A quiet and subdued group gathered at the new POM office in Emerald Hills that Sunday morning discussing the events of the previous day.
Trent, still stressed and shocked after seeing the Watcher, and experiencing their near death encounter, said little, but in his mind relived the traumatic moments of the second slip and the maniac in the car. Every so often, his hands would shake, and he’d grip his coffee mug with a little more firmness than was necessary. Bill watched his soundman with concerned eyes. The older man had years of experience of reporting from war zones and disaster areas, and was somewhat inured to it all, but Trent seemed to be taking what had happened yesterday especially hard. He noted that Fiona on the other hand, seemed to have recovered her equilibrium and was able to speak about the event with some degree of dispassion. Perhaps it was because she had been a lifesaver - it was clear that she was coping. Her mum, however, more knowledgeable about her daughter, knew that Fiona’s bravado was a mask, and that she was keeping her feelings still bottled up inside her.
Yesterday, and after speaking with the Senior Sergeant, they had returned to Fiona’s rather scratched and dented car. Damage had been only superficial, so they were able to drive away from the slip and back home, both feeling shaken and disturbed by the events of the afternoon. As soon as they arrived at Fiona’s house, it was hot showers, clean clothes, cups of tea, and quick telephone calls to reassure family and friends, all of whom were caught completely unaware of the accident on the mountain road. Fiona’s family however, were unsurprised by the slip, such events having happened in the past, before safety measures were put into place.
“He’s late,” Deven said, going again to the door.
“He’ll be here,” Bill assured him, “Although I’m not sure that bringing the police in was such a sound idea. I don’t think they’re particularly open to considering supernatural events.”
“The Sergeant wanted it,” Fiona said for the umpteenth time, “Frankly, I reckon it’s got to the stage that we have to tell someone in authority.”
“I’ve known Jeff Maxwell for a few years now,” said Matt quietly, “He’s a good bloke, he’ll listen. If you don’t mind, I’ll give him the letter from Jen McDonald to read, and then after that we can all fill him in with the more recent developments.”
“Well, you’ll have your opportunity soon,” Deven said, staring out the doorway, “He’s here now.”
*
Two hours later the conversation finally stilled, and Senior Sergeant Maxwell could only shake his head in stunned amazement. He could hardly believe all that he had read and been told, but the images on the computer screen from last year, and the more recent happenings were very compelling. He did not want to believe it, for everything in his training dealt with what he could see, smell and touch, dealing with a rational, understandable world - yes a world evil and dark at times, but at least believable and understandable in its darkness. However, this knowledge made the world unsteady, unbelievable, and irrational. It was as if he had gone through life unaware that he had possessed another sense and that through that sense, another facet of the world could be experienced. He longed for a swig of liquor, but none was on hand, none offered, and besides, it would not be appropriate to be drinking whilst on duty, even though he yearned for it. Straining, he pulled his thoughts back to the here and now, and back to an issue he felt equipped to deal with.
“So you think these...Artificers...are somehow involved?” he asked Bill.
“We believe so,” Bill replied blandly, “The link seems to be the tattoo, and we’ve seen them here at Emerald Hills. Don’t forget that the Fae call them warlocks and tell us that they draw power from earth energies, and you saw for yourself the earth energies that were present here last year.”
“Have you identified the driver of that car yesterday?” Trent asked finally, after listening quietly all morning.
The Senior Sergeant turned to him, “Not yet, the car landed deep in the rainforest, and from last reports, there isn’t much left of it after it crashed and exploded. Finding bodies will be nigh on impossible, let alone identifying them.” He shook his head, “They’re going in today to try and recover what they can, but knowing the steep terrain, they’ve got a job ahead of them. I don’t envy their work.”
“So no one is reported missing?” Trent asked.
“No one new,” Maxwell replied, “However sometimes it takes days or weeks for a person to be reported missing, and if the driver was behaving as erratically as you say Trent, then likely he, or she was doped up on drugs. In my experience, many hard-core users have chosen to opt out of society already and when they do suicide, it takes months or years to later identify them.”
“I suspect the driver was an Artificer,” Fiona said quietly, “I don’t have proof, just my gut tells me so. The weird guy who tried to push me onto the road at Alexander Headlands had the tattoo as well. His behaviour was both suicidal and murderous, and that gunman, he seemed really out of it, not caring if he lived or died.”
