The Spirit Key

by Parker Williams

  “Tim, I—”

  “This place sucks.” His voice was pitched low. “No, these people suck.”

  George got up and followed us back to the front of the store. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was surprised, that’s all. I harbor no ill will toward people not of our family.”

  I tried to draw back but forgot how strong Tim was as his iron grip didn’t budge an inch. “Tim, please. Let’s just—”

  He whirled around, and I could see hurt and anger in his eyes. “They abandoned you—us—and you want to give them another chance? Why?”

  I did my best to let him see my pain. The twenty-plus years of torment I’d dealt with, and the fact that we were so close to finally having some answers. “Because I need to know who I am and what I can do so I don’t hurt someone or get hurt myself. I want a life with you, something where both of us can be together. I would sooner not hurt you, but if I don’t get trained, that’s what’s going to happen.”

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? For caring about me? That’s one thing you’ll never have to apologize for.” I moved closer and placed my head on his chest. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want.”

  Tim stroked my hair with his big hand. “No, you’re right. We need to know. I don’t want to do this, but it’s your decision.” He took a step back and glared at George. “Can you help him?”

  A slow smile spread over George’s face. “I think I can, but it will require the two of you, working in tandem. If either of you harbors any doubt, it will all be for naught.”

  Tim looked down at me. “Are you sure about this?”

  The fact that he was asking meant a lot to me. “Only if you’re with me.”

  He leaned forward and brushed our lips together. “Until the end of time.”

  I smiled and glanced over at George. “We’re in.”

  GEORGE HAD lit incense, and the room was filled with a pleasant, light smoke.

  “This is my own blend. It’s patchouli, cedarwood, and a bit of spearmint. It’s taken many years to perfect the combination, and I don’t sell it in the store. This acts like a mild hallucinogen, stripping away the worries, slowing down the mind, and letting important thoughts come out.”

  I had to say, it seemed to be working for me. The lids of my eyes were heavy, and I thought I could fall asleep at any second. Leaning back against Tim’s solid form reminded me he was there.

  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  I was nervous about what we were doing, but when Tim wrapped his arms around me, I surrendered to his strength and let myself feel safe enough to doze off….

  The dream started almost immediately, and though I knew it was a dream, it still seemed hyperrealistic.

  I was wandering down a verdant road, the sides of which were covered in fragrant flowers of every hue. As I approached a small brook, a green bow top wagon with a red door came into view. I was mesmerized by the intricacies of the wood carving, the detail of the craftsmanship, and the pot of stew over the fire made my stomach rumble. I’d never had such an intense experience in a dream before.

  “Did you finish your work? You know your father isn’t going to be happy if you’ve been daydreaming again, young lady.”

  I spun around, surprised to find an older woman, her back hunched, stirring the pot of stew, staring at me. I didn’t know what language she was speaking, but I understood it as though it was English.

  Then I realized I was watching things as they unfolded, just as I had with Burton. Our lives were connected, and it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other one began. I—she—we were young, maybe seventeen or eighteen. Her skin was a shade lighter than Tim’s, and she had a fashion sense that would rival any of the young ladies I saw today. I got the feeling that she took great pride in it, because her mother had made it for her. Bright, colorful cloths, woven together as a skirt. Her clothing was worn, and I could see spots where it had become threadbare, but it was obvious she loved her mother’s handiwork.

  “Yes, Mama, I got everything done.”

  “And your studies? Have you finished those?”

  I bit my lip. “No.” Then I huffed and put my hands on my hips. “Why do I have to look at those old books anyway? None of it matters anymore.”

  Mama clucked her tongue. “It matters because your father and I say it does.” Her gaze softened. “Sofia, the world is a dangerous place. Every day, more and more Romani disappear. We want a better life for you.”

  “I know, Mama, but—”

  “Listen to your mama, child. She knows what’s best.”

  I turned around and found three men. I’d seen them before at the show we’d held at the beginning of the week. They’d been drunk and loud, and before they left, they’d knocked over Papa’s display of medicine, laughing belligerently.

  They stalked closer, and Mama put herself between me and the men. “Go inside, Sofia. Lock the door.”

  “She can stay. She’s young, pretty.” One of the men sneered. “And probably a whore like the rest of your kind.”

  His words chilled me. All my life I’d heard people call us bad words, but never had I seen it so blatant. “Mama?”

  “Inside, now.”

  I turned and ran for the wagon, but the biggest of the men was on me before I could get to the door. He knocked me down to the ground, grabbed my shoulder, and rolled me over. Mama was screaming for Papa, and when I looked for her, I saw the other two men were holding her down as well.

  The door to the wagon burst open, and Papa came out wearing nothing but his nightclothes. His eyes were wild when he saw what was happening to me and Mama. He rushed forward, knocking the man off me, then went to help Mama. He only made it a few steps before the big guy got to his feet and tackled Papa from behind. I screamed and rushed to help him. A big, meaty fist flew back and hit me in the face, knocking me toward the wagon. I tripped, fell, and struck my head. Pain shot through me, but it was only a brief flash. Then darkness clouded my vision and I breathed my last.

