Outback Spirit

by Nicole R. Taylor

  “It has nothing to do with gender,” Kyne said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s everything to do with the colour in the wall.”

  Hardy sighed. “All the more reason to spend more time in town, eh?”

  “You going to buy or not? I’ve got shit to do.”

  He sighed and began to put the opal back into the ziplock bag. “One hundred.”

  “One fifty.”

  “One ten.”

  “One fifty.”

  “One thirty.”

  “One fifty.”

  Hardy chuckled and snatched up the opal before Kyne could take it back. “Fine. One fifty. Transfer will be done today.”

  “Was that so hard?”

  “As hard as it is for you to say thank you.”

  Kyne snorted and tipped the brim of his hat. “Nice doing business with you.”

  Chapter 4

  Vera leaned around the corner of the garage and watched the door of Hardy’s shop.

  Behind her, she could hear Drew fussing with the lock on Eloise’s van. He cursed and she turned to scold him. He was taking far too long.

  “I thought you knew how to break into stuff,” she complained.

  “Why would I know how?” Drew asked with a scowl.

  “You’re a criminal, aren’t you?” She pouted. “Reformed, I hope.”

  “You’re such a good influence.” He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just touch the van to get your vision?”

  “It doesn’t work like that. I’d rather touch her directly, but that isn’t going to happen any time soon.”

  Drew snorted. “You do realise how dodgy that sounds, right?”

  “Just because your mind’s in the gutter.”

  He turned his back on her and continued working on the sliding door, jamming a screwdriver into the gap.

  “Careful,” Vera said. “Don’t damage the paint.”

  “Step off,” Drew muttered. “I know what I’m doing.”

  She grimaced and looked back towards Hardy’s shop. Eloise could come back at any moment and find them. How would they explain this?

  “What were you doing behind the pub naked?” Vera asked. “Were you running again?”

  Drew grunted, not answering either question.

  “I took you in on the provisor that you’d stop tempting fate, Drew.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” he complained, turning to face her. “I have to shift, Vera. I can’t help it.”

  Drew wasn’t bound to the moon like Wally, but she knew if he left it too long, he could spontaneously shift. Usually it wouldn’t be a problem, but with Eloise around, they couldn’t risk him transforming in front of her. At least not until they knew who she was…and if she was a threat.

  Vera pursed her lips and nodded. “Just hurry up with that door, will you?”

  He grunted and wiggled the screwdriver. A moment later, the door popped open and he let out a triumphant yelp. “Got the bastard.”

  “Let me see.”

  Drew slid the door open and Vera ducked inside. There wasn’t much to see, but the little motorhome was fully fitted for off-grid living.

  There was a small, separate shower and toilet, a little kitchenette with a sink and gas cooktop, a fold-away table, a queen-sized bed at the rear, and loads of cupboards and hidey-holes for storage.

  “This is pretty cool,” Vera said with an appreciative nod. “Living light on four wheels. I dig it.”

  Drew leaned against the side of the van. “Yeah, well, start feeling up her stuff ‘cos I ain’t getting caught here with you.”

  Vera looked around, wondering where Eloise would keep her personal keepsakes—sentimental items like jewellery, photographs, books, or even a journal. Clothes and cooking utensils didn’t cut the mustard.

  Leaning over the bed, she lifted the pillow and found a carefully folded set of unicorn pyjamas. Cute, but not personal enough.

  The overhead cupboards came next, then under the kitchen counter, and even the front glovebox. If Eloise had anything worth finding, it was carefully hidden…or maybe she didn’t have anything at all. No memories. No reminders.

  Frowning, she decided to lift the mattress.

  “Yes,” she cried, finding a small brown notebook hiding underneath. “Pay dirt.”

  The moment her fingers touched the cover, her vision blacked out and an image slammed into her. Her magic wrapped around it and pulled it into her mind’s eye.