The police officer nodded, “There may well be a link between drug-users and these tattooed Artificers. There are reports of a new drug out on the streets. It’s not common knowledge yet so best not to speak of it, but the drug does seem to induce a type of suicidal psychosis in users.”
“So are all these recent suicides and murders linked to the new drug?” asked Bill, pursing his lips.
“Could be,” admitted the Senior Sergeant, “Mind you, I’m just an ordinary country copper and not in the narcotics branch, but as I said before, there does seem to be a link.” He paused and stared at the group gathered around him, “Now as for this threat to humanity that Miss McDonald warned about?” He shrugged, “Not sure what I make of that, and even if there was a viable threat, authorities need to be warned and to be frank, they’d want actual evidence, and even then they’d be slow to act - politics you understand.”
“We’ve been told we need to do something,” Fiona said urgently, “We were given a quest.”
He shrugged again, “Look, if you feel you need to do something then I’m not going to stop you. This paranormal stuff is beyond my brief, and way beyond my duty as a policeman - just try to stay within the law and keep me updated, and in return I’ll try and find out as much as I can on these Artificers of yours. If what your Faerie...ahem friends said is true, this cult may well be the crux of your quest.”
He glanced across at Deven, who like Trent, had said little during the morning. The police officer noted that the cameraman was distracted with an occasional scowl marring his face, “Has your girlfriend shown yet?”
Deven shook his head, irritated, “Nope, no phone calls, no nothing. She’s just vanished. I just don’t understand it, she said nothing to me about moving away last time we were together. It’s really bugging me, I thought we were close. I thought I knew her, but obviously, I didn’t, and that is annoying the crap out of me. I hate being made to look an idiot.”
“You’d be surprised at just how many people lead double-lives,” the Senior Sergeant said to Deven. “Some of them do it so well they fool their families for years. As for Miss Price, in my opinion, her absence now makes her a suspect in the break-in and robbery, and we’re still trying to track down Dale Evans and Helena Wilson. They’ve gone to ground somewhere, but they’ll show up, they can’t stay hidden forever. They’ll need to come up for air eventually.”
“So Dale was definitely involved,” Fiona stated quietly, as if she already knew that he was the one who had invaded her house and stolen Jen’s property.
Maxwell turned and nodded, “Oh yes, his fingerprints were all over your house.”
Catherine shook her head, her face solemn, “Shirley and Ted will be devastated. Dale is their only son.”
Matt growled, “I’m not surprised Jeff. Something about Dale always put my back up. For Fiona’s sake, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, hoping that he’d grow up. I’m sorry for his parents, but truth be told, he’s turned out a nasty piece of work. Dad never liked him much either,” he added cuttingly.
“Shhh, Matt,” Catherine hushed her husband, “Now is not the time...”
“Matt, even in the best of families you get young ones going off the rails,” Senior Sergeant Maxwell said. “They fall in with bad company and if they don’t get themselves sorted out, I’ve seen some pretty tragic outcomes - even here in the bush. It’s worse still in the city, too many opportunities and bad influences. It may not be too late for Dale Evans; a spell in gaol might just wake him up. It’s happened, rare though, but it has happened,” he added, trying to be positive.
He turned to Bill, “I’d like copies made of your video footage - the most compelling images you have. If I need to convince my superiors of what is happening, then I’ll require your best evidence.”
“It can be arranged,” Bill replied, “Deven?”
Deven nodded, with effort forcing himself out of his bad mood, “Consider it done.”
The Senior Sergeant stood and picked up his hat from the table in front of him, “I think that’s all I need to know. Bill, can you drop the video copies around to the station before Wednesday?”
Bill nodded, “We’ll probably have it for you by Tuesday,” and then he paused, “By the way, do you remember that activist who died last year? The one found murdered in her bed?”
“I remember,” Maxwell replied coolly, “Fair turned my stomach too. What about her?”
“Did they ever find who killed her?” Bill asked.
The police officer shook his head, “No. There was no DNA, no fingerprints. The case remains open and baffling.”
“You can close the case,” Bill said with an odd expression on his face, “The Fae killed the activists.”
Senior Sergeant Maxwell stiffened for a moment, and then he grinned wryly, “Why does that not surprise me? However, I doubt headquarters will accept that explanation. Probably it’s best that I forget I heard that...off the record you understand. The case can stay open as far as I am concerned.”
