Fiona drove home that afternoon, more puzzled and frustrated than she’d ever been.
Her experiments with Holly turned up nothing. No matter which elemental affinity they used, both their Legacies continued to slide off the virus. Whatever it was, Fiona was starting to believe its origin was magical. Perhaps it came from an outside source, or maybe it was nature’s reaction to the prolonged channelling of the anomaly.
But whatever its origins, there was nothing they could do, other than watch and wait.
Parking in the driveway of her rented house, she retrieved the bucket from the back and set it on the front porch. There were still the experiments she had in the backyard. Maybe those had turned up a clue or two.
Carrying the bucket through the house and out back, she sighed. It’d only been a couple of days since Samantha’s funeral, and even though she knew it’d take a while for things to settle back down to their usual dull monotony, she longed for her silly job at the farm supplies store.
While battling corrupted spirits and freeing tormented souls sounded exciting, the reality was it sucked. What she wanted was routine—boring, normal, human routine.
She could tell Holly wanted to say something, but it was easier to make a joke than let her friend know the reality. Not only did possession suck, it also ruined her reputation. No one would want to hire her after she’d allegedly abandoned her last job, so why even try?
Inside her greenhouse, Fiona lifted the terracotta pot off the top of her first experiment. Upon seeing the black, goopy mess inside, she cursed. The plant hadn’t just deteriorated, it’d disintegrated.
Her worries forgotten, she cursed as she checked each sample. Each one of them had turned to black sludge. No trace of potato was left, not even a bit of skin or leaf.
Opening the lid on the bucket, she recoiled as the pungent stench of rot wafted out to meet her. Somewhere between Holly’s place and here, the last of the potato had turned to tar.
She’d have to go back to the farm and get another plant.
Fiona felt a little guilty as she got back into her Jeep. She was grateful for the mystery—it kept her mind from stewing over other stuff—but it wasn’t a good mystery to be solving. A plant disease like this could have devastating consequences.
The Jeep wound its way through the outer limits of the immediate town, then into the rural landscape that bordered the dense residential centre. Passing by a few industrial sites, the land gave way to a patch of dense bushland, before opening into rolling fields of potatoes, empty lots that would bloom with bright yellow canola in the spring, and several green pastures dotted with dairy cows and fluffy white sheep.
It was beautiful country, but her expression fell as she approached the dirt access road that ran through Ed Holland’s property.
Two large tractors charted a lazy course across the field, the drone of their engines rumbling loudly in the still air. Recognising the equipment attached to the machinery, she realised they were digging up the entire one-hundred-acre crop. It had to be at least two thousand tonnes of vegetables…
“Oh no,” she whispered as she turned off the highway and onto the dirt road.
Finding the place she’d parked the night before, she lingered, watching the machinery tear up the blighted crop. A mud splattered ute was parked by the side of the field, where a man leaned against the side, supervising the tractors.
She pursed her lips, knowing she had to go talk to him. Magic wasn’t getting her anywhere—which was a new concept—but maybe talking would reveal something she’d missed.
The moment Fiona got out of the Jeep, she was slapped in the face with the same rotting stench of flesh and gasoline she kept in the bucket back at her house. Pinching her nose, she picked her way across the grass.
An older man lingered by the ute, his hat tipped low. The knees of his blue jeans were caked in dirt, as were his Blundstone boots. White hair poked out around his ears, fighting against the brim of his camel-coloured hat.
A proud-looking black and brown kelpie sat to attention in the ute’s tray, watching the tractors, but barked as it heard her approach.
“Sally, heel,” the farmer muttered. As he turned, his weathered face dissolved into a scowl. “If you’re here to rubberneck, then—”
“I’m a… I’m a horticulturalist,” Fiona blurted. It wasn’t exactly a lie…well, maybe a little one. “I know a bit about plant viruses.”
“A horticulturalist, huh? You aren’t with the CSIRO, are you?”
“No?”
“Well, I called ‘em. Bastards can’t even be bothered to show up. You’d think this country’s biosecurity would be a priority.”
