Vera’s house was unique, not just because it was an old opal mine. It was full of her witch things—drying herbs, crystals, mystical artwork, daggers, books, and an altar. He’d never been into the other rooms before, preferring not to know.
“I’m making a special brew,” she continued. “It’s made from…”
Her voice seemed to fade away as he studied the lounge, his gaze falling on a dirty duffle bag and a pair of worn work boots. Drew.
Kyne’s lip curled as Vera came in holding a steaming mug. The words ‘Blessed Be’ were written on the side in a swirling font. “Here,” she said. “This will calm your nerves.”
The Dust Dogs had let out Wally, Kyne was sure of it—there was no other explanation—and they were sniffing around Solace because of Drew and whatever he stole from them.
Vera followed his gaze and sighed, then set down the tea. “He hasn’t been back since I threw some potatoes at him a few days ago.”
“He won’t get far without his boots.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about his feet,” she said wryly. “No sense, no feeling.” She nudged his arm. “Drink your tea. It tastes like chocolate. You’ll like it.”
Chocolate and magic. “No thanks.”
“Kyne.”
Eloise was out there, probably frightened out of her mind. It wouldn’t take much for her to get turned around. The outback didn’t discriminate. Once the sun rose—
“I’m going out there.” He stood, but Vera grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.
“No, you’re not. Hardy’s got this. If anyone can find them, it’s him.”
They hadn’t been there long when there was a hammering at the front door. Kyne was on his feet in an instant, striding down the hall.
It was Hardy, propping up an exhausted and dirty Wally, but he didn’t look happy.
Kyne’s heart sank. There was no sign of Eloise, but Hardy dragged Wally inside, the old mechanic naked as the day he was born.
Vera let out a little yelp and rushed to fetch a blanket. She wrapped the old wolf up tight, set him in a chair, and handed the mug of tea she’d tried to force down Kyne’s throat to him instead.
“Anything?” Kyne asked.
“There was no sign of her,” the vampire replied.
Vera looked troubled. “Nothing?”
“I was teaching her how to use her powers,” Kyne said. “She must’ve used them to escape.”
Hardy shook his head. “Whatever she did, it covered her tracks. There wasn’t even a scent.”
“I shouldn’t have been able to get out,” Wally said. “That shaft was ten metres deep.”
“Unless someone sunk a shaft in at the other end,” Kyne said.
Vera gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Do you think it was the Dust Dogs?”
“Who else could it be?” Hardy asked.
“It doesn’t matter who did what,” Kyne snapped. “Eloise is missing.”
“She won’t get far without water,” Wally said, wringing his hands.
“That’s if the Dust Dogs don’t find her first,” Vera said. “But they’re not the only things that live out there. If she crosses paths with a kadaitcha—”
“We can’t rely on what-if’s,” Kyne interrupted. “Can you scry for her?”
Vera shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure it’ll work.”
As the witch gathered her tools, Wally began to sob, the old mechanic distraught.
“I never meant to hurt anyone,” he muttered. “Never. If something happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Kyne placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You’re not yourself when you change.”
Vera rolled out a geological survey map of the Solace area on the coffee table and set some candles and quartz crystals on the corners to hold it flat.
“Nobody say anything. I need to concentrate,” she warned.
She held up a long silver chain and on the end was a wire-wrapped chunk of polished boulder opal. Kyne felt the stone’s vibrations but said nothing, letting Vera work.
The witch held it over the map with her other hand palm out. As she closed her eyes and focused, a pool of purple magic began to form on the map and tracked around the township of Solace, following the wobbly lines of the geological survey.
They watched, Wally leaning forwards keenly, hoping Vera’s magic would guide them in the right direction.
After about ten minutes, the magic hadn’t moved past Solace and Vera dropped her hands with a sigh. The purple glow faded and she shook her head.
“It’s like she’s here, but not. Like…” she frowned, “like she’s beyond.”
