Hidden Fire Page 10

  Ignoring Morgan, she turned to Charlie. “Tell me about the opal, the Dreamtime Fire. I know we touched on the legend back at the station, but what makes this stone so special. And what’s its connection to this mine?”

  Charlie shook his head. “Too many people interested in that stone.”

  “What do you mean too many people?” Morgan cut in. “Who else has been asking about it?”

  “Some geezer been asking questions in Winton.” Charlie held up his hand. “Don’t worry, our people aren’t givin’ out information to just anyone.”

  Narri edged closer to Gili on the log. “Ask Morgan. He’ll tell you about the fire stone.”

  Gili rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Morgan’s about to tell me anything.”

  “The opal is not for sale,” Morgan spat out.

  “Yeah, I worked that one out, but I’d still like to understand why it’s so important.”

  Morgan handed his empty plate back to Charlie. “It’s like the mother stone. From this one large piece of opal came all the tiny pieces that gave the Aboriginal people fire. But not just the fire to cook our food and keep us warm. The Creator, in his pelican form, told the Dreamtime people to keep the opal safe, both the male and female sides of it. The male is represented by the light, the female in the flames. They’re the two components of the fire that allow our people to flourish.”

  She held up her hand. “Whoa. I’m still trying to take this in. There are actually two stones?”

  “One stone, with two halves that fit together like a jigsaw,” he said.

  “And it’s not just about being able to use fire to cook food?”

  “It’s symbolic,” Charlie said. “Fire is needed to survive. To connect male to female, forge new families and create new babies to carry on the line. Aboriginal people are all about families. That’s the flame that needs to be remembered and can’t be removed from the land.”

  “All this from a pelican?”

  “Like the one I saw on your shoulder, Gili lubra. The pelican, with the colors of the opal, points the way.” Charlie raised his bushy eyebrows and angled a bent finger at her. “Where did you get your pelican, Missy Gili?”

  Gili inched her hand over her shoulder and self-consciously touched the area where the tattoo was. Because of the skimpy top she’d borrowed from Morgan’s sister, her shoulders had been bare yesterday, except for the thin straps. Charlie must have spotted the tattoo then.

  She’d been sixteen when she’d had it done. On a dare, she’d gone to the tattoo parlor with a group of school friends, but of all the images presented, only one appealed to her—the pelican.

  The other kids had thought her mad, but something about it called to her, almost on a spiritual level. Although she sometimes wished she’d never had it done. That darn bird had featured in her dreams, both good and bad, ever since.

  “It’s the fire in the gut you gotta watch out for,” Narri cackled. “Anyway, ‘nuff of stories. You gonna try a witchetty grub, Gili lubra?” She held out a plate with one remaining grub in the center of it.

  “Eww, I don’t think I can.” Just the thought of biting into the fat white thing made her stomach roll over.

  “Too much of a snob to try the local cuisine?” Morgan mocked.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He was being a real jerk-off. Was he trying to rile her up? Because he was going the right way about it if that was his intention.

  Okay, she could understand him not wanting any mention of last night…sort of. He’d been angry with her for walking away from him six years ago. Maybe last night was nothing more than getting what he felt he deserved. But did he have to be so abrasive about it?

  Not being in the mood to let him score points, she reached out and took the grub between thumb and forefinger. Lifting it to her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a bite.

  It felt somewhat rubbery in her mouth, but not as bad as she’d thought it would be. “It’s…different. Tastes sort of like ground almonds.” She dropped the rest back onto the plate.

  Narri grinned. “I can cook you some more.”

  “Ah, no, that’s okay. I think I’ll pass.”

  Narri and Charlie burst out laughing. Even Morgan had a smile on his face. Then it disappeared as two utility trucks filled with men, both Aboriginal and white, drove up.

  Morgan pushed himself to his feet. “Time to get to work. We’ve frittered away enough time on story-telling.” Jamming his hat on his head, he strode off towards the vehicles.

  Pulling a face behind his back, Gili stood and collected the pack of clothing Morgan had provided her with. A sigh caught her unawares.

