Outback Spirit

by Nicole R. Taylor

  When he was far enough away from Solace but close enough to the fae’s camp, he stopped. The Dust Dogs wouldn’t come here—they knew better than to mess with a bunch of fae, even if they came armed.

  He picked a lonely boab tree, tossed the bag down, and began to dig a hole at the base.

  Drew had lost count of all the ways he’d screwed up a long time ago, but his biggest mistake was falling in with the Dust Dogs. That mistake he could remember with pinpoint accuracy.

  Honestly, it’d seemed like a good idea at the time. He was a dingo shifter, bound to his shape and animal instincts, and he needed a pack…or so he’d thought. The only one he knew of was the Dust Dogs. Too bad they turned out to be a gang of bikers with a thirst for the hunt.

  Drew had mixed with bad crews before, but none of them had been like the Dogs. Blood, crime, violence…

  A hiss forced his head to rise and he saw a snake slither towards him. It was a big, brownish-grey death adder. Temperamental and deadly, it was one of the most dangerous in Australia.

  He tensed and grasped his shovel. Who’d strike quicker?

  “Careful, dingo,” a voice said from above. “He likes to bite dodgy canines who bury their shit in my backyard.”

  Drew looked up and saw Finn sitting in the branches of the boab. “Are you spying on me?”

  The fae leapt down, landing lithely on the ground next to the adder. The snake hissed and curled up his leg, disappearing underneath his silky black shirt.

  “You’re the one trespassing,” Finn said, his grey eyes blazing. “Leave the questions to me.”

  Drew stood and dusted his hands off against his pants. “I’m outside your border, fairy. Don’t threaten me.”

  Finn smirked. “You’re two inches off.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “That better be a turd,” the fae drawled, “because I want no part of your trouble with the Dust Dogs.”

  Drew said nothing, but it was as good as admitting he was up to no good.

  “I knew you stole something from them,” Finn said. “What is it?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Oh, I think it is. You’re burying hot merchandise on my property; your ex-boyfriends are trashing Vera’s shop and causing trouble all over. I hear them at night, howling. They’re on the hunt.” His gaze shifted to the disturbed earth at the base of the boab. “I’m guessing they want that back.”

  “Look, I’m doing this for the good of Solace,” Drew said. “If I didn’t take it, they’d be out for more blood.”

  Finn glanced at the base of the tree. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “You don’t know?” The fae snorted and shoved him aside.

  “Finn.” Drew grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

  He turned and glared at the shifter. “Why not?”

  Drew bit his tongue.

  “This has already become our problem, Drew,” Finn drawled. “Vera took you in out of the goodness in her heart, and all you’ve done is bring your trouble with you. You’ve done nothing to redeem yourself or pay off her kindness…and Solace’s.”

  “I’m not one of you,” Drew hissed. “I’m still the exiled dog, nothing but a bloody ex-con to all of you.”

  “We’re all Exiles,” the fae snapped. “We’re in this together. If Vera can stomach the fae after what my people did to hers, then telling the truth is the least you can do. We’ve all got baggage, princess.”

  Drew ground his teeth and tightened his grip on the shovel. He couldn’t tell anyone. The less people who knew about it, the better. They were lucky the Dust Dogs didn’t know about the seal. If they did, they’d burn Solace to the ground just to get to it.

  Drew couldn’t let it happen. That was how he was going to repay Vera, even though she’d never know it. Let them hate him if that’s what it took.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, Drew struck. The shovel collided with Finn’s head, sending the fae sprawling. He landed on his back, his arms spread wide…and he didn’t move.

  Drew knelt over him and checked his pulse. It was strong, but the guy was well and truly out cold. Finn was going to hate him even more for this, but what did it matter? He was already the outsider amongst a pack of outsiders. Nothing was worse than being rejected by society’s unwanted.

  The snake slithered out from underneath the fae’s shirt and rose, eyeing Drew. He cursed and backed away, brandishing the shovel.

