Hidden Fire (24 page)

No sooner had the thought taken shape in her mind than the phantom pelican flew over her shoulder and launched itself at Jeremy. The whispers of the spirits rose in a chattering scream. Each one followed the lead of the pelican. They swirled about Jeremy's head until they covered him in trails of white smoke.

“Whitey, get ‘em off me.” Jeremy, his face folded into an expression of horror, batted his hands at the insubstantial shapes.

Gili didn't wait to see where Whitey was. She took off running around the outside of the cavern until she reached the wall where the ledge was. Hand over hand, she started to climb.

A scrabbling behind her had her looking over her shoulder. Whitey had chosen to go after her rather than help his father. Gili ignored him and continued her climb to the top.

“Hurry, Missy Gili,” Piri whispered, peering over the edge. “He's getting closer.”

She pulled herself onto the ledge and scrambled to her feet. Piri threw himself at her, one arm clutched around her waist and the other holding the fire opal.

“I knew you'd come.” Piri handed her the opal and pulled her back from the edge. “The old ones said you would.”

Her heart was racing so fast Gili had trouble responding. She scooped in a shaky breath. “We've still got to get out of here, sweetie. Move over to the wall and stay behind me, okay?”

With her back to the wall and Piri tucked in behind, Gili placed the fire opal carefully at her feet. She bent down and gathered up as many small rocks as she could. When first Whitey's hand, and then his head, appeared over the edge of the ledge, she pulled her arm back and threw the first rock.

Whitey yelped when it hit him on the side of the face. He shook his head and glared at her. “Hand it over, girly, and I just might let you survive intact. We're taking that opal out of here.”

“Yeah, right.” She hurled another rock, following up closely with another and another.

Whitey ducked his head below the level of the ledge, so Gili aimed her missiles at his hands, both now visible on the rock edge. “I'm not letting you have it. It belongs to the Aboriginal people. It belongs here on this land so you can just go to hell.”

“Then think about your parents,” he yelled. “Funny things happen to family when people don't do what they're told.”

Gili paused. The thought of her parents' safety almost paralysed her. Tears welled up and trickled down her face as she came to a realization. “I won't betray Morgan, even to help my folks.”

“You bloody fool.”

Ignoring Whitey's comments, she launched into another attack, throwing the rocks as quickly as Piri could collect them for her. This time, Whitey disregarded the rocks pelting him and continued to climb.

Fear pooled in Gili's stomach. A sour taste filled her mouth. She swallowed it down and turned to Piri. “Can you climb down the other side?” she whispered.

“I think so.” His voice was as soft as hers.

“Go find Morgan and take the
Dreamtime Fire
with you.” She thrust it into his arms and gave him a gentle push towards the opposite side of the ledge.

To give Piri time to escape, she threw herself at Whitey as he pulled himself over the edge. Not giving him a chance to find his feet, she balled up her fist and punched out at him.

“You're not winning this time,” she ground out, swinging her arm around and aiming for Whitey's face.

He blocked her punch and struggled to his feet. His lips stretched in a macabre grin. His eyes glittered with what Gili could only describe as glee. Gili backed up, out of his reach. She didn't need to be too smart to work out that the idea of violence excited Whitey.

Maniacal laughter erupted from his mouth. The sound grated on Gili's nerves. A shiver trembled through her and she dragged in a shaky breath as she waited for him to attack.

For a minute, she thought she saw movement around him. The outline of his entire body wavered, like the ghostly images on a television set not properly tuned. A band of black edged his torso, creeping up to cover his face. And in that instant, Gili knew what it was. She ducked just in time. The dark shadow separated from Whitey and launched itself at her. It landed behind her and she spun to face it. But that left her back unprotected. Right now, she figured Whitey was the greater danger.

As she twisted back to face Whitey, the shadow whirled around her, brushing against her right side. Pain slammed into her. She gasped and bent over, clutching at her ribs. Her whole right side felt as if it were on fire. The agony bit deep, slicing through her body like an electric current. Limbs jerked. Her heart stuttered and then raced to catch up. Her head felt as if it were about to explode and the only sound she could make were the strangled whimpers that slid from lips pulled back in a frozen grimace. And over it all, Gili heard Whitey still laughing.

