Trent yet again eased back on the accelerator; he was unconsciously speeding, eager to see Fiona again, and eager to speak with her and hold her in his arms.
Back in Brisbane, he had helped Deven and a couple of removalists load the last of the equipment into the van, and then waving goodbye to Mark, shadowed the vehicle in his car until he reached the Bruce Highway. Once he reached the highway, he had accelerated past the van, soon putting distance between the two vehicles.
It didn’t take long for Trent to make the drive up to Emerald Hills. The route past all the pineapple farms and forestry plantations had become very familiar to him, and he knew of the quick back roads that lead to the road up the range. Bill had already driven up to the Hinterlands late last night, opening and preparing the large old house that he had leased both as an office for POM and as a residence for himself and Deven, who planned to stay on in one of the spare bedrooms. Trent had written down directions to the house; but he wanted to see Fiona first, and reassure himself of her wellbeing.
His own car, a powerful late model dark blue sedan, was loaded with his suitcases and other personal possessions that he did not wish to leave behind in his townhouse. He had locked away in the second garage the Harley, along with the rest of his bulkier possessions, out of the way of the new renters who were due to move in on Saturday.
Last night he had called into see Jim, giving him Fiona’s address, and telling him a little of what had happened, and of him moving in with her.
At the news, Jim had given him an odd look, especially once he had heard the address being at Emerald Hills, joking that Trent was moving in with the ghoulies and ghosties. He then regaled Trent with stories of riding up on the Harley to Emerald Hills in the early seventies to see a mate called Steve who lived up there. Of how he and his mate Cameron would stay with Steve most weekends and smoke a little weed, drink some homemade beer, and then all three would play a few tunes on the guitar and tin whistle. Then a shadow passed over Jim’s face as he told Trent that a few years afterwards, Steve had gone away to South Australia chasing the opal. They corresponded for a while, but even his infrequent letters dried up after a year or two. Jim had tried to get back in contact, but his letters bounced back – it seemed as if Steve had vanished into the desert, never to return.
Trent had not pushed the matter of his Uncle’s friend; it seemed that even after thirty years, it still hurt Jim to talk about it. Evidently, they had been close, more like brothers than as best mates. Jim still didn’t understand why Steve would up and leave like that - it was a grief he had never fully got over.
Trent manoeuvred his sedan through the road closures and building works of the town, and then pressing the accelerator, speeded up again, his car’s inbuilt GPS system showing the route to Fiona’s parent’s house near Cromhart. About ten minutes later, he swung the sedan off the main road, and onto a dirt road carved out between rows of fruit and nut trees. He looked about him as he drove - to his untrained eye, the farm seemed to be doing fairly well, although he noted quite a number of trees had died back, some standing gaunt and dead. It seemed that the corruption that had come with last year’s fog, which almost ruined the town, had touched the farm as well.
Fiona had told him that after her Grandfather’s death, her parents had sold their own house and moved into the old family home, so the farm could continue to be maintained. She hadn’t yet spoken to him of her future plans, although he was certain the family would ensure that the farm would be featured in it - he grinned as he imagined himself managing such a property, and then laughed at the absurdity of his fancy. He recognised that Fiona was swiftly becoming someone special, yet he couldn’t quite imagine them permanently hooked up - at least not yet, and not until they’d had some time together.
‘Small steps, Trent,’ he murmured to himself, laughingly chastising himself for being a hopeless romantic, ‘Small steps only, champ.’
Then moments later, the rambling old homestead was in sight and sitting on the veranda, almost as if she was waiting for him, was Fiona.
He smiled when he saw her get up and lift a hand in welcome, she walked down the few stairs, and although she walked slowly, methodically, he sensed that child-like, she was just busting out to run down to him. Opening the car door, he breathed in the clean and fresh scents of the country, so invigorating after the smog of the city. Yes, he’d be happy here - despite its past and despite the present trials, this was a good place, a good place to settle down and to raise a family. He grinned again at his fanciful thoughts, thinking ahead to what might be, instead of dealing with the here and now.