Bill nodded, “Just letting you know what we’re dealing with here. Jen and Ionuin seem fairly benign but they both had human heritage once. They seem tolerant and benevolent towards us - but the others, the elemental powers - they’re utterly alien, and I have a terrible feeling that they regard us and the rest of humanity as mere pawns on a chessboard.”
“Then if that is the case,” the police officer said, retrieving his bag from beside his chair, “We’d best look out for ourselves, for I don’t see much cooperation happening from the faerie race.”
*
It was almost two thirty in the afternoon when Trent’s mate Cameron pulled into the driveway, his powerful utility pulling a trailer with Trent’s Harley strapped securely on the back. As Cameron got out of the Ute, Trent introduced Fiona to him and she was briefly but suffocatingly embraced in a bear hug, enveloped not only by thick limbs, but also by an almost overpowering smell of tobacco as well. After she managed to free herself, she noticed Cameron staring at the house with a quizzical look. For a moment, she wondered what drew his gaze, and then dismissed it to stare in amazed wonder at the man himself.
Physically, Cameron resembled a massive bear; thick set, he seemed as woolly as a sheep, with a wool-like pelt of auburn hair across his arms. Although his head was shaved, he sported a long and heavy grey-shot red beard and moustache. He may have been in his late fifties, but he almost singlehandedly manhandled the bike from off the trailer. Moving back up to the verandah, Fiona watched as with beers in hand, the two men started to set up the motion sensor lights on the outside of the house where she and Trent parked their cars. As they worked, she glanced regretfully at her little red hatchback - it still drove well, but it badly needed a spell in the local panel-beating shop to fix the many small dents and scratches from the rocks that had come down in yesterday’s landslip. She wondered too if her car insurance would cover the repairs.
Watching the two men work companionably together, Fiona was glad Cameron had visited, for his oversized, in-your-face bearish presence seemed to free Trent from his spell of melancholy and shock. Over lunch, Trent had told Fiona about Cameron Kennedy, about how he was a good mate of his uncle Jim, and how Jim and his mates, Cameron and Steve, used to go off camping and fishing holidays on Moreton and Fraser Island in the seventies, bringing home hessian bags full of whiting, bream, flathead and tailor. Aside from the conversation at lunchtime, Trent hadn’t said much over the last twenty four hours, so Fiona was grateful to see that his mood had finally turned for the better and that the black dog had slipped from off his shoulder.
*
Dusk was just falling when the two men downed tools and came inside.
“All done?” asked Fiona, looking up from the dinner she was cooking.
Trent nodded and walked over and hugged her, his hands lingering on her body, “Missed you,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
“Sorry to hear of your break-in, Miss Delany,” Cameron said, “I’m surprised you were targeted, especially out here in the bush. It’s not something you’d expect in the country. Anyway, if anyone is snooping around the cars, the motion sensor lights will go on and they’ll be lit up for miles around.”
“Thanks for helping out...and it’s Fiona, Miss Delany is too formal a title,” Fiona added with a smile. “Hope you two are hungry, I’ve been cooking sausages, mash and veges and it’s almost ready.”
“Could eat a horse,” Cameron added.
Trent squeezed her and kissed the back of her neck, “I’ll just show Cameron where to wash up and then we’ll be back. Do you want me to lay out the dinner table?”
“That would be great,” Fiona replied with a smile.
*
“Trent, do you remember Steve Dawson?” Cameron asked, as he put down his knife and fork on his now empty plate.
“Only from what Uncle Jim told me,” he said shaking his head, “Didn’t he used to live up this way?”
“Yup,” Cameron said nodding, “He lived in Emerald Hills, in one of the backstreets behind the hardware store.” He grinned, “It was a pretty wild old town back in the sixties and seventies, mostly populated by transient hippies and loggers, along with the original settler families. Stevo moved away back in the early eighties, went chasing the opal down in South Australia.”
“Ah, I remember Uncle Jim saying something about him years ago,” Trent narrowed his eyes, “About him going off into the desert and vanishing?”
Cameron chuckled, “I think he did for a bit, escaping the clutches of some overeager woman who was en-route from Europe to marry him was the rumour. Stevo was always the lad, courting many but never bound to any of them. Last I heard, he was in South Africa trying to get into the diamond trade.”
“Diamonds! Geezus, I wonder if he was successful. So what happened to the woman?” Trent mused.