When she thought she could no longer stand it, the pain subsided. Her nerves stopped twitching, although her fingers still tingled as dark energy bled from her body. She breathed deep, filled her lungs with much-needed oxygen, and stood upright.

The shadow had lengthened. Now it stood tall like a man. If Gili stared hard enough, she could even make out the features on its face. She saw the mouth stretch into a grin before it flicked out a black arm at her. She flung herself to the side, not about to let it touch her. It dived at her again and Gili kept moving. When it came too close, she dropped and rolled and the dark energy floated harmlessly above her.

Whitey hadn't moved, although he waved one hand as if conducting an orchestra. With every movement, the shadow renewed his attack, pushing Gili closer and closer to the edge of the rock shelf. Damn. The thing was herding her to her death.
Not freakin' likely
.

When the shadow thrust out at her again, she dropped and rolled, but this time she kept on rolling until she was behind Whitey. She jumped to her feet and aimed a closed-fist punch to his kidney, gratified when he grunted in reaction.

He spun about and came at her, his hands reaching to grasp hold of her. She danced to one side, avoiding his touch. Then she saw his fist curl. She watched him raise it above his head, and knew she'd run out of time. Because when that connected, it was going to hurt like hell.

“
Go, Piri.”

Morgan followed the sound of the wailing didgeridoo through the tunnel until he reached a rock fall partially blocking the way. He climbed through the opening, the other men behind him. The sight of the pelican painting made him pause a moment and then he tore off down the passage, trusting that the pelican was pointing the right way.

The melodious chant of the spirit voices rose in volume, surrounding the men, driving Morgan to increase his pace. The song weaved about him, burrowed deep into his brain and filled him with resolve. Somehow, he had to save not only Piri and Gili, but also the
Dreamtime Fire
. The tribe needed their sacred icon and he couldn't—he wouldn't—disappoint them.

Putting on a burst of speed, he threw himself out of the end of the tunnel and into a massive cathedral-like cavern hidden deep in the mine.

His skin prickled with the strength of the power gathering throughout the cavern, primal and magical. The flashing of the opal colors that lit up the inside of the cave, the vocalization of the phantom ancestors, the music of an unseen didgeridoo echoing off the sandstone walls, rising and falling with the voices of the spirits.

He didn't have time to truly appreciate it all. He was too concerned with the tableau being played out on a ledge high above the floor of the cavern.

Gili stood at the back of a rock ledge, kicking out at a man Morgan assumed was Whitey Grissom. He'd met Jeremy, but hadn't had the dubious pleasure of connecting with his son.

“Listen to me, girlie. You give us the opal and you and the brat can go free,” Whitey yelled.

Gili had the temerity to grin at him, although Morgan couldn't see anything funny about the situation.

“Go to hell, Whitey,” she said. “Do you actually think I'd believe you? Anyway, I told you. The opal belongs here. I'm not about to betray the tribe's trust in me. Or Morgan's for that matter.” She picked up another rock and hurled it at him, bouncing it off his shoulder.

Whitey's laughter echoed through the cave. He spread his arms wide and Morgan thought he saw the man's shadow pull away from his body.

Impossible. There was no sun in the cave to project a shadow. Whatever it was, it launched itself at Gili, advancing and retreating. And if he didn't miss his guess, it was intent on driving her off the ledge.

Gili suddenly dropped down and rolled across the ledge. She came up swinging, delivering a punch to Whitey's back. Fear filled Morgan. His gut cramped. Bile rose in his throat and for a minute, he thought he might heave. He swallowed and gritted his teeth. He had to do something. No way in hell was he going to let Whitey Grissom take Gili from him.

When he saw Whitey raise a clenched fist at her, a ball of intense rage flashed through him. It roiled in his gut and surged through his veins. For the first time in his life, he felt capable of killing someone, and God help him, if that was the only way he could save Gili and Piri, then so be it. He'd deal with the fallout when they were safe.