  “I got nothing against you, mate,” he told the reptile. “Your daddy is going to wake up in a little while and be right as rain.”

  The adder swayed back and forth a few times, their tense standoff making him sweat, but after a moment, the snake thought better of it and returned to its place underneath Finn’s shirt.

  Drew heaved a sigh of relief and turned back to the boab. He’d have to find somewhere else to bury his stash.

  Finn’s eyes opened, the sun blinding.

  A shadow covered his face and he groaned as he was poked with the sharp end of a stick.

  “It’s bad to sleep in the sun,” a familiar voice said.

  Finn sat up as Coen leaned over and handed him a leather bladder full of cool water.

  “Too much sun makes you sick,” he continued, watching the fae gulp down mouthfuls of liquid.

  “I didn’t plan on it. Drew hit me with a shovel.”

  Coen reached into his pocket and pulled out a brown and white feather. He twirled it in his fingers, then held it out to the fae. “For you.”

  Finn knew better than to refuse a gift from Coen, so he took the feather and poked the end into one of his dreadlocks. “Did you see Drew?”

  He nodded. “He digs like a dingo.”

  “He is a dingo.” Finn rubbed his throbbing temple. “Did you see what he was carrying?”

  “Looked like a tucker bag to me…” Coen replied. “A magic tucker bag.”

  A tucker bag was a bag, sometimes made out of hessian or oiled leather, designed to carry food, but Drew’s bag didn’t have anything edible in it.

  “Did you see where he buried it?”

  “No,” he replied. “That’s not important right now. You shouldn’t lay in the sun. Had to wake you up before you dried out.”

  “Of course, it’s important,” Finn complained. “Drew stole something from the Dust Dogs and I want to know what it is.” Drew’s magic tucker bag contained something bad, it had to.

  Coen shrugged, not bothered by it. “Water is more important to you right now.”

  “It’s why they’re harassing Solace,” Finn argued. “They tried to intimidate Vera. They trashed the Outpost.”

  “They tried, but they didn’t win.”

  “This time,” the fae grumbled. “What about your spirits?”

  “There are spirits lingering in the outback,” Coen said. “You’ve felt them.”

  Finn nodded. He’d felt a lot of strange things since he come to Solace. It was a place of power that amplified his magic and gave him renewed life. Away from the link to his own world, he was a twisted shell, but no more. The witches had cast open their doors and he, like so many others, was reborn.

  Still, he was unable to return to his homeland, as it was with the other fae who’d found themselves in Solace. It was his duty to protect them, though he’d never asked for the responsibility. A dozen souls lost, abandoned, and living in the outback, scratching out a meagre living. It wasn’t much to be proud of, but at least they weren’t withered husks.

  “They’re not your questions to ask,” Coen added.

  “So, I’m supposed to let Drew go and do whatever he wants?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if the Dust Dogs come back and harass my camp?”

  Coen pointed to the feather. “It won’t matter. She’ll fly like Bunjil.” He drew a line in the dirt with his big toe, then a circle to one side and another two lines, both vertical to the first.

  Finn studied the crude drawing and thought it looked like t
wo people facing off over something underground. The seal.

  “Who is it?” he asked, not liking where this was going.

  “Don’t know,” Coen replied. “It’s a warning…or a bit of advice. Could be both.”

  “But you said ‘she’.”

  Coen smiled and leaned over, picking up the death adder. It’d curled down Finn’s leg while they’d been ‘arguing’ and had slithered over to the Indigenous man. He didn’t seem bothered by the danger the snake’s bite held as he stroked its scales.

  “You worry too much,” he said to the fae. “It’ll give you a headache.”

  Finn rubbed his already throbbing temple and scowled. Coen never made any sense.

  “Whatever. I’m going.” He took the snake back and began to walk away.

  “Where are you going?” Coen called. “Water is the other way.”

