Dark Confluence (3 page)

The other woman had nodded, “These, these constrain you,” she waved her hand at the outside window.

“What, windows?”

“No,” Moira had shaken her head dismissively. “The electricity that runs through the outside lines interferes with the flows of power. I could also show you far greater demonstrations of what could be achieved, except those things hinder me.”

Carma was captivated, “What can I do?”

The beautiful woman was adamant, “The lines must be moved below ground. The ground will act as a shield and allow you to fully develop your magical potential.”

Carma was crestfallen, “Such a thing can not be done. The expense, the disruption, and the local council would not agree.”

Moira had stared unsympathetically at her, “You would allow the feeble minds of others to stop you?”

Carma had bristled at that. “Of course not, EHGAG has had many successful campaigns and we are quite politically influential, as well. The council has conceded on many of our demands, and we have hopes that a couple of our younger activists will be recruited into politics.”

“Then what is stopping you?” Moira had asked, her green eyes flashing.

“A moth, it is our latest project.”

With a distant look in her eyes, Moria stared at Carma and whispered as if not comprehending, “An insect?” For a split second, Carma looked into Moria’s eyes, and deep within her soul, the word ‘insect’ caused the hairs on the back of her neck to rise.

“Very well,” Carma had sighed, “I will try to make EHGAG see it my way.”

“Not try, do it.,” the golden-haired woman said sharply, “If they do not see it your way, then I can help you become more… persuasive.”

With that last enigmatic statement, the woman had left, gliding out of the shop in a rainbow radiance of cobwebbed light and perfume.

After that experience, Carma had sat down behind her counter, quite overcome from her encounter with the mysterious stranger. She looked around and concluded that the store had been going well since she had set it up eighteen months prior. The local music, drama and arts festival brought repeat business, and sales had lifted since a more progressive and prosperous clientele had bought into the area, replacing the old original farmer and settler families who had been there for generations. No matter how good sales were at the moment, they could always be improved, and if her little attempts at magic could translate into creating items possessed of real power or wielding greater influence over others – well, that would be a battle worth fighting for, and EHGAG would be a beneficiary too. Emerald Hills might well become a leading light in Australia’s green and progressive movement, and Carma planned to become the brightest of the lights there.

Reluctantly, Carma pulled her thoughts back to the present and upcoming EHGAG meeting. She turned the hybrid into Rod’s Elton’s driveway and over the old cattle grid, which made the suspension shake. Driving up to the old homestead, she parked next to the other cars – a varied collection of hybrids, a couple of 4WDs and Adam’s elderly purple combi-van. She sat for a moment in the car, adjusting the rearview mirror to check that her scarlet lipstick hadn’t smeared. Also that her new ultra short hairstyle wasn’t mussed from the drive. This time, her naturally blonde hair had been dyed red with purple highlights. Getting up, she adjusted her voluminous cheesecloth dress, especially chosen to hide the lumps and bumps of too much gastronomic indulgence, and reached into the car to collect her EHGAG folder from the back seat. Grasping the ring binder and shoulder bag, she locked the car, and walked behind the timbered house down to where Rod had his shed.

“It’s criminal!”

“The bookstore won’t budge. They say they have a responsibility to serve the community and refuse to cooperate about the moth.”

Even before she opened the door to the shed, Carma heard the raised voices.

“The Green Mottled Dust Moth deserves protection – the town could always source books from elsewhere. The council library at Cromhart is only a twenty minute drive away and there is always the mobile library that stops in here once a month.”

Carma slipped in through the door and set herself down on the spare seat. Making herself comfortable, she placed her ring binder on her lap and looked around curiously. Rod evidently had been in creative mode with his concrete statues scattered in every corner and available space. Carma could see in the slanting rays of the late afternoon summer’s sun that a faint film of concrete dust covered everything else in sight. Rod glanced across at her. Today his salt and pepper hair and beard looked to be far more salt than pepper with all the white dust streaked through it.

She mouthed at him, ‘How long?’

He shook his head, pulled a face, and mouthed back, ‘Two hours’

Carma rolled her eyes, and with her free hand, slapped the cover of her folder hard, making it ring like a gunshot. Immediately, all faces turned to her, and Jeremy, who perpetually looked like a constipated Chihuahua
with his concave chest and receding chin, snapped his mouth shut with an audible crack.

“You wanted to say something, Rayleen?” purred Sonja, whilst playing with her mane of long ash-blonde hair.

Carma gritted her teeth. She hated the reminder of her birth name.

“Yes!” she snapped irritably. “We are wasting our time with the bookstore; I have a far more important action to present to the group.”

“More important than the moth,” Jeremy questioned irritably, his nasally whine immediately setting her teeth on edge.

“Yes...far more important. Now listen, we all know that Emerald Hills is a special place, not only because of the moth, but also because of its amazing beauty and location. People travel for hours to visit it and take in the sights and enjoy the cool, clean mountain air and the pristine creeks and lake.”

