lying in her bed all day and I’m perfectly all right.”

  “Can I walk you?”

  Hardy’s shop was barely ten metres across the side road, but Eloise nodded.

  “The part for your van will be on the next truck from the city,” Wally said. “We only get mail once every so often out here, but I got a rush on it for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So where are you off to next? Would you fancy staying around a bit longer? After everything that happened with Kyne…I thought you might stay a while.”

  “I really don’t know,” she replied. “I never had a plan when I began travelling. I just drove in a direction I hadn’t been before. Solace… Well, I’m not sure about it.”

  Wally ducked underneath the verandah of Hardy’s shop and wiped his brow, knocking his hat was askew. “Ah, well, you think on that, hey? We’d be glad to have you…” he coughed, “uh, despite everything.”

  Eloise sent the mechanic on his way with a good-natured laugh and went inside.

  When she walked into the workshop, Hardy swivelled around in his chair and grinned. “Hey! How are you feeling?”

  “Embarrassed,” she replied.

  “No, don’t be,” he told her. “It’s hard to know what to do in a situation like that until you’re in it.”

  Eloise shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “I know so.” He stood and handed her a bag full of potch. “You up for it?”

  “Hardy… I…” She sighed and gathered her courage. “Are you sure you want me doing this? I mean, the money—”

  “Don’t worry about the money,” he interrupted. “I wasn’t lying to you when I said this project was important to me. It may be a charity thing, but I can afford it. If I could hand Kyne three hundred and fifty grand inside a week, trust me when I say, twenty bucks an hour is nothing.”

  Her eyes widened as she realised just how much money Kyne had pocketed for all that black opal. Maybe she should’ve pulled her finger out and gone back into Black Hole Mine after all.

  Hardy chuckled and glanced towards the shopfront as the bell on the door rung. “Hold that thought. I’ll be back.”

  Opening the bag of potch, she tipped some of the contents onto the counter and began picking out the best pieces. There was some of the black Kyne had brought in, and some of the usually creamy stuff.

  “So, this is where the magic happens.”

  Eloise turned around, finding Finn lingering in the workshop. He began poking at some tools, his eyes narrowing. There wasn’t much to like about the fae, but the threat level was low. He seemed the passionate type, not the kind of guy who’d try to rob the place while Hardy’s back was turned.

  She looked past him. “Where’s Hardy?”

  “Gone to get some shit, I dunno. He said something, but I wasn’t listening.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Does that happen a lot?”

  “What?”

  “The not listening part?”

  “I see you’re feeling better,” he said with a smirk.

  “Thanks to Vera’s magic. I’d be covered in Aloe vera for a month if it wasn’t for her.”

  Finn snorted. His dislike of the witch was common knowledge, but what it was over was beyond her.

  “We went out looking for you,” he said, “but it was Coen and the dog who found you. Or so they say.” He also disliked Drew, and Eloise knew it was for more than the shovel incident.

  “I guess I should say thank you,” she said, ignoring his salty attitude. “So, thank you, Finn. To risk yourself for a stranger is… Well, I’m thankful. If you’d pass it onto the other fae, I’d be grateful. I’ve never met them or know where you live, so…”

  Finn smirked at her, like he knew a secret she didn’t. “Sure. Maybe one day you’ll be worthy enough to visit my camp.”

  “Your camp? Are you the leader?”

  “I guess I am.” He bowed mockingly, his bluish-black dreadlocks falling forwards over his shoulders.

  “So…” She picked up the bag of potch and began to pick through it. “Was there something I could help you with or are you waiting for Hardy to come back?”

  Finn pulled up a chair and sat beside her, his silver eyes staring at her kind of freakishly. They were a weird greyish-blue with black flecks and had the illusion of becoming metallic when the light hit them the right way.

  “Hardy wants me to watch you cut your precious opal,” he replied. “He also wanted me to keep my mouth shut, but I’m not into pleasing vampires.”

  Eloise was sure Finn was only into pleasing himself, but who was she to care? Everything seemed like a game to him, so she decided to play along.

  “So, what does fae magic do?”

  “All kinds of things,” he told her. “Depends.”

  “Okay… What can you do?”

  He held up his arm and her heart skipped a beat as a snake slithered out of his tattered shirt sleeve and curled around his forearm. “Animals love me.”

  “Erm…” she swallowed hard, “good to know.”

  “And I can sense magic. All fae can feel its call, especially in this world, though it’s stronger in some more than others.” The snake coiled up his arm and draped itself around hi
s neck. Eloise watched it closely, but Finn didn’t seem to care that he was making her uncomfortable. “She’s a death adder. She won’t hurt you unless I want her to.”

  “If you’re trying to reassure me, it’s not working.”

  Finn chuckled and leaned back in the chair. “So, get to polishing, little desert pea,” he drawled. “I’m just going to kick back with my snake and enjoy the air conditioning.”

  Eloise snorted. What a euphemism.

  So, if it was her magic they wanted to know about, then she’s better get to work. There were things she wanted to understand, too.

  Selecting a nice piece of black that she suspected had a tiny flash of colour hidden inside, she turned on the first grinder, checked that the water was running, and began to cut. She angled the stone as the rough belt sanded away the rubbish stuck to the top and bottom of the slice, revealing clean potch underneath. Then she began shaping, smoothing the jagged stone into something a little more pleasing to the eye.

  When she was done, she turned off the grinder and the workshop fell into silence.

  Glancing at Finn, she asked, “So?”

  “Your magic fires up the moment you touch that opal,” he told her. “It’s the same thing I see in Kyne.”

  “I don’t feel anything.”

  “That’s because it’s normal for you.”

  “That doesn’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”

  “Well…” He shrugged.

  “Well what?”

  “You’re different, but I think that’s because you have another talent. Kyne likes rocks, like the ones in his head. He can do other things, like you polishing that opal, but rocks are his favourite.”

  “What’s my favourite?”

  He shrugged as the snake began to slither under the collar of his shirt. “Dunno. You’re weird.”

  “I’m weird?” she scoffed. “You’re the one with the deadly snake living in your smelly armpit.”

  Finn laughed and kicked his feet up onto the sink. “Little mousey desert pea my arse.”

  “Desert pea?”

  “It’s a wildflower. Swainsona formosa. Look it up.”

  “I don’t know what to make of you, Finn,” she told him. “Are all fae abrasive a-holes?”