“Beyond what?” Kyne asked.
“Life.”
His expression fell. “She’s—”
“No, she’s not dead, just somewhere else. Somewhere beyond the reach of my magic.”
“Well, I refuse to believe it,” Hardy said. “Her powers have the potential to alter perception. That’s all this is.”
“I don’t know how she went through life not knowing,” Vera said with a shake of her head.
“She knew enough to figure out it was her touch that altered people’s perceptions,” Kyne told her. “Give her some credit.”
“We need to organise a search party,” Wally muttered, Vera’s tea sending him a little loopy. “Work in grids in the direction she took off in.”
“Agreed. I’ll go and speak to Finn,” Hardy said. “We’re going to need all the hands we can get. It ain’t over until we lay eyes on her.”
“I’m coming with you,” Vera said. “Just let me get changed first.”
“No,” Kyne said. “Stay here and look after Wally.”
The witch pouted and almost stamped her foot. “Why? She’s my friend too, you know.”
“I know, but you just drugged the poor guy.”
She looked at Wally and groaned. “Oh no. It wasn’t supposed to do that.”
“Phone Blue, would you?” Wally drawled. “He oughta know.”
Vera grabbed Kyne’s arm. “Are you sure? My magic isn’t totally useless.”
“She went east,” he murmured.
She paled. “If she went that way, there isn’t water for hundreds of kilometres.”
He grimaced as his hands began to shake. “If we don’t find her by tomorrow afternoon…”
A tear slipped from Vera’s eye. “Then you better hurry.”
With the sun, came the heat.
Eloise dragged her feet, her lips dry. Her head spun and nausea had already set in. She was hungry, tired, and thirsty. How long could a person last out here without water before it was all over? Maybe a day at best.
Letting out a strangled cry, she fell to the dry, baked earth, the sand and grit searing her bare legs. She was sunburnt, and the longer she was outside, every little bit of exposed skin reddened further.
People really weren’t being overly pessimistic when they warned travellers about being prepared for the outback; it really was that cut and dry. What a way to find out. Running from a werewolf, no less.
She felt the weight of the stone Kyne had given her in her pocket. We can only manipulate what’s already there. What if… There had to be a water table out here; otherwise, how were the trees growing?
Eloise placed her palms on the ground and willed water to rise. Her heart leapt as a muddy puddle began to form. It was working, but it was a scant few drops thick with grit.
Cursing, she wet her fingers and sucked on them anyway. It was better than nothing, and even the slightest damp soothed her dry lips and lifted her spirits.
Pushing to her feet with renewed energy, Eloise continued her slow, painful march. If she didn’t, she was as good a dead. Maybe there’d be more water up ahead…or maybe she wasn’t that far from Solace after all.
Grit seemed to get into every crevasse, even when she didn’t touch anything. It stuck to her lips, chafed her thighs, buried into her boots, and even ground against her teeth.
She was certain she smelt like something rank, sweat dripping down her spine as the sun wrung her of every last drop of moisture in her body. Eloise was beyond caring about her hygiene. Her heels rubbed painfully against the inside of her boots, her throat burned, and she was sure she was beginning to see things hidden in the trees. Eyes. Shadows. Monsters.
She dragged her boots through the shifting red dirt, dirt that was beginning to feel more like sand underfoot. Tripping on a rock, she stumbled and fell to her knees, landing with a strangled cry.
Sobbing, she dragged her battered and bruised body into the thready shade of a wind beaten tree.
I’ll just rest here for a while, she thought. Wait for the sun to go down.
Her eyes drooped as she struggled to stay awake, but she was fighting a losing battle.
The mountain reared above her, black and unnatural. Blobs of volcanic rock piled high, the air throbbed with pulsing energy.
“Water,” she croaked, scraping her palms on the ground. “Water…”
The earth remained bone dry, the mountain baring down on her.
Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed. At least she found answers before it all ended.
At least she had that.
