easy prey any more.' He spoke louder, letting his lip curl up. The iron crowbar felt light in his hand, balanced. He'd had it made for a particular use. Throwing.
There. He saw it. The irregularity in the foliage beside a gum tree. Iron whistled through the air. The bar sliced through the trunk of the tree, burying itself in the ground on the other side. Wilson smiled at the smothered wail of pain. `Yeah, bet that hurt. Iron doesn't like you,' he said, following the sounds of flight fading into the trees. `And don't come back. Next time I won't give a warning. Whatever you are.'
Wilson waited until he couldn't sense the Unnatural anymore, picking up his phone on his way back to the house. He listened and, unable to hear his parents, went in to pack a bag.
`Damn it,' he muttered, looking at the packed throwing knives. `Better take this as well.' He slipped in his 9mm pistol and two ammo clips. From upstairs, sounds filtered down.
`Bloody hell.' He shook his head and grabbed his surfboard on his way out to the workshop. He picked up the remote as he entered and music drowned out other sounds. `Oversexed parents. Unnaturals in the bushes. So much for being a normal family.' He laid his surfboard on its stand and ran a hand over it. `Lucky I got Sal and you, eh, baby?'
Wilson began to wax, trying to work off the anger shifting inside him. They had come to his home. If they came near Sally… Wilson worked the wax bar hard on his surfboard.
Her breath came in rapid silent bursts, though she ran faster than any animal could. Trees flashed by and her trail would be invisible. Not that it mattered anymore. The boy had sensed her. He had cut her with iron. No one had ever done that, ever.
CHAPTER 3
Mason sat on the top deck of the ferry, holding Ruth's hand.
`Whales on the portside,' a deckhand said. The ferry slowed and the crowd moved to one side of the deck.
Mason didn't move, enjoying the sun and Ruth beside him. He glanced at her, fiddling with a strand of long dark hair, her eyes elsewhere.
`Stop perving,' he whispered in her ear and was rewarded with a blush.
`Mason,' she started to say, but he slipped his hand onto her thigh.
`It's okay,' he whispered, sliding his hand a fraction higher under her short sarong, brushing her sex with a fingertip. `We're still the same people as before everything happened. You're still Ruth.'
`Mason,' Ruth whispered back, putting her hat over his hand. `I didn't…have anyone while you were gone. It was hard but…it would have been wrong.'
`If you had I wouldn't have blamed you for it.' He slid his hand down to her knee as the crowd moved back to their seats. `I've never seen it as you hurting me. But you have to give me time. And besides, she's far too young even for you.'
`Mason.' Ruth's blushed deepened as a tall, dark-haired girl walked past. Mason glanced at the girl's tiny black bikini, and saw why she might catch Ruth's eye. She was the type.
`You're so funny when you blush like that.' He kissed her on the cheek. `If I leave you up here while I go to the canteen, you promise to behave?'
`Stop it.' Ruth looked slightly mollified. `She might hear you. Wait. You're going to have a drink with Mullet?'
He smiled as he stood. `Yes. Just one, I promise. You want to come or stay up here and enjoy the scenery?'
Ruth punched him in the leg as her blush returned. `I'm fine, thanks. Just make sure you only have one drink otherwise I might get bored.' Her eyes flicked across the deck to the girl. Mason shook his head at her and turned to leave.
`Beat you to it, Boxhead,' Mullet rasped at him, standing with two drinks in his hand. `Heard you was back. Morning, Ruthie.'
Mason grinned at the tanned, weathered old man wearing only shorts and a blue singlet. Years of fishing and being a deckhand showed in every crease on Mullet's face as he nodded politely to Ruth.
`Still alive, I see,' Mason said, taking the can from him.
`And you're still ugly as ever, Mason. Rum and cola still your poison?'
`Pot calling the kettle black there, you old bastard,' Mason grinned as they shook hands. He cracked the can open in sync with Mullet.
`Huh,' Mullet grunted, sipping his drink and ignoring the stares around them. `So you're really back then? Had enough of Pommyland and warm beer?'
`Okay. We'll go with that,' Mason said, enjoying the harsh flavour of the rum. `So now you're shouting me drinks, or is it a bribe to get you out of trouble again?'
`Very funny,' Mullet grinned back as he leaned against the railing. `You're going over to the island for a break. Like before?'
`Uh-huh,' Mason grunted, knowing Mullet was itching for gossip. `Wilson is with us as well. For a family holiday.'
`I've seen him about, down below just now. He's a big lad. Better looking than his old man. Lucky he's got his mother's looks.' Mullet winked at Ruth as he took a swig from the can. `We goin' fishing now you're back? Got some new spots out wide we can hit, if the famous Mason Douglas still mixes with us ordinary folk?'
`Smartarse. We'll go once I get a chance, after the holiday,' Mason said, falling into their usual banter. It was like he'd not been gone for more than a year.
Another familiar face appeared at the top of the steps, eyeing Mullet off — his skipper. `You supposed to be doing something?' Mason asked, looking past Mullet.
`Yeah, yeah,' he muttered, glancing back as the skipper vanished back down the steps. Mullet finished his drink in a single gulp. `No rest for the wicked, apparently. More like he's nervous you're on board.'
`Nervous?' Mason frowned.
`Yeah.' Mullet wetted cracked lips and looked straight at Mason. `What happened, you know, over there. We all saw it on the telly. Serious shit, Mason. Trouble seems to find you.'
`Not today.' Mason finished his drink, irritated at the thought of people feeling uncomfortable around him. `Besides, you're a bigger shit magnet than me, remember.'
`Yeah, yeah,' Mullet muttered with a half-smile. `You're never going to let me forget that, are you?'
`No, and you still smile about it. You nearly got yourself killed that night.' Mason crushed the can in his hand, remembering the fight. He hadn't held back.
`Yeah, well.' Mullet looked at his feet. `I didn't know she was married to a bloody psycho druggie with his own gang, did I? Lucky you was there. I'd do the same for you, mate.'
`I know you would. But those days are gone, old mate.' Mason winked, remembering that wild night. `You still seeing her?'
`Christ, no!' Mullet took Mason's empty can. `She wanted to have kids and settle down. Crazy.'
`Yeah, can't have the Mullet saddled now, can we?'
`Still think you're funny, I see,' Mullet said with a wink. `Have a good one, Ruth. Make sure he stays out of trouble.'
`Will do,' she said from beside Mason. He could hear the humour in her tone.