“It ought to be,” Fiona said. “That’s a hundred acres you’re digging up.”
“Ed Holland,” he said, holding out a weathered hand.
She shook it. “Fiona O’Riley.”
They stood for a moment, watching the tractors tear up the smelly field. Sally the dog sat in the ute's tray, content to wait for her owner’s command.
“I can’t understand what’s happening,” Ed told her. “I’ve had to destroy the entire crop, and now it looks like my canola field is contaminated.”
“Have you sewn there yet?”
“I was about to. It’s the right time of year, you know. But I went out this morning and found the whole potato crop withered into sludge. I treated the blight, but it didn’t help at all. And now, there across the fence, the soil feels greasy. It’s the darnedest thing. Hell if I know what’s going on.”
“Do you mind if I have a look?”
“At this point, love, I’m willing to try anything.” He nodded towards the fence line. “This way.”
When they reached the fence, Ed pressed his boot down on the lower wires and held up the top rows with a weathered hand. Fiona ducked through, her gaze raking across the tilled soil.
On first inspection, it didn’t look like anything was wrong. Thankfully, the smell of rotting potatoes drifted away as the wind picked up.
Kneeling at the edge of the tilled soil, Fiona dug her fingers into the rich earth. Her Legacy flared, stabbing her with sharp electricity, and she snatched her hand back.
“You’re right,” she said, trying to cover up her reaction. “It feels slimy.”
“I’ve farmed these fields for thirty years,” Ed told her. “Seen nothing like it. I’ve had blight and pests before, but this…” He shook his head. “This is new.”
“You didn’t change anything? Products? A different brand of fertiliser?”
“Nothing.”
She stood and wiped her dirty hand on her jeans. The soil had a greasiness to it—there wasn’t any doubt about that—but her Legacy shouldn’t have reacted, especially since she hadn’t reached for it at all.
Had it been warning her?
“I won’t be able to harvest anything this year,” Ed was saying. “That’s a lot of money down the drain. I do not know what I’m going to do.”
“I’m so sorry,” Fiona said. The farmer hadn’t asked for any proof of who she was or questioned her intentions. Maybe he was just glad he had someone to commiserate with.
“It ain’t your fault. Farming’s a tough life. If only drought and flood were our only worries.”
She looked back at the potato crop and the tractors. “Is anyone else having trouble? Or is it just you?”
“Just seems like me right now,” the farmer drawled. “I’m doing my best to contain it, but I don’t know. There’s a dairy farm ten kilometres over yonder that’s had cattle turn up all cut up.” He grimaced and tipped his hat. “Sorry to be so blunt, love. It’s a bit disgusting.”
“That’s okay.” She frowned at the mention of the livestock. “Cut up? You mean, mutilated?”
“Strange things are going on around Dunloe,” Ed mused as he wandered towards the fence. “Rare blight. Livestock turning up all hollow. The poor Dunnes. All those other families moving away. I’m not saying it’s all linked, but this town has been through enough.”
Fiona curled her lip, her stomach churning. Hollow cattle? How could she explain that one? UFOs? She shook her head in bewilderment as Ed held the fence up for her again.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any help,” she said as she ducked back through. “I’ve seen nothing like this, either.”
“Well, it was worth a look, I suppose. I’m at the end of my rope, love.”
Fiona felt awful for him. The loss of income alone would likely ruin a thirty-year legacy of farming. And to think it might be because of something they’d done was a bitter pill to swallow. Maybe the vortex had been plugging a hole in the anomaly all this time…but the cows? It was another thing she had to look into before jumping to an anomalous conclusion.
“I’ll keep looking into it,” Fiona told him. “If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”
“You know any of those scientist types at the CSIRO?”
She thought of Jin and his police connections. “I might know someone who knows someone.”
Ed tipped his hat. “Thanks, love. Take care now.”
Frowning, Fiona went back to the Jeep and closed herself away from the smell of rotting potatoes. She took out her phone and scrolled through her contact list, not that she had many names on it, and pressed the one at the bottom.