  “I’m going to look for Drew’s magic tucker bag.”

  “You won’t find it!”

  Finn scowled and ignored him, wandering off into the outback.

  He searched for Drew’s trail until the sun went down, but he never found a trace of the dingo or his loot.

  The only thing he returned with was Coen’s feather.

  Chapter 8

  The darkness was absolute as Eloise coughed, the sound of falling pebbles and dirt echoing through the collapsed mine.

  She was alive.

  “Kyne?” A heavy weight pressed over her, and she coughed again.

  “I’m here,” came his voice from above.

  He moved against her as he fumbled in the dark, and a moment later, a light switched on. It didn’t reveal a promising picture of their predicament, so Eloise tried not to look.

  He was covered in dirt and his hardhat had fallen off like hers had—she could see one glowing white in the rubble beside them.

  Kyne flicked the torch around and held it between them. “Are you all right?” He reached up with his free hand and she flinched.

  “Wait.”

  His fingers stopped a hairsbreadth from her cheek, and he frowned.

  “I…” She swallowed hard. He’d already touched her when he’d thrown himself on top of her body to shield her from the collapsing celling. Her eyes searched his for the telltale sign of hatred or forgetfulness, but she didn’t find them.

  It was the closest she’d been to another person and her heart hammered. Why wasn’t he affected?

  Kyne looked around, angling the torch so he could see.

  “Well,” he said, “we’re trapped pretty good.”

  “If you’re trying to reassure me, you’re failing.” She drew in a deep breath, the air already feeling stale.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out.”

  She scowled, beginning to become uncomfortable with his weight pressing into her. Why was she always so afraid of the one thing she longed for the most? If she could touch Kyne without him losing it, then what did that make him?

  Her eyes widened as he looked up at the crumbled rock. Was he…? He had magic. He had to.

  “Can you get your arm free?” he asked. “I need you to hold the torch.”

  “I think so.” She wriggled, dragging her right arm out from where it was pinned between him and the wall. Rock dug into the side of her hand, drawing blood, but she reached up and grasped the torch.

  “Aim it up,” he told her. As the torch lit up the jagged slab of rock, he assessed the situation. “Promise me one thing?”

  “It depends,” Eloise replied.

  “Don’t panic.”

  “I think we already passed that point.”

  “Promise.”

  Her bottom lip trembled but she nodded. She was already beginning to feel claustrophobic.

  Kyne took a deep breath, closing his eyes, but when he opened them, they burned a deep mottled ochre that glowed in the half-light.

  Eloise didn’t have to worry about panicking; she was too shocked to react as he pushed his back against the rock. His weight slowly lifted from her body as he hauled the tonnes of debris off them, his face turning red with effort.

  The rock cracked and fused, melding back into the tunnel. Pebbles and dust rained down as he reached out his hands and pushed the wall back into place. The stone clicked together like pieces of a puzzle, letting air back in.

  Daylight filtered down the darkened tunnel as the mine settled back into place. It was still a mess, but the largest slab was once again above them, fused by whatever power Kyne had unleashed.

  He let out a long breath and looked down at her, the glow in his eyes subsiding until they were back to normal.

  Eloise lay on the ground for a long moment, staring at him in shock. So that’s how he’d dug so deep on his own.

  “I think that’s enough work for today,” he finally said, holding out his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Eloise looked at his outstretched hand and remained frozen to the spot. Her fingers ached to touch someone, to connect with another person, but she was afraid.

  “You won’t hurt me,” he murmured. “You can’t.”

  He knew. Eloise sat and shook her head, dust flying out of her hair. It seemed the time for pretences had passed.

  “How can you be so sure?” she asked, her voice wavering.

  He smiled. “Because you’re like me.”

  “You’re what…?”

  “Just take my hand.”

  Taking a deep breath, she reached up and took Kyne’s hand…and for the first time in years, she felt another person’s skin press against her own.