The others all nodded.

“It’s why EHGAG was formed, to protect and defend what we have here. Some of the actions we have done may have been unpopular with the old landowners. For instance, Steve’s effort in saving that large and important blackberry thicket on the Allenson property might not have gone down well with the family, but it did get results. The local newspapers ran with it and the council was forced to act under our pressure. It might have been my initiative to start it, but without Steve’s effort, the media wouldn’t have become involved.”

Everyone nodded again, smiling at Steve and recollecting his protest last year, which involved chaining himself naked to the barbed-wire fence, which excluded the thicket from the rest of the property. The Allenson family had called the police to move him, which then excited the local media (including a few curious reporters from Brisbane) who did a twenty-four hour camp-in, outside the Allenson’s front farm gate. Eventually, the Allenson family relented, agreeing under pressure from the council not to interfere with the blackberry thicket. Although, they had protested long and hard about the idiocy of protecting a known noxious weed. Steve had emerged triumphantly naked (and rather scratched) from his protest.

At the time, Carma had appreciated Steve’s effort for the cause. She especially appreciated his tall, lean and well-muscled body. In fact, every inch of him showed the results of significant time spent in Sonja’s personal tanning booth at her home. Carma did not discriminate when it came to bed partners; both sexes fascinated and attracted her. At first, Steve had attracted her, but he and Sonja was an on-again, off-again item, so Carma had kept her distance. The last thing the group needed was additional sexual tension.

“What I propose is a major effort to beautify the town and return it visually to nature.” Carma stated.

“That sounds fair,” piped up Maryanne, who was one of several university dropouts EHGAG had attracted. “What do you intend to propose? Tree planting?”

“Of course that can be part of it,” agreed Carma. “However, I was thinking of visual pollution, in particular, those nasty and ugly overhead electrical wires.”

“You thinking of pushing renewables,” a voice asked enthusiastically behind her. Carma turned and spotted Todd. Carma had long suspected that Todd had bought a number of shares in an international wind farm consortium, because without fail every meeting, he wasted no opportunity to raise his pet interest. Todd had once been a minor capitalist and employed with a major investment firm, however at thirty he had ‘seen the light’ and sold up to become a ‘tree-changer’ at Emerald Hills.

“That might eventually be part of our action,” Carma replied with a deliberate vagueness. “One day we might be able to move ourselves off the grid with local wind farms and solar panels, however small steps, people. First off, we need to petition council to move the electrical wires off the poles and to relocate them underground.”

“It won’t work,” Adam stated slowly. At sixty-eight, he was the patriarch of the group and had been active in the environmental movement since attending Woodstock in ‘69. “You are talking serious money now, Carma. The last time I spoke with Councillor Franks, he said that the shire was in a financial hole and that they were cancelling or postponing most of their non-critical projects.”

Carma was nonplussed with what the elder of the EHGAG group said. “Nonsense, I’m sure we can talk them round. It’s just a matter of persistence and getting the local activists behind us.”

“Pity we’re moving out of storm season,” Brandon, who was the other university student present, mused aloud. “I’ve read that councils tend to relocate their wires underground if they keep losing them to tree and branch falls. What we’d need is a cyclone to head south and cause a bit of damage in order to ram the point home.”

“Well you do your rain-dance, Brandon,” scoffed Jeremy, “Because personally, I think we’d have far more success with keeping on with the bookstore and the moth.”

After that, the discussion resumed for supporting the moth and for the rest of the evening arguments went round and round, with almost equal numbers supporting either Jeremy or Carma. Eventually the group broke up around eight with a promise to think over both proposals and come back next week with a firm decision in mind.

Both annoyed and dispirited, Carma trudged back to her car. She hated how the group pulled in separate ways so often. It delayed getting action on issues, and she wished, not for the last time, that she were more influential. She knew they could achieve so much more and get real results, if they thought and acted with one voice. Carma desperately wanted her voice to be the one to drive the group. However, with so many people with so many different agendas it was hard to get them focused and travelling as one. Carma concluded that she had to be more forceful, ignore Jeremy and the other moth activists, and during the week, ring around the rest of the waverers to convince them to support her. Thus fortified, Carma climbed into her car and drove home for a long night of soap making.

*

Chapter 3

The ground was tipping crazily around her as she drove her car down the road. She knew where she was, yet she didn’t. Everything was familiar, yet strange. Nothing seemed to be right or normal. As she crested the top of the hill, the landscape firmed into solidity. She drove through the lush green of farmlands, which gave way to houses and signed streets. Suddenly, in front of her, she saw a figure in the middle of her lane. She hit the brake and saw the tall woman, clothed in a long black dress and cloaked and hooded in a dark cape, stand and stare at her. From her hands, hung a long piece of grey cloth dripping with what looked like water. As Jen’s body flew forward, the woman suddenly vanished, dissolving into a pack of crows that circled once and then flew off. The last thing she heard was the screeching of the brakes.