  A mountain of pitch-black volcanic boulders rising out of a brilliant green forest and piercing the bluest sky she’d ever seen. A figure looking down on her. A hand reaching out to grasp hers. Three knocks in the darkness. Knock, knock, knock.

  Vera gasped, wrenching her hand back from the notebook, and let the mattress fall back into place.

  “What did you see?” Drew asked, hopping up into the motorhome.

  “A…mountain.” She shook her head. Her thoughts were buzzing and her magic crackled as she recalled the black rock.

  “A mountain? What the bloody hell does a mountain have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know…”

  Drew waited a moment. “So? Is she an Exile or not?”

  A clang echoed inside the garage and Wally’s head appeared in the window.

  “Uh oh. I’m outta here,” Drew declared, then legged it across the yard and into the scrub, leaping over the spiky tufts of spinifex grass.

  Wally barged out of the garage and stormed over to the van. Looking inside at Vera, he scowled. “And what in blue blazes do you think you’re doing?”

  “Uh…” Vera began, “canvassing for clues?”

  “This isn’t the way to earn her trust.” The mechanic ran a thumb along the edge of the door. “Lucky for you, that boy didn’t do any damage.”

  “Wally, don’t be mad,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. “We have to know sooner rather than later.”

  “And who’s fault is that? You’re lucky Kyne isn’t here.”

  Vera snorted and hopped out of the van. “Well, he isn’t, and I’m sick of hearing about him.”

  Wally closed the sliding door and sighed. “Go on, get outta here before Eloise comes back.”

  Vera huffed and stalked away, her mind full of more questions than answers.

  Eloise pushed open the door of the opal shop and stepped out into the afternoon sun.

  Hardy had begun teaching her the finer mechanics of cutting potch, but her mind was still on the miner. What was his name? Kyne. Total hottie, but man, what a douche.

  She hadn’t heard much of what they’d said, but it wasn’t good. In the end, Hardy had bought himself an expensive parcel of black opal—apparently, it was a huge deal—and had set about teaching her the basics of grinding out imperfections before going off to fawn over the new stones.

  She’d spent most of the day at the array of diamond grinding wheels, experimenting with cutting different shapes. The goal was to make the stones as big as possible, all while grinding off the imperfections. Her fingers were raw and wobbly from the constant stream of water running over her work, but Hardy said it was to stop the opal from burning or cracking—the grinder created a lot of heat.

  There was a reason he’d given her potch to work with. Opal was softer than she’d expected and the slightest touch against the grinder was a battle of wills…and power. Practice was the only thing that was going to stop her from accidentally grinding away a whole stone.

  He seemed satisfied with her work and promised to teach her the next step—polishing—tomorrow.

  Looking up the road, Eloise decided she’d gathered enough courage to venture into the Outpost. Last night hadn’t been her finest hour. Awkward was her middle name, after all. Eloise Awkward-Mind-Eraser Hart, at your service.

  Vera was sitting on the verandah when she approached.

  “Did I see you come out of Hardy’s just now?” the Irishwoman asked, not saying hello.

  Eloise nodded. “Yeah. He kind of offered me a job.”

  “Kind of?�
�� Vera laughed. “How does one kind of offer someone a job?”

  She shrugged. “He wants me to polish potch.”

  “Ahh, for his pet project. The man has stamina, but he does too much.”

  Eloise bit her tongue, wondering how many men the redhead had been through. She certainly implied it.

  “Listen, about last night…” Eloise swatted away a persistent fly. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” She waved another fly away. “I didn’t mean…”

  Vera smiled at her. “Don’t mention it. Finn should be the one doing the apologising. His toxic commentary has enraged the best of us.”

  Eloise suspected Vera was just trying to be nice by skirting around her unwillingness to be touched, but she was determined not to let her anxiety drive her away, not this time. It was only her second day here.

  “You always seem to apologise for him. Were you together?”

  Vera laughed and shook her head. “God, no.”

  “Hardy?”

  “No…but I wouldn’t mind.”

