Fifteen minutes after speaking with Drew, Kyne followed Hardy into the outback behind Wally’s garage, his rifle slung over his shoulder. Eloise brought up the rear, one hand on her hat as a hot wind stirred.
They’d mobilised Blue and Wally, sending them off in search of the fae to the northeast of Solace, with instructions to keep an eye out for Rosheen. So far, the witch hadn’t reappeared and Kyne took it as good news. Right now, they needed some.
“We should start with holes in the ground and ditches,” Hardy called out. “That kind of thing.”
“Aren’t we jumping to conclusions? Vera wouldn’t kill anyone, let alone Finn or Clarke…” Eloise trailed off, giving away her uncertainty on the matter.
“Technically, but it’s not Vera who did these things,” Kyne told her.
“I know, but it’s Vera. She wouldn’t let something like this happen, even to Finn.”
“It’s not a matter of want,” Hardy said and turned around. “Even people with the best intentions can be coerced into evil with magic.” He should know, he could mind control people with his vampire eyes. How it worked was a mystery to Kyne, who considered ‘magic’ a lazy explanation.
Kyne placed a reassuring hand on Eloise’s shoulder. “You have a good heart, Eloise, but power can do some screwed up stuff to people, especially supernaturals.”
Her expression tightened. “So, ditches and holes. Where do we start?”
“This entire area is littered with old mines,” Kyne said, gesturing to the flat, scrubby landscape. “There’s an old riverbed this way. During the gold rush, the old-timers tried digging for gold there but found nothing, as you already know. There are a couple of opal mines where the river met the ocean long ago.”
“All right, so there're stacks of holes to check,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
Hardy raised his eyebrows at Kyne, who smirked. “You heard the woman. Let’s go.”
They made their way into the scrub, dodging spiky spinifex grass and trekking towards the ancient riverbed.
“Aren’t you afraid it’s going to fall out?” Eloise asked from behind.
Kyne glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“The torch.”
He’d picked up the torch from his ute on the way, and it stuck out the back pocket of his jeans.
“Yeah, nah,” he replied. “These jeans are tight as a drum.”
“I have sensitive hearing you know,” Hardy called out from ahead.
Eloise chuckled, although they were currently searching the outback for Finn and a possibly deceased cop. Nothing about their situation was comical, but it eased the tension a little. She wasn’t used to their high-stakes antics, though the more trouble they got into, and the more Kyne saw how well she handled it. Eloise Hart was becoming a seasoned pro.
Hardy stilled and turned towards the east. “I smell blood.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Eloise murmured.
Kyne scanned the horizon. “Where?”
The vampire began walking, leaving him no choice but to follow. Eloise brought up the rear, their boots crunching on the loose dirt and rocks underfoot.
As they trod a familiar path, Kyne’s hopes faded, and when they reached the clearing, he shook his head. Vera, what have you done?
“It’s an old mine,” Eloise said, approaching the metal door over the shaft. It was padlocked shut to stop outsiders from interfering, because it’d already happened once with devastating consequences.
“It’s Wally’s mine,” Kyne corrected. “Let’s hope he’s not down there.”
“You don’t have the key, do you?” Hardy asked.
“Nope. Wally has the only one,” he replied. “For safety reasons.”
“Well, he’s going to have to get another one.” Hardy bent over and snapped the lock open with his vampire super strength. Opening the hatch, he leapt into the shaft and the ladder rattled as he climbed down.
“Wait up here,” Kyne said to Eloise. “We won’t be long.”
She shook her head and scowled. “I’m not staying behind.”
He blinked once, then nodded. “Fair enough.” Then he threw a leg over the side and followed Hardy down into the mine.
Kyne held the ladder as Eloise climbed down, waiting until she’d put both feet on the ground before he let go.
“He’s in here all right,” Hardy muttered, sniffing the air. “He’s cut himself.”
Kyne took out the torch from his back pocket and switched it on, illuminating the tunnel. “Badly?”
The vampire shrugged. “Bad enough that I could smell it above ground, but not bad enough that he’s bled out. It’s a promising sign.”
Eloise glanced at Kyne, her expression uneasy. Hardy’s vampiric approach to things could be a little cold and morbid, but it wasn’t from spite—death was his reality.
“Sergeant Clarke?” Kyne’s voice echoed through the tunnel, bouncing into the darkness.
“He’s down there,” Hardy said. “I can hear his heartbeat.”
Kyne turned the torch down the tunnel. “Let’s go.”
They moved farther into the darkness, the torch tracking over wolf prints in the dirt.
“Clarke?” he called again. “You in here?”
“We’re here to help,” Eloise added. “Clarke?”