Hands clenched into fists, he tore across the interior of the cavern. “You touch her and I'll kill you, Grissom.”

He started climbing up to the ledge. A fresh wave of adrenaline, powered by fear, pumped through him, giving him a strength he didn't know he possessed. Muscles quivered with the need for action. His breathing sped up, driving oxygen through his blood and clearing his head.

Now, instead of anger controlling him, his thoughts became sharper. His brain rapidly processed angles for the climb, working out the best scenario for saving Gili and thwarting Whitey.

He scaled the rock wall in a matter of minutes. He'd just placed his hands on the edge in preparation for hauling himself onto the ledge when a large boot-clad foot came down on his fingers.

Morgan grunted in reaction. The natural inclination was to pull his hand back but he resisted. Do that and he'd lose his grip and end up smashing onto the rocks below. Instead, he clung to the sandstone edge and tried to use his other hand to catch Whitey's foot as he kicked out again.

Whitey almost overbalanced. Morgan used the opportunity to grab hold of the ledge with his free hand and hoist himself upward until his eyes cleared the edge and he could see what was happening. Whitey stood there, his foot back, ready to kick him off the ledge. Gili was behind him, tugging at his shirt to pull him away. Floating over them both was a black shape, and whatever it was, it kept making darting runs at Gili.

Without looking, Whitey backhanded Gili, catching her across the side of the face. Gili stumbled backwards, smacking into the rock wall of the ledge. Blood trickled down her chin from a split lip.

Red-hot rage clouded Morgan's vision for a second. He shook his head, reminding himself what was at stake if he didn't keep his cool. He'd kill the bastard when he got hold of him. He launched himself the last few feet onto the ledge, rolling across the small shelf to avoid Whitey's boots. Before he could get to his feet, he saw Gili sneak up behind Whitey again.

“Gili, get back.” Christ, if Whitey hit her again from this angle, he was just as likely to knock her off the ledge.

Fear churned in his gut. He dragged in a sharp breath and pushed up onto his knees. Whitey swung at him with a clenched fist. Morgan ducked to one side, getting his feet under him, ready to jump the man when he came close again.

Before he could do that, Gili appeared directly behind Whitey. She raised her arms up, a large rock sandwiched between her hands. With a satisfying clunk, she brought it down on the back of his head. Whitey crumpled where he stood, measuring his length in the dust. With a loud pop, the black cloud exploded into myriad pieces that flew into the air and disappeared over the side of the ledge.

“That's payback for the one you slammed into
my
head,” Gili muttered before her knees folded and she sank down onto the ground.

Morgan crawled across to her. “Are you okay?”

He grabbed her by the arms and dragged her close. “I thought he was going to knock you onto the rocks below.”

He wiped the blood off her chin with the pad of his thumb. “Damn it, woman, you about gave me a heart attack. Why didn't you let me know you were going into the mine to hunt for the fire opal? I would have come with you. I didn't want you in here on your own. It's too dang—”

“What? You think I was going to grab the opal and hide it from you?” She glared at him. “I wasn't trying to steal a march on you, Morgan. I'd already decided the opal belongs here with the tribe.”

“I know, I heard you when I entered the cave.” He lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers.

Gili winced and he pulled back with a grimace. “Sorry, I forgot about the split lip.”

He tightened his arms about her and swallowed convulsively. “God, I was so worried about you. When I saw you up here with Whitey…” Breaking off, he dragged in a shaky breath. “I wanted to kill the bastard when he hit you.”

She managed a lopsided grin. “You weren't the only one.”

“And what the hell was that black thing?”

Before she could answer, a soft little voice whispered across the ledge. “Are you okay, Missy Gili?”

“Oh my God, Piri.” Gili pulled away from Morgan and crawled across to the opposite edge of the narrow shelf.

Morgan followed and when he looked over, there was Piri perched in a shallow depression, the fingers of one hand clenched around a rocky outcropping. He'd curled the other arm about his middle.

“Piri, I thought you'd climbed down.” Gili held her hand out to him. “Come on, I'll pull you up again.”

“Hold it,” Morgan interrupted. “How about I do it?”