| |
The alley ran between the two buildings to a bus loading zone out back. Based on the signs, it was where we should wait if we wanted to go sand boarding.
I searched for any trace of my stalker, but no one was there. I was, however, getting a major case of déjà vu from the ferry. It seemed the man in the felt hat could vanish the second I took my eyes off him.
I ventured into the loading zone, searching about in case he’d ducked behind one of the bins out back. My search turned up no trace of him, and I found myself staring up the sloping sand dunes into the national park. If he had disappeared into that area, he could have gone anywhere. The park was literally dozens of square kilometers filled with nothing but sand and trees, and about a million places one could hide.
My heart pounded as I paced back and forth, considering my next move.
Clearly, I hadn’t just been imagining things on the ferry. He had been watching me, but why? And who was he?
The way he had vanished made me wonder if he was Sidhe. When I’d first met Naerine and her followers, they had been hiding in plain sight, concealed by glamours. Alasdair had forced them to reveal themselves, but that wasn’t going to do me any good here. Standing here threatening to burn down a forest was going to make me look insane, or get me arrested if I was caught by a normal.
I groaned. Glamours and illusions were something I hadn’t covered in my training. I was going to have to make that a priority. Otherwise, I couldn’t trust my own eyes. My stalker had looked like a human man, absent the fine, slender features of a Sidhe, but then if he was using a glamour, he could be anyone.
Or anything.
I swallowed. There were many creatures from beyond the Veil that employed glamours to deceive humans. Most of them were every bit as deadly as the Sidhe.
I abandoned my pursuit. Whoever or whatever was watching me, I had no idea where they had gone, and I wasn’t game to wander into the national park alone. For all I knew, it could be a trap to lure me away from the safety of the crowds.
I made my way back down the alley to the promenade, breathing heavily the whole way. It took me a minute to find my discarded things. I slipped them back onto my feet. A few of the passers-by looked at me funny, probably because it looked like I was stealing someone else’s footwear.
“Way to go, Nora, total bogan.”
I found a change room and slid into my swimmers, before pulling the summer dress back over my head. The little detour had taken far longer than I’d expected, but I made my way back to the pool where I’d left my family. Opening the gate, I did a quick double check to see if I was being observed again.
I saw no obvious tail, though I did spot Sleet lounging about on the shades sail, his eyes glued to one of the mobile snack carts that was selling glazed donuts.
My mother was in one of the sun lounges, her head tilted back, her eyes closed as if she was dozing. Beside her, Shay occupied a second lounge. She had her book out and was reading. She was well into her umpteenth read of the Harry Potter series and was working her way through The Half-Blood Prince. I suspected if she tried, she could make a host of new friends here. The convention certainly seemed well attended with simply hundreds of would-be wizards roaming the island.
“Mum!” Conor shouted as he raced toward the pool.
He jumped, tucking his knees tight to his chest before hitting the water with a massive cannonball. Water went everywhere. Some of the spray even managed to reach Shay.
“Hey,” she called, looking up from her book, “cut that out.”
Conor broke the surface, laughing, before paddling back to the side of the pool. “Did you see that, Mum?”
“Sure did, that was a good one,” I called as I made my way over.
“Are you coming in?” he shouted, the hope evident in his voice.
“Just a minute, dear,” I replied as I sat down on the edge of Shay’s lounge. “Apart from the splashing, how are you doing, Shay?”
“It’s ok,” she replied. She was still absorbed in her book, but this wasn’t like her. She had always been quiet, except when she was with her friends, but this was something else. She seemed withdrawn.
She’d been like this ever since her encounter with the Red Cap which only served to compound the worry and the guilt I was feeling.
“Is there anything I can get you? A drink and ice cream?” I offered quietly enough that Conor wouldn’t overhear and get distracted.
She shook her head. “I’m okay, thanks.”
Something was up. Shay never turned down ice cream. She didn’t seem particularly talkative either, so I resolved to try again later.
“Well, I’ll see what I can do about the splashing in the meantime.” I stood up and peeled off my dress, ready for a swim.
“Good luck,” she replied. “That’s the fifth or sixth bomb dive since we got here.”
“I know, sweetie; he’s just having fun, and so should you. I was thinking we could rent some quad bikes after lunch, go on a tour of the island?”
“I’ll think about it,” she replied. It wasn’t a no, so I took it as a win and joined Conor in the pool.
Conor and I swam and splashed. I did my best to control the collateral damage, but it had been so long since he’d had a swim he got pretty carried away, and I let him. The kids needed to blow off steam; we all did. We’d been through a lot these past few weeks.
It was a little after midday when we got out of the pool. The sun overhead was blazing hot, and I realized we hadn’t remembered the sunscreen. If we left it too much longer, we would spend the next few days looking like ripe tomatoes and that would make for a far less pleasant trip.