“G’day, Trent, did you have a good drive?”
He nodded at Fiona, wanting desperately to enfold her in his arms. He smiled too, for behind her habitual quiet politeness, he sensed something had changed within her. Perhaps it was the brightness in her eyes when she looked upon him, perhaps the slight trembling, or the contained eagerness in her body. All he knew was that their short separation seemed to have firmed his presence in her mind - not that she was admitting it to herself, perhaps she was not yet ready to trust after the odious Dale. He did not mind, he could wait; he had waited all his life to meet her. Melanie was finally over. He was at last ready to move on.
“Where’s Matt and Catherine?” he asked simply.
“Dad’s at work and my mum is inside having a nap. I was at work this morning, but Dad shooed me off home a short while ago. It’s been so busy this week, not only with my house, but also with the farm...” she glanced at him “Did you notice the dead trees?”
“Yup,” he said, “From the fog?”
She nodded, “We lost quite a few. Dad said that it was touch and go for a while as to whether or not the farm would still be productive. The contractors were able to spray them and we’ve saved most - other farms deeper in the fog didn’t fare as well. We were lucky, we were only lightly touched.”
He took her hand, leading her away from the car, “Show me the farm, I’d like to see it properly.”
She grinned quickly, “Properly would be a good walk silly, it’s over fifty hectares in size.”
He laughed, staring down at his leather shoes, “Perhaps show me what is close. I don’t know anything about avocados other than it’s in guacamole, and that macadamia ice-cream is delicious.”
She giggled at that, her body in his presence relaxing and forgetting the worries of the last few days.
They walked for a while hand in hand, Trent happy to let Fiona lead him around the trees, pointing out things and explaining the operation of the farm. He in turn was content to listen, for the moment ignoring the immediacy of the break-in and their quest. He knew that eventually they had to speak of it, but he would wait until Fiona felt comfortable enough to raise the topic. As he walked, he ruminated on the latest telephone call he had received from the Emerald Hills police. Little had been said except that the investigations continued, and they were awaiting fingerprint results gathered from the house. The police did let on that Dale had gone missing, his parents mystified as to the absence of their son from his usual haunts and job. They hadn’t worried, they told police, because lately, he was missing more than present, especially since the dark-haired girl had come into his life, and since he had got that tattoo. Trent received the distinct impression from the police that Dale’s parents would have happily disowned him for simply getting the tattoo. At any rate, it seemed that the police were able to get fingerprints from Dale’s possessions. Eventually they might be able to match the prints. It was now just a matter of time and patience.
“I said, I hope Jen hasn’t abandoned us,” Fiona said, tugging at his hand.
“Hmmm?” Trent turned to the young woman, “Sorry, sweetheart, I was miles away. What did you say?”
“I haven’t had any contact from Jen for days now. The last time was that night when the bird creature flew over the house. I hope she is not angry for the loss of the artefacts,” Fiona said, “I hope she hasn’t abandoned us.”
“I’m sure she is concerned,” Trent said, considering, “But it wasn’t our fault, the items were hidden away from casual sight, and you did arrange for a safe. What concerns me more is how did the thieves know the artefacts existed? There must be someone, somewhere who is close to us who stole the artefacts.”
Fiona nodded, “Shit yeah, that’s the bit that’s scared me the most. I’ve been thinking about this, and have been trying to work out who knew of the glasses and watch. So far I’ve come down to the police, Mum and Dad, you, Deven and Bill, and myself.”
“Olivia would have known as well, but she’s down in Brisbane with Mark,” Trent added. “Bill and Deven, I’ve known for years, would trust them with my life, your folks would hardly be likely to put their own daughter in danger, and as for the police, well, they would have had ample opportunity to lift the artefacts before they even came into your possession, but they didn’t...which leaves Olivia,” he added heavily.
“How well do you know her?” Fiona asked simply.
Trent shrugged, “Not well, Bill employed her when he started up POM, she’s been with the outfit about five months now.”
“Perhaps you need to ask Bill about her,” Fiona replied shrewdly, “Do one of those background check things, because she seems the most likely.”