“He’s here.” Hardy gestured to Kyne to bring the torch up front.
Clarke held up his arm as the torchlight scanned over his face, and he blinked furiously as his eyes adjusted. He’d scraped both his palms badly at some stage, which accounted for the blood. At least he wasn’t haemorrhaging, which was a good start.
“Get away from me,” he snarled, scurrying back into the darkness. “I’ll fight back. I’m warning you.”
“He knows…” Eloise said.
Hardy peered at him. “How much, though?”
“Are you going to make me disappear, too?” Clarke demanded as Kyne shone the torch back onto his face.
Eloise’s eyebrows rose. “What?”
“I know what you are,” he said, backing against the wall. He jabbed a finger at her. “I know what you can do.”
“Vera told him about Roth,” Kyne said with a sigh.
“Vera? She’s the one who put me down here!” Clarke exclaimed. “She’s a witch!”
Hardy sighed. “Of course, she is.”
“And that mechanic is a werewolf!”
“Aw shit,” Kyne muttered. Vera, in all her Nightshade craziness, had put Clarke down here so Wally could use him as a chew toy on the next full moon…which was tomorrow night. “Lucky we found you then, mate. Wally’s a good bloke, but when he’s a wolf…well, he gets a bit carried away.”
Clarke’s terrified gaze moved back and forth like he didn’t know who was going to come for him first—the supernatural standing before him or a crazy werewolf leaping out of the shadows.
“We’d love to explain it all to you, but unfortunately, we don’t have time,” Hardy said. “You met Dark Vera, so you can understand. We need to hit the reset button among other things.”
“Dark Vera?” Kyne asked.
The vampire shrugged. “Simple but fitting.”
Clarke’s eyes widened in shock. “Y-you’re letting me out?”
“We’re not the bad guys here,” Kyne told him. “No matter what you think about what we did to the Dust Dogs, it was for the greater good.”
“We have to get you out of here,” Eloise murmured, taking a gentle step towards the sergeant. “It’s not safe.”
“No shit!”
“We don’t have time for a therapy session.” Hardy sighed and glanced over his shoulder as if he were listening to something far away. “If you won’t come willingly, we have ways of making you.”
“Don’t come near me!” Clarke edged down the tunnel, out of the ring of torchlight. “I won’t let you murder me, too! When I don’t report into the station tomorrow, the force will come looking!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Eloise exclaimed. “No one is killing anyone. Hardy’s a vampire. He can mind control you.”
“He’s a what?”
“Good going, Eloise,” Hardy drawled. “Now his heart is beating so fast, it’s a wonder he hasn’t burst his left ventricle.” He went to grab Clarke.
“Stop.” Eloise tugged on his shirt sleeve. “We can trust him.”
“How do you figure that?” Hardy asked.
“Because we can’t just go around mind controlling people and making them vanish. It isn’t right.”
The vampire snorted. “Are we really debating ethics right now?”
“We can’t solve everything with magic,” Eloise went on. “And I have faith in him. What if he’s a potential ally?”
Kyne frowned as he watched the back and forth. She was right. Clarke’s access would be useful in protecting the seal, but he was leaning towards siding with Hardy on this one. They didn’t have time to screw around.
Kyne hissed and grabbed Clarke by the shirt front, deciding to take the middle-road. “If we don’t get you out of here now, we’re all going to be wolf bait. Vera’s not herself, she’s being controlled by Rosheen. You remember her?”
Clarke nodded, his eyes wide.
“You’re a smart guy—they wouldn’t have made you sergeant otherwise—so do us a favour and extend your analytical thinking to include the existence of supernatural beings.” Kyne waited a moment for the notion to sink into his human brain. “The Dust Dogs are dingo shifters who threatened our town and tortured and hunted one of our own. We had to settle it the supernatural way, but all the commotion was like sending up a signal flare, and Rosheen came scurrying out of the witchy sewers in search of Vera. Unfortunately for you, you’ve become collateral damage in all of this. I’d apologise, but right now we have to get you out, unless that damage becomes permanent. You get me?”
Clarke nodded again. “I get you.”
“We’re not the bad guys here,” Hardy said from the shadows. “We’re trying to protect more than just our home.”
“Protecting what?” The sergeant’s gaze moved from Kyne to the others.
“It’s need to know,” the miner replied. “You’re going to have to be satisfied with that for now.”
“Step one, out of the hole,” Hardy said with a smirk.
Clarke looked between the Exiles as they moved back, creating a path for him.
Kyne shone the torch on the floor, lighting up the uneven surface. “When you’re ready.”