  Looks like Morgan regrets last night’s erotic interlude. Well, to heck with him.

  She went to turn away and caught a flicker from the corner of her eye. A shadow, black as night. There one minute, gone the next.

  With a frown, she stared at Morgan. The dark shadow was back. It hovered behind Morgan as if trying to blend with his natural shadow cast by the sun. Tiny tendrils of the dark slid around and over his body, probing and then withdrawing. Finally, they retreated, sucked back into the blob of darkness.

  A feeling of evil, of overwhelming malevolence, swept through Gili. Nausea churned in her gut and bile rose to burn the back of her throat. Fear for Morgan paralysed her for a moment. With an effort, she drove it back. She swallowed and opened her mouth to call him, then snapped it shut.

  What would she tell him? That he was being menaced by an insubstantial shadow? That she might have an eye problem because she was not only having visions about dark shadows intent on harm, but was now catching glimpses of them during the daylight hours?

  God, he’d think she was crazy.

  It didn’t matter. She still had to warn him. She’d just have to put up with him assuming she was less than rational.

  Before she could call out to him, the shadow was gone. Just…poof…and it disappeared. As if it had never been. The only shadow now tracking Morgan’s movements was the one he’d been born with.

  Gili’s stomach settled and along with it, the nausea. She continued to stare at Morgan’s back, but the shadow didn’t return. Maybe she’d imagined it after all. Or maybe she really was losing it.

  She shook her head, not certain what to make of it all. She felt as if she’d stepped into the twilight zone. Spirits last night. Shadows that seemed alive today.

  “Gotta go help the boys.”

  Charlie’s voice put paid to any further speculation. Gili was rather grateful. She needed time to get her mind around it all.

  Charlie patted her on the arm as he passed. “Don’t worry about the boy. He just fighting his destiny.”

  Shaking the worrying thoughts from her mind, Gili turned to Narri. “I’m going to change and then I’ll give you a hand, okay?”

  Morgan knew the instant Gili headed for the mine. Damn it, he didn’t want her wandering around in there. He took a step to head her off and then halted. Hell, he couldn’t go haring after her until he’d sorted out with Charlie what had to be done.

  “Come on, guys, don’t take all day.” Impatience rode him as he supervised the unloading of the building supplies. “Charlie, come with me and I’ll show you what I marked out yesterday.”

  He strode away from the mine, heading for the string of mullock heaps—the leftover soil dumps from previous mining that marked the beginning of the Opalton field. Charlie fell in beside him.

  “I’ve marked all the shelters out in a semi-circle so we can build the fire in the middle.” He pointed off to one side. “The chemical toilet and wash area will go there and we’ll back the truck with the drinking water tank up on the opposite side of the site.”

  “Been a long time since I slept in a gunyah,” Charlie said. “Sometimes I think the old people had it right. Throw together a hut of Mulga branches and cover it with leaves and grasses. There you have it. A shelter for the night. Nothing to pack if you wanna move on.”

  Morgan tipped his hat back o
n his head and stared across the opal field. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine how it must have looked when the Aborigines lived out here. Harsh. Dry. A hard life spent hunting for food, but with the trill of children’s laughter from the close-knit family groups softening the effect.

  Come to think of it, it wasn’t a great deal different now, although the local tribe either lived on his station or in town. It was still a harsh country, with nothing but a few Mulga and Melaleuca trees to afford any shade. Oh, and the inevitable Australian Gum tree. The sun still beat down as hot as ever. No electricity. All water and food had to be carried in to the site.

  The only store was a trading post on the gravel road into Opalton, a road aptly called Hopeful Road. It was ironic that the road out was called Sob Story Street. A good indicator that fortunes were seldom made from the mining for precious gems.

  It was a tough, backbreaking area, but Morgan loved it. It was his home, his heritage. And talking of heritage…

  He peered across to the entrance of the mine. No sign of Gili yet. What the hell was she up to?