“All right, that’s it for me,” I said, heading for the edge. “How about we go grab some lunch?”
“But I want to stay in here,” Conor replied, kicking his way into the middle of the pool.
“Lunch sounds pretty good,” Shay answered. “What are we having?”
“Well, I did promise you Japanese,” I replied. “But I figured if we grab something quick and easy instead, we can go for a ride then do Japanese for dinner when we get back. There is also wild dolphin feeding right around dusk so we could do that too.”
“Sounds good,” Shay replied, her attention drifting back to the book.
“Can’t we stay here?” Conor called from the middle of the pool.
“Not if we want to ride the quad bikes,” I called back. “So if you want to do that, you better get dry pronto.”
The chance to ride something with an engine was enough motivation for him to listen, and he swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out.
A group of kids walked past the pool and down to the beach. I recognized them as the football team from earlier.
I wrapped my towel around me and placed a hand on Shay’s shoulder. “No matter what happens, you need to stick with me or Gran. Don’t go wandering off around the island on your own.”
“Yes, Mum,” she replied on autopilot.
“I mean it, Shay. Not on your own and not with any strangers. No matter how cute they might be.”
Shay blushed and pushed my hand away. “Mum, you’re embarrassing me.”
“I’m your mother—that’s my job,” I replied as I stood up and finished drying off so I could put my dress back on. “Who’s ready to eat?”
The kids let out a chorus of me’s but it was the high pitched one from overhead that got my attention.
“Nice of you to join us, Sleet. Have we finished our tantrum?” I said.
“What tantrum?” Sleet asked. The little fairy wasn’t being deceptive. He likely didn’t even remember what he was upset about. He seemed to have a short attention span, which if the Otherworld journal was on point, was somewhat common for fairies.
Mom finally roused from her nap.
“Lunch sounds good,” she said. “Did I hear you say something about sushi earlier?”
“Yeah, but given it’s a restaurant rather than a sushi train, I was figuring that perhaps we do that for dinner instead. Why don’t we grab something from the cafe and then see if we can hire some of those bikes?”
That compromise seemed to work for everyone, so we did a quick lunch on the go: a meat pie for me, some sausage rolls for the kids, and Mom had a toasted ham and cheese sandwich. Polishing off the easy meal, we headed back to the main building of the resort and found the concierge’s desk.
It was staffed by a young man in his early thirties with sandy colored hair, khaki slacks, and a blue polo with the resort’s logo on it.
“Hi, I’m Nora,” I said. “I was wondering how I go about hiring some quad bikes for the afternoon?”
He flashed me a thousand-watt smile. “Hi Nora, I’m Barry. Our next tour leaves at three o’clock, so you’d have a little wait ahead of you, but that gives us plenty of time to get everyone geared up. If I can grab a few details off you, I’ll get you all sorted.”
“Oh, I was hoping we could do a little exploring ourselves. I have the kids with me, and we’d like to take things at our own pace. We don’t need a guide. It’s an island, after all. Only so far we can go.”
Barry nodded. “Yeah, but there are a hundred and eighty square kilometers to get lost in. If you run out of fuel somewhere, it could be a heck of a long walk home.”
I reached into my wallet and pulled out a crisp, green, one-hundred dollar note.
“Then perhaps you could make sure the tanks are full,” I replied, acting as though he’d already agreed to lending us the bikes. It was a simple form of persuasion, but it worked more often than not.
Barry grinned as he palmed the note and slid it into his pocket.
“I’m sure I can rustle up a few bikes. Meet me out the back of the building in twenty minutes and we’ll get you geared up.” He looked at the four of us. “So, two bikes riding double?”
I considered whether or not I was ready for Shay and Conor to be driving. I weighed their age and experience against the fact everything was going to be on sand, which could be treacherous if they weren’t ready for it.
“We’ll take the two this time,” I replied. “If things go well, we might let them take their own out tomorrow.”
The caution seemed to go down well with Barry, who I expected was a little concerned for the hotel’s insurance policy and had little desire for extra paperwork.
We raced up to the unit and changed out of our wet gear, opting for something with a little bit more coverage to protect against the sun. I also drowned Mom and the kids in sunscreen, as we could be out for a few hours.
We managed to get back to the resort’s main office right as Barry and another hotel staff member arrived outside, rolling in on two quad bikes with four helmets balanced on their handlebars.
Barry jumped off and pointed to the bikes. “Your chariots await. I’ve got your room details, so the rental and fuel will be charged to the card we have on file. I recommend you head up the hill and turn right at the fork. That’ll take you through the interior of the island, where you can explore to your heart’s content.
“At the next crossroads, heading straight will take you to the eastern shores. Right will leave you at the Dune Sea where we do all the sand boarding, but you’ll likely get bogged down if you venture out there. Save that for another day.