  Eloise waved away another fly, noticing that they seemed to give Vera a wide berth and go straight for her instead. She swatted at the annoying bugs and spat as one tried to fly into her mouth.

  “Annoying little things, aren’t they?” Vera asked.

  “Why aren’t they bothering you?”

  “Vanilla.” She fished in her pocket and took out a small, clear atomiser filled with a yellowish liquid. “It’s my own special blend, all natural. You want to try some?”

  She didn’t see the harm in it. “Sure.”

  “Stand back. Arms out.” Vera held up the atomiser as Eloise assumed the position and spritzed the sweet-smelling liquid over her. “There. Now they won’t want a bar of you.”

  As promised, the flies began to dodge her, searching other prey to annoy to death.

  “It’s a miracle,” she said.

  “Hardly,” Vera told her. “Just nature’s craziness.” She nodded towards the door. “Are you looking to do some shopping?”

  “Maybe. Just seeing the sights for now.”

  “Well, you’ve pretty much seen all Solace has to offer in one glance.” Vera laughed and opened the door. “Come on in.”

  When they walked in, Drew was sitting behind the counter flipping through a magazine. He smirked at Eloise. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

  “Luckily for me, you’re fully clothed,” she retorted.

  Vera snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. When she’d composed herself, she asked, “Are you looking for anything in particular? We’ve got a bit of everything.”

  “Not really. I just wanted to check it out.”

  “Well, let me give you the grand tour.”

  Vera took her on the round-trip, past the fruit and veg crates at the front, the fridges and freezers on one side, the grocery aisles in the middle, then hardware and miscellaneous goods on the other side. The post office and banking facilities were situated at the front counter, as well as a rack of postcards and packing materials. There was even a small shelf of souvenirs and cheap sunglasses by the counter, and one of those freezers with the sliding tops that was full of ice-cream. A storeroom was at the rear and a set of stairs led to a basement area, which she explained was a section of old opal mine that she’d converted to a small apartment after buying the place.

  Eloise was impressed as they walked the length of one of the aisles. Vera had a good set up. It was bright and rather clean for the outback—red dirt got into everything out here.

  “It’s a good set up,” Vera told her. “I’m not a millionaire, but I do a decent trade. This is the only place to get food for a hundred kilometres. With Wally and his garage, and Blue and the pub, we’ve got the place covered.”

  Eloise opened her mouth to reply, but the roar of engines vibrated outside. She turned to the windows just as a convoy of motorcycles slowed in front of the Outpost. They pulled up in a long formation on the side of the road, a dozen leather and denim-clad men revving their engines.

  They were unmistakably bikies—big, hulking men with insignia on their vests and jackets. There was nothing exciting or romantic about them.

  “Get out of here,” Vera snapped at Drew before striding towards the front of the shop. “Watch the back, they’ll be on it.”

  Eloise looked over her shoulder as Drew sprinted down the aisle, then disappeared into the storeroom.

  “Who are these guys?” she asked as two of the men got off their motorcycles.

  “Go down the aisle,” Vera hissed. “Stay quiet.”

  Eloise gritted her teeth but did as she was told, not wanting to get involved in whatever shakedown was about to happen.

  The door opened and heavy boots thudded on the floor as the men barged in.

  Her breath caught as she felt something change in the air. It was similar to the sensation she’d sensed around Coen and the others, even on the road outside, but they were cold.

  The door closed with a bang and they looked around the store. Eloise tensed, lingering beside the breakfast cereal. Think small thoughts. Think small thoughts.

  “We’re looking for Drew,” the bigger man growled. “Be a good girl and tell us where that rat is hiding.”

  When Vera didn’t answer straight away, he shoved over the postcard display, the metal rack falling to the floor with a clatter. Cards scattered everywhere, sliding underneath the shelves. Then he picked up a bottle of tomato sauce from the nearest shelf and dropped it.

  Red sauce splattered, coating the postcards and linoleum, and splintered glass fanned out around the drop zone.