  “Hey, Morgan, you listening to me?” Charlie punched him lightly on the upper arm.

  He dragged his gaze back to his old friend. “Sorry, I guess I was—”

  “You was thinking of Gili lubra.” Charlie burst out laughing. “You got it bad, boy.”

  Morgan frowned. “I don’t got it…” He dragged in a deep breath. “I don’t have it bad at all. I just don’t want her in the mine on her own.”

  “You think you can fool this old man? Go on back. I’ll look after the unloading and building. No use to me when your mind’s elsewhere.” Charlie waved and wandered across to where the boys were unloading branches cut from the surrounding Mulga trees.

  Morgan needed no second prompting. Leaving Charlie to do what he did best, namely, be a foreman, he took off back to the mine.

  The Waddamunda Tribe Mine was one of the few remaining below-ground mines left on the Opalton fields. Originally, the initial shaft had gone straight down. Over time, miners had leveled it off and widened the entrance, so it was now possible to access the tunnel without having to climb down.

  Most of the surrounding claims were open cuts, where the top layer of soil and rock had been cleared away to expose the sandstone, revealing the opal that had formed over millions of years.

  As the Guardian of the Dreamtime Fire opal, it was his job to protect the mine. Having a conniving female like Gillian Adams poking her nose into things that didn’t concern her wasn’t what he needed.

  He frowned at his attitude. He knew Gili hadn’t stolen the ring on his last dig. He’d done some checking after the fact and it was an odds-on bet Jeremy Grissom had been responsible, but according to Jeremy it was Gili’s idea.

  Morgan had the feeling she’d been shocked when he’d told her what her boss had said. So who was telling the truth? And did it really matter any longer?

  Regardless, he still felt as if Gili had somehow been a part of the whole set-up. The idea had been reinforced when she’d disappeared from the dig like she had. Not just out of his bed, but out of his life. What the hell else was he supposed to think?

  He sighed. If he was honest, there wasn’t much else Gili could have done at the time. Yeah, if someone had called him a thief he would have walked, too.

  He knew he was being a bastard and he couldn’t seem to help himself. Last night had left him vulnerable again. He never should have touched Gili. She’d drawn him to her like a moth to light when they’d first met and she’d just about gutted him when she’d walked away.

  Making love to her last night had been the culmination of every dream he’d ever had, but now he was back to where he’d started. There was no future for them. She’d go back to America when she finally realized she couldn’t buy the opal, and he’d be left with his emotions in tatters again.

  Not going to happen.

  It was time to shore up his defences again.

  Locking the memories in the back of his mind, he entered the tunnel and looked around. “Gili?”

  Where was she? Her jeans lay in a crumpled heap beside the sleeping bag. Ah hell, she’d gone deeper into the mine. The one thing he didn’t want her doing.

  The flashlight he’d left sitting on the top of his pack was gone. He dug through the rest of the camping equipment until he turned up one of the miner’s hard hats he’d stored there. Flicking on the battery to the attached light, he wrenched off his bush hat and clamped the safety helmet on his head before taking off down the tunnel.

  The light bounced off the yellow-red sandstone, glinting on the traces of color from opal fragments in the rock walls and creating a rainbow effect. The sight of it never failed to move him.

  Rounding a bend, he spotted Gili. He ground to a halt. His heartbeat slid into overdrive and the breath snagged in his chest. The blood in his veins drove south. Within seconds, his lower body hardened in reaction. He swayed where he stood and fought to fill his lungs.

  Gili stood on tiptoes close to the wall. She had the flashlight in one hand and was using the other to brush at the sandstone. All she had on was his t-shirt and what looked like the new black lacy panties he’d found in his sister’s cupboard. The shirt had hiked up to show the delicate curve of her hip and most of her rear end.

  Morgan had to swallow hard before he could make himself move. Silently commanding his body to stand down, he moved up behind her. She was so intent on what she was doing, she hadn’t heard him yet.

  “I thought you were getting changed?”