“If you head left, that’ll take you up the side of the island to Fort Cowan and the World War II gun emplacements. It’s one of the most beautiful beaches you’ll see in your life. A nice, easy ride. You’ve got more than enough fuel in the tanks to get there and back with a little extra for good measure.”
“Barry, you have outdone yourself,” I replied as I eyed the bikes. “I’ll double Conor. Shay, ride with Gran.”
I jumped on the bike Barry had been riding, and Conor got on behind me. I couldn’t help but notice Mom put Shea up front on hers.
My mother noticed my judgmental eyes and cut me off at the pass. “The girl has gotta learn to drive some time.”
Shay was smiling, so I thought better about telling them off. “Just take it easy until you get used to things, okay?”
We put on our helmets. I was just about to kick over the quad, when Barry appeared beside me.
“Here, let me,” he said, angling himself so he could start the quad.
Before he could, I stood up and kick started it myself. The bike roared to life, and Barry took a step back and flashed me a thumbs up. If nothing else, Alasdair would die of shame as my mentor if I still couldn’t start a bike after the last two weeks of training.
As the other employee approached Mom, she held him at bay. “I’ve got this, tiger,” she said as she kicked over the bike. “If I can’t start it now, how am I going to do it out there?”
It took two tries for her quad to fire up, but soon it roared to life.
Leaving Barry behind, we eased out of the undercover area. The quads had a little more go than I expected. I turned to see Shay’s bike lurching as she tried to get a feel for the throttle.
“Easy does it,” I called over my shoulder as I slowly climbed the sandy trail out of the resort.
Following Barry’s advice, we rolled up to the fork and turned right to head out across the island’s interior.
The first leg of the journey was quite steep, as we climbed the row of dunes behind the resort. When I looked back over my shoulder, there was a clear view over the top of the resort and out to the water. It was breathtaking but I couldn’t enjoy it for long, having to focus on the winding trail ahead of us. I made a note to stop here on the way back. There ought to be a spectacular view of the sunset.
To the indigenous people of the area, Moreton Island was known as Malgumpin, which meant the ‘place of sandhills’, and they’d nailed it. Even the path we took had quite the climb as we made our way through the middle of the island.
The national park enveloped us on all sides. There were scribbly gums and grass trees everywhere, hardy plants that could survive the sand and salt.
We rounded the next corner to find a bus bouncing down the slope toward us.
I panicked a little as I realized the path wasn’t wide enough for both of us.
A small easement led off to the left-hand side of the trail. I veered off to the side, and Mom and Shay coasted in behind me as the bus driver honked his appreciation.
The bus likely would be a load of tourists making their way back from sand boarding at the Dune Hills. The immense white sand hills could be a good sixty meters tall and using a waxed piece of board, you could slide down them at incredible speeds. It was the closest thing a Queenslander was ever going to get to tobogganing.
Snow was not a naturally occurring event in our state.
The bus bounced past us, and we pulled out onto the trail, resuming our journey eastward. We soon reached the crossroads Barry had mentioned, and following his advice, we continued straight ahead. Conor’s giddy whooping every time we went over a bump and got a little air reassured me he was having a good time. Shay was grinning as she taxied my mom around the island.
Comfortable that she’d found her zone on the bike, I veered left through the intersection, headed for the eastern beaches and Fort Cowan. With Moreton Island forming part of the seaway into Brisbane, it had been a natural point of fortification in World War II.
A gun emplacement hidden on the island could shell any vessels trying to trouble Australian shipping into Brisbane. While it hadn’t been common for Japanese vessels to make it this far south, it wasn’t unheard of either. An attack from Japanese submersibles had sunk vessels as far south as Sydney Harbor.
We tore along the sandy trail. The further we drove from the resort, the more comfortable I felt opening up on the gas. The quads had a fair bit of grunt to them, and it was becoming apparent to me that I had acquired a taste for riding. The time spent on Alasdair’s bike had given me an appreciation for them that I was only just starting to recognize.
Maybe I’ll have to get one of these for myself.
It would have to wait though. I didn’t want to burn through my cash reserves. Just because we weren’t on a shoestring budget at this second didn’t mean I could afford to be flippant with my funds. This holiday was the limit of my spending for the time being.
We made good time reaching Fort Cowan a little after three o’clock. As we rolled down the beach, the sun beat down in full force. I was grateful for the trees on the trail that had protected us from the worst of the heat, and now a pleasant breeze off the water made the ride a little less like riding a trike across the surface of the sun and more like a Sunday stroll through a pizza oven.
“How was that?” I asked, turning to the kids.
“So much fun,” Conor replied. “When can I drive?”
“Mmm. Maybe on the way back,” I said, stretching my legs as I made my way over to Shay. “Sharp driving, missy.”