Trent shook his head, “I doubt that she and Deven were out of sight of each other since she arrived on Saturday - if Olivia is involved, then Deven is involved too, and that is just too ludicrous to consider.”
“Maybe,” Fiona nodded, “She might have told others about the artefacts without his knowledge. Perhaps she phoned them?”
Trent stopped in his tracks, “That is possible, but why? Why would she do it?”
Fiona stared at him, “Perhaps your documentary told the enemy about Jen’s link with the Fae? I saw it and remember her name was mentioned; perhaps too, Olivia was put in your group as a sleeper, to keep an eye on you guys, and to report back.”
Trent chuckled, “You’ve been reading too many spy thrillers.”
Annoyed, Fiona jabbed him in the side with her finger, “Now you’re being condescending. Think about it - we know these warlocks take power off the Fae in order to craft items of power. If they knew that an artefact actually existed, then I reckon they’d want to possess something like that, and do anything to get it.”
Trent nodded slowly, musing over what she had said, then he glanced at the pendant hanging about her neck, “You’d best watch yourself sweetheart, and didn’t you say that your pendant was gifted to you by the Fae?”
Fiona nodded, lightly touching it with her fingers, “Do ya think Olivia knows about it?”
Trent shrugged and squeezed her hand, “I don’t know, she wasn’t at the meeting, so unless Deven said something...” He frowned, “Deven will be up in Emerald Hills tomorrow morning, I’ll ask him then...”
“Ring him now,” she said urgently, “Just in case he has said something.”
Trent glanced at her troubled face and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket, “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll call him now.”
He turned on his phone and called Deven’s number, waiting for his workmate to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Deven, Trent here...you didn’t answer straight away, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, just doing some last minute packing, Olivia was supposed to call round after work and help but she didn’t show, I thought your call might be her.”
Trent frowned, “She was at work this afternoon after I left?”
“I assume so, after we finished loading up the truck I went straight home to get into the packing, I thought she’d rock up after. Why, is there a problem?”
“Might be...” and Trent briefly outlined their suspicions.
“I don’t believe it,” Deven was adamant, “I know her better than most and she’s never breathed a word about warlocks or the Fae, besides you saw her the other night, she was terrified of that bird thing.”
“Well, Fiona wants to know if you spoke to Olivia about her pendant.”
There was silence on the other end of the line as Deven tried to remember, “To be honest mate, I dunno. I can’t remember, I might have, I can’t say for sure.”
“Shit,” Trent swore, “Can you make sure you don’t reveal anything more.”
“Sure thing,” Deven replied, “Although I’m certain you’re wrong, I know her well, and I don’t think she’s caught up with any cult. She certainly doesn’t have any strange tattoos.”
“Well, thanks anyway mate. By the way, did the police end up calling you back?”
“Nah, mate, they called Monday morning but I’ve heard nothing since - sounds like Fiona is still pretty freaked out about the break-in last weekend.”
“We’ve not really spoken about it yet,” said Trent, “But I am still concerned about her safety. If you told Olivia about the pendant then they might try to snatch that as well.”
“As I said, I don’t recollect saying anything,” Deven repeated, “Can’t she lock it away or something?”
“I don’t think so,” Trent muttered, turning away a little, “I think it’s a protective device just for her. Anyway, I’ll let you finish packing. You’re up here tomorrow?”
“Yeah, by lunchtime I reckon - I still have to get the keys to the landlord.”
“Okay, mate, see you then.”
“See ya”
Trent turned to Fiona who stood close by, her face creased in worry, “Did you catch any of the conversation?”
“Some of it,” she admitted, “I gather Deven has told her?”
“He can’t remember, we might have to assume that she knows and keep you close until the police finish their investigations.”
She nodded, “What are your plans now?”
Trent glanced at his watch, “I need to get back to Emerald Hills and help Bill and the removalists unload the truck and get the stuff in. After that, I can come back here. When are you planning to return to your place?”