The sergeant wiped his damp brow and pushed past him, giving Hardy a wide berth as he made for the shaft.
Kyne sighed and followed, tugging on Eloise’s hand as he went. Progress at last.
Vera glared at the talismans on the other side of the door. The emu feather fluttered as the wind trailed its way down the hallway and into the side of the ridge, the gentle ruffle infuriating her.
She was trapped in here by ancient magic that was cobbled together with nothing but dirt, sticks, and tattered feathers. It was insulting.
The dingo was gone. He’d shot off empty promises before running outside with his tail between his legs. She didn’t want to be saved…she didn’t need it.
For the first time in her life, Vera was powerful. There was nothing she couldn’t face and conquer. The Nightshade had guided her out of the shadow of her coven’s murder and into a new future…and Rosheen had been the one to light the fuse.
Vera narrowed her eyes, glaring at the emu feather. Her sister was out there, pursued by the Exiles—if she hadn’t been captured already. She had to get out of here and finish their work. Once they were done with this place, they would return to Ireland and the Ascendants. But first she had to break the power of the talismans.
She reached out with a finger and brushed it against the feather.
“There was a reason I left the Nightshades,” he said. “We don’t have to do this.”
Vera spun on her heel, coming face to face with a man she recognised, and her expression fell. “Dad?”
He turned at the sound of her voice, but his gaze moved across her as if she wasn’t there.
“I won’t,” a female voice replied.
Vera gasped as a ghostly figure passed through her and walked to meet her father.
“Ciara, the rest of the coven has already gone into hiding, if they’re not dead already. The craglorn have already decimated the Nightshades,” he argued. “This baby will become the conduit. People will come looking for it. It will be in danger…and we will be in danger from it.”
Vera reached out towards the figure, but her fingers passed through the vision. “Ma?”
“Her,” Ciara snapped.
Vera’s father hesitated. “It’s a girl?”
“I won’t kill our daughter before she’s even born.” She grasped his face, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Liam, she’s not just a Nightshade. She’ll be a Brinewold. Whatever happens, she will have a choice.”
“Other witches will come looking for her. The fae will look—”
“Let them!” Ciara cried. “I will fight them all if I have to, but I will not murder our child, Liam. Magic is dying and every life is precious. Every single one!”
Liam pursed his lips, his brow creasing. “Ciara… Her life won’t be easy.”
“We’ll be there to protect her.”
“You can’t guarantee that,” he murmured. “You know we can’t.”
Vera turned towards the door and rushed at the opening, but the talismans held strong. The barrier forced her back and she let out a cry of rage.
It was his magic. Coen’s. He was trying to remind her of who she was. The weak, pathetic witch who’d run away from the Gealach Fola and had forsaken her legacy. This was who she was born to be. The conduit for the Nightshade.
“Get out of my head!” she screeched, fisting her hands into her hair.
The room moved, and she was outside.
Vera ran up the front path towards home, her schoolbag heavy with books. Her uniform was askew, her shirt untucked from her blue and grey pleated skirt. Her tights were torn, her blazer was missing a button, and her tie was stained with blood where she’d wiped her bloodied nose. There’d be hell to pay if her parents found out she’d been fighting again.
Pressing an ear to the front door, she heard nothing and decided the coast was clear. She opened the door and went inside.
“No,” her current self moaned. “I don’t want to see this again. I don’t want to see it!”
Stopping in the hall, Vera came to a sudden halt as she saw the scene in the living room.
Death.
Death, blood, and monsters.
Twisted creatures bent over her family. Their leathery black hides and razor-sharp claws were the stuff of nightmares. Their humanoid shapes the only clue as to what they’d once been.
Fae.
The slaughtered witches were seated within a circle of salt, the candles and crystals they’d arranged in a sigil, scattered. They’d been using magic, the mere flicker of power luring the craglorn to them.
They were dead. Their magic gone, devoured, their bodies…
A dark voice stirred within her. Kill them all, kill them all. Kill. Them. All.
Vera dropped her schoolbag, the sound drawing the attention of the craglorn. As their black, starved eyes turned on her, she let go of her magic.
Her mouth opened, letting out a shrill scream and indigo fire exploded around her, the shock wave pulsing through the room. The blast shattered the windows, splintered the furniture, and tore through the craglorn, pulling their twisted bodies apart.
Remember, the Nightshade whispered to her. Remember the midnight fae.
“Finn,” she whispered. Her lips pulled into a twisted grin as she separated herself from the vision.
Looking towards the talismans outside the door, Vera drew on her connection to the seal and stepped across the threshold of her prison.
“Game on, bitches,” she drawled, walking towards the light. “Game. On.”