“It was pretty fun,” she conceded.
I placed an arm around her. “You are in danger of having a good time, young lady.”
Sleet came streaking down out of the sky. He landed on my shoulder, huffing and puffing as he gathered his composure.
“Everything okay, Sleet?”
“Little cars, very fast. Sleet, very tired,” he said between pants.
I scooped him off my shoulder and popped him back in the loose pocket on the front of my sun dress.
“Just relax, buddy. Take a load off. You can ride back with us.”
“Good,” Sleet said as he teetered and sat down in the pocket.
Mom took us on a tour of the fort, recounting its history as best she knew it. At the time, she had actually been a child in Ireland. It was in the midst of the war that she had found her way into Faerie and the clutches of my father, the Winter King.
She was older than she appeared as, during her time there, she hadn’t aged. While she looked like any sixty-year-old woman, at times I had to remind myself she’d been alive for the better part of a century. By the time she had become pregnant with me, the war had long since ended and she’d emigrated to Australia to get as far as possible from the searching eye of Oberon.
She’d figured the heart of the southern hemisphere and Summer’s domain would be a far more viable place to safely hide a Winter scion.
I found it fascinating when she chose to share stories from her youth. To hear them from someone who had actually been there was better than reading them in a book. I’d learned more about my mother in the last two weeks than I had my entire life. With the truth of my identity shared between us, she had no reason to hide the rest of her story from me.
I watched, a smile on my lips, as she regaled the children with stories about her childhood in Ireland and her life in Cork. The kids had no idea just how old she was, and I figured it would be easier to explain that particular family secret when they got older.
We wandered all around the fort and then took a stroll down the beach. Here, less trafficked by human feet, there was an abundance of shells and crabs.
While we walked, I showed the kids how to identify yabby holes.
“When I was a girl, we’d hunt for yabbies,” I told them. “You spot the air bubbles coming up from one of these holes in the sand as the tide goes out. Then you would grab this steel pump, press it over the hole, and lift out a stack of sand. You shot it onto the beach and more often or not, there was a yabby in it.”
“What did you do with them?” Conor asked.
“Sometimes we’d use them as bait and fish with them. Other times we’d just let them go. It was more about the fun than anything else really. We didn’t have Nintendo in my day.”
“So you didn’t eat them?” Shay asked.
“No.” I laughed. “They’re too small. The freshwater varieties are a lot bigger. Those have a lot more meat to them.”
“Yabby, you say,” Sleet replied, rejoining the conversation, now that it was about one of his favorite topics.
“I don’t know if they would be sweet enough for you, Sleet, but crayfish can be delicious.”
“We must try them,” he said, holding up a finger. “Otherwise, we cannot know for certain.”
“Well, we don’t have a pump with us. But tonight, we’re doing Japanese so there will certainly be an abundance of seafood options. You can try some of those and see what you think. There will be plenty of fish, perhaps a scallop or two.”
“I like scallops,” Conor added. “Nice and crunchy.”
“Not those scallops,” Shay said.
Conor was referring to the potato scallops that formed a common side in every fish and chip shop of any substance. Deep-fried potato scallops were both cheap and delicious, and perfect for a mom on a budget. It wasn’t uncommon for us to get fish and chips with a couple of scallops thrown in for the kids.
Conor looked confused.
“It’s a slightly different scallop,” I said. “This one is out of the sea and not made from potato but still pretty good. If you like the texture.”
Conor nodded, but given his skeptical expression, I expected he would avoid them. He was slow to try new things.
“Only if you want to,” I added.
As the sun continued to head west, I decided it was time to start our journey back.
“Okay, saddle up, folks. Let’s get back to the resort.”
“Can I drive?” Conor asked.
I looked at the path and looked at him. It had been a bumpy ride over, but if he was willing to give it a try, I figured what harm could he do? It wasn’t like there was much other traffic on the trail. I just needed to make sure he didn’t wrap us around a tree.
“Sure thing, hon, you ride up front.”
He scooched up the front of the bike and put on his helmet. I slid on behind him, making sure I could reach the handlebars and both the throttle and brake just in case I needed to take corrective action.
We fired up the bikes and headed back up the beach on the trail. The wind turned, flowing up from the south. I could have sworn I detected a hint of a wood fire burning. It was a pleasant smell, one I rather enjoyed, though fireplaces were something of a rarity in Queensland.
Conor guided us up the trail and as we crested the first dune, a plume of smoke rose into the air before us.
Open fires in the national park were prohibited.
That didn’t mean people wouldn’t light them anyway, either intentionally or accidentally as someone disposed of a cigarette butt poorly.
Conor coasted along the trail, pulling on the throttle as we climbed the next dune.
No sooner had we crested it, than we came face-to-face with a wall of fire.