“This evening, ‘bout seven, once Dad is back from work,” she replied. “Mum will worry if I’ve gone off whilst she’s asleep,” she squeezed his hand, “Is all your stuff in the car?”
“Yeah, the big items I’ve left behind locked up. I’ve mainly just brought clothes, books, some CDs, and some sound gear that I’m a bit attached to - I haven’t accumulated much junk, not really the hoarding type. I’ve a mate driving up here on Sunday. He has a trailer and he’s bringing my bike with him. I hope you don’t mind him calling in for a short while?”
“I don’t mind,” she smiled hesitantly at him, “Big step, you moving your gear in...”
“Sure is, but it feels right to me. Does it feel right to you?”
She looked at him, at his intense grey eyes and wavy dark hair that she just longed to run her fingers through, and remembered his consideration, his support, his thoughtfulness, and the way he made her feel when she held tight to him on the bike.
Slowly she nodded, “Last year Dale knocked me around a bit...” and then quickly added after seeing his darkening face, “Don’t freak, it was emotionally, not physically. Anyway, it’s taken a few months to trust another guy, but yeah, it feels right, very right.”
He turned to her and cupping her face in his hands, kissed her tenderly, lingeringly and then the kiss deepened as Fiona, moving from her initial surprise, responded, putting her arms about him and drawing him close against her, finally able to caress that surprisingly soft and luxuriant hair of his. The kiss seemed to last an eternity, and finally it was Trent who forced himself to step away, breathing raggedly, his body aroused, belatedly remembering that he had duties to attend to.
Fiona, her eyes huge, her mouth tingling with sensation, looked dazedly at him; her body was reacting in a way that she had never felt before, even with Dale. She wanted to bed him right there and then on the springy green grass between the fruit trees of the orchard.
“I must go,” he gasped, grinning, “Tonight sweetheart, tonight we’ll finish what we started.”
Fiona, still dazed, could only nod. She wanted him now, wanted him so badly, yet the pragmatic side of her knew that she would wait. It might be torment, but she would be patient.
*
Fiona drove onto the darkened property, the dazzlingly bright headlights of her car sweeping across the gravel driveway and onto the familiar outlines of the white cottage. Off to one side she noticed Trent’s blue sedan parked by the side of the house, and then she saw Trent himself, sitting in the dark, waiting for her on the steps of her verandah.
She felt a little shy now as she got out of the car, her bag in her hand. This afternoon she had time to reflect and come down off her high from that kiss in the orchard, then Trent was walking towards her, a big goofy smile on his face and suddenly she knew that she was truly home.
“Welcome back,” he said smiling, and reached to enfold her in a rib-crushing hug.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she apologised, “Dad was delayed. Were you waiting long?”
He shook his head, “Not long, I was quite enjoying myself sitting and feeling the night and listening to the sounds of the country,” he paused for a moment, “I think Jen’s back.”
“Oh!” she looked at him in some surprise, “How do you know?”
He pointed up to the door, “There is a piece of paper pinned there.”
He chuckled, “There is just something about it that doesn’t quite indicate an ordinary Australia Post delivery...”
“Oh!” said Fiona again, “I’ll go and check it out.”
Hand in hand, they walked up the few steps to the verandah, and stopped and stared at the piece of paper affixed to the front door. From a distance, it had looked like an ordinary piece of white parchment paper, but on closer inspection, they could see that the paper glowed with its own bluish radiance. As Fiona leant towards it, her pendant swung close and several words formed on the parchment.
“Can you read it?” Fiona said.
Trent nodded, “Clever that your pendant activates it, nice little security measure.”
Fiona held the pendant to the paper, and read the words aloud: Don’t despair, we are investigating the theft - remain safe, love eternally, Jen. As she read, the words vanished and the paper fell into dust.
Fiona sighed and let the tension fall from her shoulders, unknowingly, she had been harbouring a heavy guilt about the loss of the artefacts, and the reassurance from Jen calmed her greatly.
“See, she is still around,” smiled Trent. “Come on! Let’s go inside because I think the mosquitoes might have finally tracked me down.”