  Eloise and Kyne sat in the shade of the lean-to, drinking beer and looking out across the scrub.

  She was numb and exhausted. The cave-in had rattled her in more ways than she could count. The beer helped, but she wasn’t getting much of a buzz from it.

  Finally, she worked up the courage to start asking questions. “What are you?”

  “I’m an elemental,” Kyne replied. “Well, half-human, half-elemental.” He sipped his beer, his fingers crinkling the aluminium.

  Elemental. She’d never heard of one before. “What did you do down there?”

  “I shaped rock.” He shrugged. “It has its limitations. I won’t be able to do that for a while now. Actually, I’m surprised I was able to do it at all.”

  “Now you tell me,” she muttered.

  “I wanted to see how you reacted to the opal before I said anything,” he admitted. “But I didn’t count on that happening.”

  “Your mine caved in on our heads!” Eloise turned and glared, shaking her shirt. “I’m still wearing half of it!”

  He wiped his sweaty brow, smearing dirt. “I didn’t want to put you in any danger. I wanted to… It was to help you, but not like that.”

  “Help me what? Discover what I am by dumping a slab of rock on my head?” She threw her hands into the air, spilling some of her beer.

  “You’re an elemental, Eloise. I know it. I can see it.”

  “How can you be sure what I am? I’ve never done what you just did. My eyes don’t glow.”

  “It wasn’t me who stopped that rock from crushing us. I got us out, but it was you who gave us a chance.”

  Her expression fell.

  “That’s not all. You have no knowledge of your birth parents, you’re solitary, you sense things, you’re exceptionally talented with opal, you don’t like to be touched.” He rattled off a list of traits like he’d been compiling a dossier on her.

  “How do you know all of this?” she demanded.

  “Wally suspected you were supernatural when you first met him,” Kyne admitted. “He wasn’t sure, so Vera tried to get a vision from you. You wouldn’t let her touch you, so Hardy—”

  “What?” She blinked. “You’ve been watching me?”

  “Erm…” Kyne lifted his hat and scratched his head. “Solace is another story. We had to be sure before we said anything.”

  “Sure of what?”

  “Your intentions.”

  “I have no i
ntentions. I just want to be left alone.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  Eloise downed the last of her beer and tossed the can into the esky. “I’ve been searching my whole life trying to explain the things I can do and found nothing. Why now?”

  Kyne shrugged. “Maybe you just came close enough to Solace to be attracted to it. It was the same with all of us. The concentration of supernaturals is like a beacon…or at least, that’s what we think.”

  “Is that how you came to be here?”

  “I suppose so.” He rested his forearms on his knees and squinted towards the horizon. “I wandered from city to town, job to job. Never staying anywhere long enough to settle. I couldn’t. I was always restless.”

  She looked him over. “Was?”

  “It comes and goes.”

  “And the others? What are they?”

  Kyne didn’t hesitate. “Wally is a werewolf. Vera’s a witch. Drew is a shapeshifter. Finn’s a fae. There’s a fae camp out in the scrub where they live. ‘Bout six of them.”

  So many. “Blue?”

  “Human.”

  “What about Coen?”

  “Coen is special…even amongst us,” he replied. “He’s something like a medium, but I doubt anyone could explain his abilities as being any one gift.”

  “Hardy?”

  “Vampire.”

  Eloise sucked in a sharp breath and ran her fingers through her gritty hair. She wasn’t surprised, even though until now all these creatures had been purely fiction. Magic had touched her, so why not others?

  “And I’m like you,” she murmured. “Elemental.” She still didn’t know what it meant. There was no legend to go along with what she was.

  “We call ourselves Exiles. Some of us are lost and others are outcasts.”

  Outcasts… It was a fitting description of what she’d become.

  Kyne shifted next to her. “You’re afraid to touch people. Why?”

  She said nothing. Flexing her fingers, she picked at the graze on the side of her hand.