  She yelped and jumped back. The flashlight dropped to her feet and flickered out. Spinning about to face him, she backed up against the wall of the tunnel. “Morgan, you’re like a damned cat. Don’t you ever make any noise when you walk?”

  “What are you doing?” He rested one hand on the rock beside her head.

  “I don’t know what it is, but something about this mine is…” She stared at him, a frown on her face. “It’s the opal. The colors call to me. Yeah, I know, crazy right?”

  “This cave is a Dreaming place, a place of spiritual connection for the local people. Maybe that’s what you’re feeling, that spirituality.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. Something drew me down here. Look what I found. It’s exactly like the one tattooed on my back.”

  Her voice shook. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. She bent and grabbed the flashlight from the floor, fumbling to turn it on. Then she pointed it at the top of the tunnel.

  Morgan sucked in his breath, his eyes opened wide at what the circle of light revealed.

  The pelican.

  Great. He’d just spent most of yesterday searching for the Aboriginal rock paintings that pointed the way to the Dreamtime Fire and Gili had waltzed in and spotted it immediately.

  The drawing was a crude rendition in white pigment, with the beak striped in red, orange, and yellow. He ran his hands over the painting on the sandstone wall.

  “The old people used minerals like haematite, huntite and limonite to make the paint. They crushed them up and mixed them with water. In fact, the Aboriginal artists still use the same method today.”

  His voice dropped to a low, almost hushed tone. “Most of the old rock paintings have faded because of exposure to the elements, but I’d hazard a guess this one is as bright as the day it was painted. How the hell did I miss it? I searched this whole area more than once.”

  Gili stood on tiptoe and traced the shape of the pelican’s beak. “You know, I could be wrong, but if you follow the path the beak is pointing, it leads to this little side tunnel. I’ll bet if we head down there, we’ll find more drawings that will tell us where the Dreamtime Fire is.”

  Her face alight with determination, she took off in the direction the bird indicated. Morgan grabbed her by the arm and hauled her back in front of him before she’d gotten too far.

  Propping his hands on the wall either side of her, he trapped her in the cage of his arms. “There’s no
point in looking for it, Gili. I’ve already told you. It’s not for sale.”

  “So you said. Look, I might act like a bimbo at times, but I assure you, I’m really quite smart.”

  “Then why do I find it necessary to remind you this is a fool’s errand? You’re not getting that opal.”

  “I’m not a little girl who doesn’t understand what she’s been told.” She balled up her fist and punched him in the chest. “Now get out my way and let me the hell alone.”

  He grabbed her fist and hauled her close, her breasts brushing his chest. “You think I need you to tell me you’re not a little girl?”

  A blast of intense heat arrowed through his gut. An unappeased wave of need rolled over him. She licked at her bottom lip and he couldn’t help himself. He had to taste. He slammed his mouth down over hers, licking and nibbling until she allowed him access.

  Her hands slid up around his neck and dragged his head down. Once he knew she wasn’t fighting him, he let himself go. He swept his tongue into the warmth of her mouth, teasing her, tempting her to join him in a game of thrust and parry.

  She tasted so good. Memories of last night tumbled through his mind. He felt light-headed, the blood thundering through his veins. All rational thought disappeared. His brain shut down and he simply reacted.

  He dragged Gili closer still, into the cradle of his thighs. His hips angled forwards. Gili responded, rubbing against his erection. Then she lifted one bare leg and hooked it around his waist.

  He felt the heat of her through the thin lace of her panties. Heard the rasp of her rapid breathing. His hands shook as he gripped her hips and lifted her so he snuggled between her thighs and brushed against her core. She curled her other leg about his hips, locking her ankles in the small of his back.

  Now she was open to him. She tightened her arms and raised herself up. Then slowly slid down, rubbing against him. Morgan pushed her back against the sandstone wall of the tunnel and drove his hips forwards, hungry for the carnal contact.

  He wanted to rip his clothes off and bury his aching body deep inside her. Pound into her until she screamed out his name in release. Instead, he pinned her to the tunnel wall and met her every move as she worked herself against him.