  “Give it a rest!” Vera exclaimed. “I’ve got nothing to do with whatever you’ve got going on with Drew.”

  “Where is he?” the first man growled. “We know he’s been here. I can smell him.”

  “He came in yesterday,” she bluffed. “Bought some grog, then left.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Eloise eyed the second man, her gaze falling to the insignia on his vest. White writing wrapped around an image of a howling wolf…no, it was a dingo. Their little biker gang was called the Dust Dogs.

  She wanted to laugh at the irony but knew better than to make a sound. There wasn’t much going on for a criminal gang out here, but these men seemed to be more into thuggery than anything else—turf wars and robbery. If she did anything to provoke them, they’d likely force Vera to crack open the till.

  “Who’s that?” the first man demanded, pointing to Eloise.

  “No one,” Vera replied. “She’s just passing through. A traveller.” Then she muttered something to him that Eloise couldn’t make out.

  The man whistled and his mate turned down the aisle, striding towards Eloise.

  Damn it.

  The man stared at her, his bulky frame looming. She didn’t dare break eye contact.

  Suddenly, he barked at her like a dog, making her flinch. He laughed and stepped closer.

  She hissed. “Once more step and—”

  “And you’ll what, little girl?” he demanded.

  Eloise gathered her courage, narrowed her eyes, and held up her hand, hoping her gut feeling was right. “I’ll give you a lobotomy, that’s what.”

  “She’s nobody,” the man called, eyeing her suspiciously. “Never seen her before.”

  “You tell Drew we know he’s hiding around here,” the first man snarled at Vera. “It’s only a matter of time before we hunt him down and get back what’s ours. You tell him.”

  Vera nodded, her eyes wide as something silent passed between her and the bikie.

  Waving at his mate, the man growled, “Let’s get out of this shithole.”

  The man snarled at Eloise one last time before he backed away, joining the other man as they left the shop.

  Outside, the Dust Dogs brought their engines to life, revving the beasts in a show of macho intimidation. The windows rattled and Eloise stuck her fingers in her ears. They began to howl and bark, making rude gestures at the Outpost bef
ore they rolled out, kicking up a cloud of dust as they went.

  Drew didn’t show his face until the sound of the convoy had long faded. He slunk out of the storeroom, betraying he hadn’t gone far, and returned to the front of the store.

  Eloise followed, watching him closely as her hands trembled. She wasn’t used to confrontation and was feeling a little woozy. What was next? A Molotov through the front window? After seeing that display, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  “You lied to me,” Vera hissed at Drew.

  “I didn’t lie…” he fired back, “I left a few things out. There’s a difference.”

  She picked up a potato and hurled it at him with an angry cry. Drew ducked and it slammed into the wall behind him.

  Eloise sighed and began to pick up postcards, separating the clean ones from the tomato sauce. There was definitely something askew about this place. The evidence was mounting, but the case was still unknown.

  “Get out!” Vera shrieked. “Get out and don’t come back until you’ve sorted out your shit! I’ve had enough!”

  Drew ducked another potato and swore loudly before storming out. He slammed the door behind him, the glass rattling.

  “Sorry,” Vera said, kneeling beside Eloise. “I’m so bloody embarrassed.” She picked up postcards, her anger palpable.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Eloise told her. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I knew he had a troubled past, but I thought I was doing a good thing. Give him a leg up, you know? But those guys…”

  “You tried to do a good thing for him. Not many people care.”

  Vera glanced at her. “Sounds like you know about it.”

  Eloise shrugged. “I’ve travelled a lot. People are the same wherever you go.”

  “You travel in your van?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All the time?”

  “For a couple of years now.”

  “What about your family? Are they okay with you driving around on your own?”

  “I can take care of myself,” Eloise replied.

  “I’m sure you can.” Vera glanced at the door. “You seem to know how to handle yourself.”

  “I hate to buy into stereotypes, but as a solo female traveller, I have to.”