The familiar red cliffs loomed either side of the four-wheel drive, and I sighed at the familiar smell of dust. I really hadn’t missed Thunderbolt Springs.

The turn-off to Archie’s tenement was steep, and as Bradley negotiated the bumpy track I banged sideways into Owen’s shoulder. He’d taken off his jacket, and the fine cotton of his shirt felt cool and smooth on my cheek.

“Sorry.” I muttered.

He looked down at my reddening face with the ghost of a smile. “Hold on tight.”

Outside a rusty iron shed, Archie stood with his hands buried in a dusty rag.

“Morning.” He nodded.

“Good morning, Mr Archibald. Thank you for seeing us.” Gregory turned up his megawatt grin, but charm fell flat at Archie’s steel-capped feet.

“You’re not gonna get what you’re looking for.”

“That’s our problem.” Owen spoke up for the first time. “We have a contract, however.”

“Pfft. I’d show that piece of paper to a lawyer if I thought it was worth it,” Archie sniffed, “it seems a bit shady to me. My old man wasn’t too sharp towards the end.”

“Your father signed a fair agreement. And if I get what I need, a generous one.” Owen flicked his eyes towards Bradley, who stepped forward with a slim folder.

“For your perusal, Mr Archibald.” The retainer said gravely. Archie snatched the folder like he planned to swat Bradley around the head with it.

Then he sighed. “This way.”

Archie’s was a one-man operation, so the mine shaft was a slender manhole. I followed Owen down the ladder and crouched to fit into the narrow tunnel at the bottom. Despite his height Owen managed to move with ease, as though he were strolling along Pitt Street rather than bent almost double in a rough rock tunnel.

I turned, and Bradley’s eyes glittered in the light of my headtorch, but he didn’t flinch. Whoops. First rule when underground, don’t face people directly when you’re wearing a torch.

I tried to breath normally, but I didn’t like being down here much more than up high in the air. The still air felt suffocating, and after a while I could only think about the tonnes of earth and stone above my head.

As we walked, the walls began to shimmer with glassy grey potch, and the tunnel floor rose and fell along the seam that Archie had painstakingly followed with his digger.

We reached the working face, and Owen leaned forward, his shoulder blades stretching the fabric of his shirt.

“This is it,” Archie said, “Pulled a few nobbies out of this one, but the seam ends here.” He was grimly cheerful, ready to savour Owen’s disappointment. It didn’t come.

“Perfect.” The word filled the small space, and silence fell. Forgetting about the etiquette of the underground, I raised my face to Archie. In the glare of my headtorch, he looked like he was spacing out.

His forehead was tilted downwards, like he was contemplating the rocky floor, but his eyes were unfocused. Glassy.

“Wha-” I instinctively reached out, but Owen caught my wrist.

Behind the idle machinery, the face of the tunnel glittered. Either Archie was blind, or there was now a rainbow lens of opal that hadn’t been there before.

“A few nobbies,” Gregory chuckled, “humans are blind.”

Perhaps it was the stale air underground, or the shock of seeing the suddenly inert Archie, but the ground seemed to shift beneath me. Humans?

The glitter expanded into motes of light like a disco-ball. The ground was shifting beneath me. A gentle shudder convulsed the tunnel and then the end wall disappeared.

Owen took a step forward and straightened up in the new space. He looked even taller down here. Gregory followed, and Bradley gently pushed me forward too. 

What the hell was this?  

***

They returned to the jeep, and Owen sent another glance at Braith’s profile. His expression wasn’t any better in the daylight.

Should he have told him earlier? Had Braith truly not questioned their true nature at all? Bradley had been dematerialising in front of him daily, Gregory frequently pulled things out of thin air. His innocence was a bit adorable. But also, a worry – could his consort afford to be this naïve?

There wasn’t time to ponder this. When they arrived at the airstrip, Thunderbolt Springs’ only firetruck was parked on the runway, hosing down a pile of twisted metal.

Gregory hurried over to speak to the air traffic controller and returned with a frown. “There’s been a botched landing. The runway’s out of action while they conduct an investigation.”

“So? Can’t they send a helicopter?” Irritation rose in his chest.

“Chloe took the chopper to Brisbane today.” Gregory’s eyes slid sideways, avoiding Owen’s glare.

“Was anyone hurt?” Braith’s voice piped up. It sounded thin, but at least he wasn’t shaking anymore.

“Uh,” Gregory looked around guiltily, “I didn’t ask.”

“Then go ask.” Owen growled. Gregory shot him a pained glance, but turned on his heel and headed back towards the fire controller.

“Sir,” Bradley coughed gently from the driver’s seat. In the rearview mirror, his beetling grey eyebrows wiggled encouragingly, “should I begin to look into local accommodation options?”

Braith’s unfocused eyes suddenly snapped to Owen’s, making his stomach do a small lurch. “Can’t we drive back?”

“It’s fourteen hours,” Bradley replied, “wouldn’t you rather be doing something else?”

Owen’s mouth twisted into a grimace. Gregory was bad enough, but Bradley’s attempts at playing the wingman were truly execrable. He had to take action before Braith caught on to yet another uncomfortable truth.

“Look into it.” He ordered briefly. His phone buzzed.

Any luck with Archibald?

It was father. Distracted by Braith’s distress and the airport hiccup, he’d forgotten about the purpose of the mission.

Site visit successful. Your contract still holds, just…

He didn’t want to tell his father that he’d mazed Archie, because the Prince always preferred doing things with words. Business was about persuasion, he’d say. But he couldn’t pretend that everything was fine, either. Without Archie’s agreement, they’d have to do it the hard way.

“There’s a motel in town. I’ve booked us four rooms.” Bradley had resumed his usual surly obedience.

The jeep door slammed open and Gregory swung himself in. “No casualties,” he announced breezily, “but what the hell are we going to do now?”

“Bradley has secured accommodation for us.”

“Could you drop me off at Dad’s house…” Braith began.

Owen panicked and his aura broke out, smothering the car for moment. Braith fell silent. Gregory’s head jerked sideways in surprise. The jeep roared off.

Shit. It was the second time he’d used his aura on a human today. And he’d used it on the consort! No wonder Gregory was shocked. Owen had always tried to do things properly. He bit his lip, trying not to imagine what his father would say.

Thunderbolt Springs’ only motel was a plain, single storey affair. The rooms, arranged around a central parking lot, were spare and beige, as though designed to cause severe depression in any one unlucky enough to stay more that one night.

Owen sat down on the edge of the sagging mattress when a knock came at his door.

He wrestled with the stiff lock, restraining the urge to blast it from the surface of the door with concentrated darkness.

“Let’s eat.” Gregory rubbed his hands together. With a ‘foof’, a red feathered quill and scroll of dark parchment appeared in his grasp.

Owen rolled his eyes. Gregory’s family’s ability to manifest across the astral divide was legendary, and part of the reason his family remained in the powerful inner circle of the court. Of course, he was using it for takeout.

“Put it away,” Owen rubbed a hand over his face. “he’s freaked out enough as it is.” Steak and caviar from the underworld’s finest kitchens might send Braith over the edge.

“We’ve got to eat.” Gregory pointed out.

They didn’t, actually, but he’d been in the Upper Realm for long enough to get used to it. His stomach growled on cue. “There’s a restaurant in town. We’ll go there.”

“You mean the tavern?” Gregory looked aghast. “We can’t eat that sh--”

Owen stood up. “Enough. Get your wallet.”