Chapter 13
Hands clapped in front of Eloise’s face. “Wake up.”
Her eyes snapped open and she groaned, her senses dulled.
A weathered face framed by wiry grey hair looked down at her, the stranger’s blue eyes shining with annoyance.
“Water,” Eloise managed to whisper. “I need water.”
The face disappeared and she tried to lift her groggy head, but it felt like her skull was crammed full of cotton wool. Her throat was dry and raw.
Cool ceramic pressed against Eloise’s lips and she felt the first drops of precious water hit her tongue. She gulped, swallowing so fast she began to cough.
“Slow,” the stranger said. “Make yourself sick.”
“Who are you?” Eloise managed to rasp. Looking up, she saw an old woman with long, silver hair tied in a messy plait that hung over her shoulder. Her clothes—a simple blueish dress that fell to her knees and a long-sleeved cream cardigan that was stained burnt orange—were similarly worn as the skin on her face, but her eyes held a sparkle that betrayed more than age.
“I am Andante.”
“Andante… Is that Italian?”
“It’s the name I gave myself,” the woman told her. “No one alive knows my true name. What do they call you?”
“Eloise. Eloise Hart.”
Andante narrowed her eyes and scrutinised her with a fierce scowl. “Hart, but no brains. What were you thinking coming out here with no water or food? Stupid.”
“Believe me, I know,” she drawled. “I was chased.”
“Chased?” Her eyes narrowed and she turned to refill Eloise’s cup from a pail of water.
Now sense had begun to return to her, Eloise looked around at where she lay. The walls were rough rock, fading through oranges and yellows, but held no sign of mining. There were no pick marks, no props, no electricity, no paint. The floor was hard stone, uneven and warm to the touch. The mattress beneath her was lumpy and firm in places, and completely uncomfortable.
“Where am I?”
“Home,” the woman replied, handing her the cup. “What chased you?”
“I, uh…” Eloise sipped, careful to drink slow this time. “I’m not sure you’d believe me.”
“Look around,” Andante said. “I believe more than you do.”
She looked again, seeing a cave, not a mine. A fire, a bed of leaves, and… Runes on the walls. Her gaze shifted back to the old woman.
“Open your eyes, Eloise Hart. All three of them, then you will see.”
“A werewolf,” she blurted. “A werewolf chased me, but he didn’t mean it.”
Andante snorted.
“I— My—” She frowned and wondered what exactly the people of Solace were to her. Who Kyne was to her. “They’ll be looking for me. The people from Solace.” At least she hoped so.
“They won’t find,” Andante told her. “We are hidden here, folded away in a pocket of space and time.”
Her eyebrows rose. Fair enough. Who was she to argue? Stranger things had happened lately.
“The people here call it the Dreaming,” Andante added. “A pretty name.”
“What is it exactly?”
“It is a place where time does not exist. Where all is spirit and nature, and existence is one.”
Her thoughts went to Coen and his walkabout, and Kyne and his short, but informative lessons on being an elemental. Did that mean Eloise was connected to the Dreaming? Maybe that was the gift their elemental parents had granted her and Kyne. To not just shape the physical, but to connect with memory. The memory of the earth, the animals, and everything that tied it together. Did he know? Did he understand?
“You travel close to the spirits,” Andante told her. “They sense you. They follow.”
“I-I saw a shadow in the night.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Kadaitcha.”
“Kadaitcha? You mean a shapeshifter?”
“No. Shapeshifters are humanoid. Kadaitcha were never anything like that.” She snorted. “Evil creatures. Shadows that shift and change.”
“What about the lights?”
“Lights?”
“I saw three yellow lights in the night. They… It seemed like they wanted me to follow.”
“Ah, the Min Min.” Andante nodded. “That’s what people call them in the south. Names hold power, and so all call them that now. Knowledge spreads like the wind. Sprites, they are.”
“Are they like spirits?”
“Something like that.”