“Dunno, must have been a bit of a disappointment for her,” Cameron replied offhandedly, “But knowing Stevo, she was probably saved a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak. Stevo was always the lone wolf. He wouldn’t have hung ‘round long.”
“Long way to come only to find that your boyfriend had upped and gone bush,” Fiona said quietly, “I hope she found love...”
Suddenly Fiona stiffened as a voice whispered into her ear, then smiling she nodded.
Trent stared at her, “Everything okay, sweetheart?”
Fiona laughed, “Everything’s fine, I’ll tell you later.”
Cameron suddenly shivered, looking around, “You know, ever since I’ve arrived I’ve had the strongest impression that I’m being watched. It’s crazy, I know no one is, but the feeling is hard to shift. I was in the army for a while, and you can tell when you are being watched, you get this prickling feeling between your shoulder blades...and I’ve got it now.”
Fiona and Trent glanced at each other, uncertain about how to react.
“Cameron, are you Scottish?” Fiona asked suddenly, intuitively.
He looked at her oddly, “Nah, but I think my ancestors came from Ireland generations ago. Why?”
Fiona smiled and shrugged, “I just thought you might have been from the Highlands with that red hair of yours.”
He laughed, “I’m the only one in the family with it. Dad always joked with Mum that I was the milkman’s son, but I’ve seen some old family photos and it does crop up on occasion.” He looked at her with an odd, intense expression on his face, “You think I’ve got Second Sight don’t you?”
Fiona nodded, and he shrugged, “I’ve always thought that I might have it, because all my life I’ve had weird dreams and feelings, and sometimes I get impressions of events that actually come true which tell the truth, freaks me out a bit. I’ve done a bit of research into the whole psychic stuff and you know, it feels right even though it’s pretty out there.”
“That’s news to me,” Trent said, considering his old friend with new eyes. “Have you ever done anything about fostering it?”
Cameron shook his head, “I dabbled with dowsing sticks back in the seventies, but apart from that, not really. I figured it best to let sleeping dogs lie. Don’t want to be thought of as a weirdo by me mates. Mind you, it’s helped me out on occasion - getting the willies in an area and trusting my senses and moving on, only to learn later that there was a knifing or murder shortly after.”
Fiona got up and started to clear away the plates, “What feelings do you get about this house, Cameron?”
The big red-haired man looked up in some surprise at her, “That’s an odd question, Fiona, but to answer it, I feel like I’m being watched, and oddly enough, protected as well. Which is why I was surprised about the break-in, it seemed at odds with what I was feeling when I arrived.” He glanced at his watch, “Strewth, is that the time? I ought to be on the road Trent, I’ve an early shift tomorrow.”
Trent stood too and shook the other man’s hand, “Thanks for coming up Cameron, appreciate the help with the bike and the lights.”
Cameron grinned, “Anytime, mate, I’ll call in on Jim during the week, let him know you’re settled in okay.”
“Cheers, mate, give him my regards,” replied Trent with a smile, “Safe drive back, and watch that road down.”
“I will,” Cameron assured him, “The coppers and the road workers were all over the joint when I drove up. Hopefully it will be a quicker drive back.”
“Thanks for coming, Cameron,” called out Fiona from the kitchen.
“Pleasure, Fiona!” he called back, and then lifting his hand in farewell, was out the door and striding back to his Ute.
Trent watched him drive out, and then activating the alarm, locked the front door. Walking back inside, he found Fiona stacking the dishwasher with the dirty dishes.
Going up to her he knelt and hugged her, “Sorry,” he said, kissing the back of her neck.
Fiona turned smiling and kissed him back, “What for?”
“Being down today, yesterday threw me - I just had to work it out of my system,” he replied shamefaced.
Fiona hugged him back, feeling his warm body against hers, “I’ve had a week or two to come to terms with all this, you haven’t and yesterday was pretty rough, especially seeing the Watcher up close. That weirded me out too,” she added quietly.
“Yeah, I think just seeing that on top of the accident and the slip just pushed me too far. I’m normally better at handling stress but that creature really affected me. I had nightmares all last night about it,” he admitted.
Fiona stood, lifting Trent to his feet, “Come on, let’s wash and go to bed, because I’ve a good idea of how to give you much nicer dreams.”
Trent grinned at that, his eyes brightening.
*