If she was going to investigate the dairy farm—which would likely involve trespassing—she would need backup.
The call connected. “Hello?”
“Hey, Patrick. It’s Fiona.”
“Hey. Any luck with your potato?”
“Not really, but it’s not exactly why I’m calling.” She looked back at the tractors and worried her bottom lip. “There’s a thing with the cows…”
* * *
Patrick stood beside Fiona in the middle of a grassy field, the night so black, even he was having trouble seeing.
“So, Ed Holland told you that the cow they found was hollow?”
“Yeah, the body has probably been moved, but…”
“You’re hoping for another one?” Patrick sighed. “Poor thing.”
“I don’t want any creature to needlessly die,” Fiona snapped. “But I don’t know what else to do. I’m not a scientist; I’m just a witch.”
“I’m fairly certain they’re both similar vocations.”
“Shh,” she hissed. “Can you smell anything?”
Patrick froze, sharpening his senses as he listened to the night. It was the last place he’d expected to find himself, but after Fiona’s call, how could he not accompany her?
She was trespassing on private property in the middle of the night, where strange things were mutilating eight-hundred-kilo bovines. He knew she was capable with her magic, and other things besides, but it would be lax of him to leave her to handle this on her own.
He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of wet grass, cow shit, and churned up earth.
“I don’t smell anything,” he said. Turning to the east, he inhaled again, this time picking up the faint traces of copper—the telltale signature of blood. “Wait…”
Following the scent, he led her across the pasture. It wasn’t long before he spotted a dark lump laying in the grass and it was a confronting sight, because this time, the gossip had truth to it.
The black and white dairy cow lay flat on its side, its face—
“Don’t look,” he said, but Fiona stepped around him.
“Oh…” She raised a hand to her nose as she saw the scene before her. “The poor thing.”
“Fiona—”
She held up a hand. “It’s okay. I need to check it over with my magic. Keep your eyes peeled, okay?”
“Sure.” He frowned as she knelt beside the cow and stretched out her hands above it.
He waited as she probed the animal, watching the distant farmhouse and listening for the rest of the herd, which had retreated to the farthest corner of the pasture. Nothing else stirred.
The night was so still that the nocturnal rustling of native wildlife was absent. Not even a breath of wind rose to carry the human sounds of Dunloe to his vampire ears.
Fiona snatched her hands back and stood, staring down at the mutilated cow.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded hastily.
“The herd is unsettled,” he added. “And there isn’t anything else out there. It’s as if all the animals have left.”
“Maybe they sensed something was wrong. Animals are incredibly intuitive of environmental changes.”
“Maybe.” He nodded towards the cow. “Did you find anything?”
Her brow furrowed. “Kind of. My magic wouldn’t mesh, no matter how hard I pushed it. It was the same with the blight.”
“Then it’s connected?”
“It seems that way, but I can’t see how.”
Patrick shrugged. He didn’t have any theories, either.
“When Ed told me about the cow, I instantly thought about UFOs,” Fiona went on. “But now I’m wondering if it was a fox, but this cow is too big for a fox to have taken it out.”
“What about pumas?”
Fiona lifted her head. “Pumas?”
“Yeah. There are stories all over about sightings of big cats in the bush. I’ve learned to take notice of these things because usually, there’s some grain of truth to them.”
“Pumas are an urban myth,” she declared. “And even if it was a big cat, there aren’t any claw marks.”
“You’re right. There isn’t any sign of a struggle at all.” For all they knew, the cow had just dropped dead.
Fiona sighed. “It doesn’t make any sense. A fungal virus doesn’t hollow out a living creature. Maybe contaminated soil… No, not even that.” She looked around the field and scowled. “And where are the insides? Where’s the blood?”
“It’s got to be magic, then.”
“If it is, it’s not any magic I’ve ever seen.” She let out a frustrated groan. “I need to think about this. I need… I need to meditate on it.”
His vampire senses rose at her increasing agitation and his frown deepened. “Are you all right?”