“Wait a moment Trent,” she said, “I have to do the alarm first,” and she vanished around a corner of the verandah to a recently installed wall-mounted security box. She opened it with a key and quickly pressed some numerals on the keypad, deactivating it.
“Handy!” Trent said, following her, “How is it monitored?”
“If it goes off, then I get a call on my mobile, along with Dad and the police. I’ve added your mobile number as well - I hope you don’t mind?” she added.
“Not at all, I was going to suggest it,” Trent said. “Hopefully this will dissuade any further break-ins.”
Inside they hurried to turn on lights, and Trent brought in his two large suitcases, a laptop computer, a cooler full of perishable food and a couple of packing boxes from his car. Fiona took the cooler from him and started to unload the meat into the freezer, whilst he carried the other items into the spare room.
He was back moments later.
“Where’s the spare bed?”
Fiona stared at him, a secret smile on her face, “I decided to sell it. I bought another bookcase, desk and chair - thought you might like to make up an office in the spare room instead.”
Trent grinned, “So where am I to sleep?”
Fiona blushed and her eyes flickered to her bedroom.
“Ah,” Trent said, with a knowing wink and a smile, “I understand.”
Fiona blushed again.
He went to her and hugged her close, “I think it’s a great idea, sweetheart, and I was going to suggest it, especially after this afternoon, but I didn’t want to rush you.” He kissed her again, quickly, gently, “When did you decide to make the changes?”
Fiona grinned and kissed him back, “About thirty seconds after driving out with Mum on Sunday.”
He threw back his head and laughed, “Thirty seconds? It took you that long?”
“Shhhh,” she giggled, “Now you unpack and shower and I’ll put the rest of this food away.”
“I stink?” he asked in mock outrage, pretending to sniff his armpit.
“To high heaven,” she replied with a chuckle, “Now go!”
*
Fiona was standing on the verandah, staring out at the stars and moon when she felt Trent come up and stand behind her. For a moment, she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck, and then his arms crept around her, holding her close against him, his hands caressing her breasts, her nipples. She could feel that he was aroused.
“Bedtime?” he whispered against her ear.
She turned slowly in his arms and smiled, “You’ve finished unpacking?”
“Yeah, and had that shower too - not so smelly now,” he added with a grin, whilst bending and nuzzling her neck.
Fiona shivered and breathed in the warm, musky scent of him, she could feel herself growing excited by the prospect of making love to this man.
“Yeah, it’s time,” she agreed, “Let me lock up, I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay,” he said, kissing her behind her ear, “Be quick.”
She waited until he had gone back inside and then holding her pendant, closed her eyes and attempted to will Jen to appear. She stood for a moment thus, and then opened her eyes. The garden and world beyond seemed unchanged; the woman of the Fae, if present, was not revealing herself, perhaps allowing the young couple privacy to explore their first real moment of intimacy.
Fiona let the pendant fall from her fingers, and then walking back inside, closed and locked the door.
Inside, her home was solidly comforting, and Fiona instinctively felt the bones of the wood and tin house settle protectively around Trent and her. She did not know if this awareness was a manifestation of her Sight, or some protection that the Fae had wrought, but it seemed new and she was grateful for it.
She turned the lights off as she walked, until she reached the bedroom, where in the moonlight she could see that Trent was half-lying on the bed with only a sheet covering his nakedness. A little self-consciously, she undressed, shedding her shorts, t-shirt and underwear onto the wooden floor. She stood, radiantly naked, her blonde hair streaming halfway down her back, her pink nipples erect, and her eyes wide with need.
Trent patted the empty side of the double bed, “Come to bed woman,” he growled huskily.
Obediently she responded, because she desired the same thing, Fiona moved onto the bed. Impatiently he threw the sheet off him and Fiona saw him fully for the first time and saw the force of his arousal. Smiling, they came together - at first kissing gently, then as passion claimed them, caressing every inch of each other’s flesh, and then finally, coupling over and over and over again. Finally, exhausted, they fell asleep whilst still entangled together, as if he and she could not now bear even the smallest separation of their flesh.
*