Eloise wondered if they were spirit creatures, rather than what was left over of humans. Maybe they were the souls of animals. Who knew? Andante didn’t seem to think they were important.
“Fate or stupidity brought you here, Eloise Hart,” she went on, “but it doesn’t matter which. You dream and you come…eventually.” She clucked her tongue and pouted.
“Dream?” Eloise blinked and reached for more water. “I don’t understand.”
“Stupidity, then.”
“I may not know much, but I’m not stupid,” she huffed.
“That remains to be seen.” Andante held up her hand as Eloise went to argue. “Listen closely, girl, for I will have to send you back before you dry out.”
“Send me back?” she asked, but the mysterious old woman wasn’t listening.
“They will try and open it, and others will come in their wake.”
“Open what?”
“The seal,” Andante replied with a frustrated scowl. “He buried their key and if they figure out what it unlocks… I believe the word is ‘calamity’.”
“A key? To what?”
She swept her arm wide, gesturing to the walls of the cave. “Did you know this whole area was once a coral reef?”
Eloise nodded. “Yeah. Millions of years ago, though. It’s why there’s opal here.”
“After the reef rose out of the ocean, the land was covered in rivers, then it all dried up. The land moves, you know. It lives.”
“It lives? Like…literally?” Eloise frowned, not understanding a word Andante was saying. What did this have to do with anything?
“A spirit older than the universe once dwelt here. A spirit older than the stars who shaped the land. The ocean had a heart, long ago.”
“I…” She clutched the cup against her chest, wondering if she’d gone past the weird and wonderful world of the supernatural and landed in full blown crazy. Andante seemed like she was a hermit, living in a cave on the fringes of the fridges of society, scratching runes on the walls and spouting prophetic nonsense. “I just want to go back to Solace.”
“Good. You should go, but I’d lie back if I were you.”
Eloise wasn’t in a position to argue, so she did as she was told. She was grateful for the woman’s h
elp, but out of all her travels, she was the strangest person she’d ever met.
Andante leaned over and smiled. “Beware, Eloise Hart. More will come. The Dreaming is not a place to go unprotected.” Then she clicked her fingers and everything went dark.
Eloise woke with a start, her head rising.
A pair of small, brown eyes peered at her and she cried out. The kangaroo simply stared at her, its whiskers twitching.
She was lying beneath the same tree she’d collapsed underneath, her entire body aching. A tuft of vicious, barbed spinifex grass was an inch from her nose. Running her tongue over her lips, she found them dry and chapped, a fine layer of grit over her front teeth.
Groaning, she pushed herself up and wiped at the dirt pressed into her cheek as the kangaroo leaned back on its rope-like tail and waited.
Had she really met Andante? Was the woman a hallucination brought about by heat stroke and dehydration? Probably.
Still, the kangaroo was rather friendly for a wild animal. This far away from civilisation, they didn’t have any tolerance for humans.
Eloise pushed to her knees, her entire body a painful mixture of aches and sunburn. The kangaroo hopped a few paces away, then paused and looked over its shoulder at her, waiting.
“You want me to follow you?” she asked, her voice cracking.
The kangaroo jumped again and looked back at her.
She had nothing to lose. The sun was going down and she was still alive, so while she had some strength left, she’d keep trying. Maybe the kangaroo had been drawn by her elemental power. Or maybe it was just another mirage born out of delirium come to haunt her last moments. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Her boots dragged in the dirt as she followed the kangaroo, but no matter how slow she went, it stopped and waited for her to catch up.
The sun began to set, the first stars shining through the light-drenched atmosphere, but she hardly saw them. Her vision was slipping, her blood whooshing in her ears like a tornado.
Coldness throbbed in her fingertips and spread through her limbs, and no matter how close she clutched her shirt, it didn’t stave off the chills that wracked her body. Her internal organs were beginning to seize, her life slipping away. Still, the kangaroo led her, waiting and lingering as she followed.
Outback Spirit Page 12