“I’m…”
If it was one thing Patrick knew about, it was the human condition. He was a politician of sorts before he was turned, which meant he was attuned to the subtle language of the body. If one could decode the innermost thoughts of a person, then the politician of the age could tailor their argument to best convince them of the justness of their cause. It was a pompous explanation of trying to justify manipulation, really.
“Forget about the cow,” he said. “Why are we really here?”
“There’s something going on. It’s my duty to—”
“Fiona.”
She snorted.
“There is something going on here, and we should look into it, but it’s not a good idea to use it as a distraction…not after the things we’ve seen.”
“I know. I just…” She turned away, embarrassed.
“You can say anything you want to me.”
“I never thought I’d be here,” she blurted, looking away from the cow.
“You mean, standing in the dark with a mutilated bovine and a vampire?”
Despite the grimness of their situation, she laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”
Patrick knew it wasn’t about him being a vampire, but he let her talk all the same.
“I was brought up to hate vampires,” she admitted. “My parents really drove it home that it was against the laws of nature. They have a particular belief system when it comes to magic.”
“I see,” he murmured. “Is that why you moved to Dunloe?”
“Kind of. It wasn’t the vampire thing that made me leave exactly; it was the attitude they had towards such things. It was…extreme.”
“Where are they now? Your parents?”
“Probably still in their house, preaching their anti-vampire, ultra-magic conservative rhetoric from behind a barbed wire fence.” She shrugged. “You know how it is.”
“And what about now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did any of the rhetoric stick?”
“I’m standing in the dark with a mutilated cow and a vampire. What do you think?”
“Still, you don’t seem happy.”
“I’ve been pretending.”
Patrick nodded, then guided Fiona away from the cow. They crossed the pasture and lingered in a copse of gum trees, the shadowy night wrapping around them.
“Have you told Holly how you feel?”
“She’s been through enough.”
“We’ve all been through enough,” he said. “But you should talk to her.”
“I don’t know…” Fiona shrugged and buried deeper into her coat. “We’ve been through this whole life changing thing together, but I don’t… How well do we really know each other?”
He could sense she was embarrassed. Fiona saw Holly as a strong, talented witch who could take on anything and succeed. She didn’t think she could live up to her friend’s expectations, so it was like she’d said. She was pretending.
“The possession?” he prodded.
“I was gone for weeks.” Her eyes closed as she gathered herself. “I lost my job, my reputation, my money. I almost got evicted. Everyone focuses on the violation of it, but never about all the other stuff. The bit where I’m supposed to pick up all the pieces of my ruined life.”
“Talk to Holly. She’ll help you; I know she will.”
“I can’t.” Fiona shook her head. “The last thing I want to see is the pity in her eyes. I just can’t.”
“Holly isn’t like that,” he murmured. “I saw who she is when she went inside my memories. She isn’t one to judge. If you asked, she’d help, no questions asked.”
Fiona wiped at a tear and lowered her gaze. “I can’t ask her for money. It’s embarrassing.”
“I can get you some work at the pub. It’s not glamorous, but the pay’s decent.”
She scoffed and pursed her lips. He could sense she was holding back a flood of tears and didn’t want to press too hard.
“I can compel you your old job back,” he offered. “I can do that, you know.”
Fiona laughed, her smile a reassuring break in their heavy conversation. “I know you can, but I’m way too honest for that.”
“Some people would see that as a flaw, but I think it’s an honourable asset.”
“Some people are dishonest jerks.”
Patrick smiled and reached an arm out, pressing his hand to the small of her back. “Well, for now, I think we should get you back into the Jeep where it’s warm. You’re shivering so much I can hear your teeth rattling.”
“Okay.”
Patrick helped her back over the fence to where the Jeep was parked alongside the road, his thoughts going back to the cow. “There’ll be some kind of investigation and pathology report, right? An autopsy to determine what might’ve caused the mutilation?”
“Yes. I assume so.”
“Then I’ll consult with Jin, and we’ll make sure we get a copy of the results,” he told her.
Fiona fumbled in her pocket for her keys, her gaze lowering.
“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah…” she replied, “I hope so.”