  I couldn’t recall being dead, but Mama and Papa insist it was so. Their screams brought the constable, who rousted the men. Papa said the constable assured him that he would see they were taken to jail, but he knew it wouldn’t happen. A Romani was considered less than human, and justice was usually nothing more than a slap on the wrist, followed by drinks at the tavern.

  My body was being prepared for burial when I opened my eyes and sat up. Mama screamed and fainted. Papa grabbed his chest and leaped out of his chair, uncertain what was happening. My grandparents, who traveled with us since I was born, fell to their knees and prayed.

  My life after that was not the same. Every time I met another traveler, my story was told. Each person we came across prayed over me and asked me for a blessing. And then, one day, I saw a man who I told Mama was a part of me. I didn’t understand it, but I knew it to be true. When our parents arranged for the two of us to meet, my eyes were opened.

  His name was Vano, and when he looked at me, I felt warmth rush through my body. I believed we were meant to be together, and we were, but not for the reasons I thought. His parents began to travel with our caravan, and Vano and I spent much time together. He was dour, stern, and unforgiving around others, but he was kind toward me.

  We stopped outside of a town to purchase supplies, and one of the men there grabbed my wrist. Before I could cry out, Vano was there, tearing him from me and shoving him away. I had never known such strength in one so young.

  When the men scattered, Vano came over and took my hand. “Are you well?”

  “Yes, he didn’t hurt me. Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me. I feel as though it is my responsibility to protect you.”

  From that day forth, Vano refused to leave my side. One night, several years later, very late in the evening, I woke from a dream. I stepped outside to get some air and found Vano sitting on the stairs to our wagon.


  “I could not sleep either.” He picked up a pebble and tossed it, then turned to me. “Do you feel as though something is about to happen?”

  I did. That was what woke me.

  I took the two steps and sat beside him. “Yes. I don’t know what, but I am chilled.”

  “As am I. My mother said the feeling was as though someone had stepped on my grave.”

  We both turned as one toward a noise beyond the wagon—a sound not unlike footsteps coming toward us. Vano stood and put himself between me and whatever was approaching. When it—he—finally stepped into view, Vano was at a loss, for our visitor was not human. At least not any longer. He had been a young man once, fair of skin, with brown eyes that were wide with wonder.

  “You can see me?”

  Vano turned and looked at me. I nodded, and then he returned his attention to the spirit. “Yes, we both can.”

  He pushed by Vano and dropped to his knees in front of me. “Please, I beg of you to help me.”

  “Who are you?”

  He dropped his gaze. “In life, my name was Silvanus. Born the third son of my parents, I grew to adulthood knowing the love of my family. When I fell in love, they encouraged me to act on it, to tell of my heart’s desires.”

  I had been taught that the Romani people never abandoned the people, even after death. Knowing this, I was not surprised by a spirit coming to me, seeking my assistance. Still, I never heard of a ghost asking for help from the living, and I was intrigued.

  “How can we aid you?”

  Before the spirit could speak, Vano held up a hand. “I am not certain it would be wise to listen to him. Something tells me he—”

  “We must help him. He is of the people, and we should not turn him away.” I faced Silvanus once more. “Please, continue.”

  He looked up and gave a sad smile. “It’s a tale not unlike many others. I trusted a person I thought was a friend. Foolishly, I told him that I was saving my coins to ask my beloved to marry me. He wanted to know more, and I, thinking he wished me well, told him all. Then he gave a smile that chilled me to my bones, as he plunged a dagger into my heart. He took my body and buried it in the forest, and there it remains to this day. Now he is wed to my Tania, using the money I had saved as part of a dowry to win her. This must not stand. While I want her happy, I cannot bear the thought that he would hurt her if the need arose. Please, you must make him pay for my murder, and save Tania.”

  Once again, Vano cleared his throat, but I, being the softhearted person I was, ignored him in favor of the spirit.

  “I would help you. Tell me of your former friend.”

  Silvanus sighed. “Patrin and I knew each other our whole lives. When he found out that I loved Tania, he made small comments about how I would be unable to make her happy, then told me he was joking. While I laughed them off, they still hurt me. He continued, each thing he said getting meaner and ruder. Finally I told him I had had enough, and that if he couldn’t stop, he was no longer welcome in my home. He apologized and said that he meant no harm. Like a fool, I believed him. On the day he… killed me, he stood over me and said, ‘Tania is far too beautiful to be with someone such as yourself. I will make her a much better husband. We will have many strapping sons and the most beautiful daughters. In time, she will forget you ever existed. Fear not, I promise I will make her happy.’ And with those words, he stabbed me once again, thus ending my life.”

  I gasped, for who would consider one such as Patrin a friend? I stood and threw back my shoulders. “Of course I will help you. I shall expose Patrin as a liar and murderer.”

  “Sofia, I do not think—”

  I glared at Vano. “Would you condemn him to eternity, then? Seeing the woman he loved being taken by a man who would kill his own best friend? You may stay if you wish, but I cannot abide this.”

  Vano sighed. “My place is by your side. To protect you from yourself, if nothing else.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Silvanus stepped closer, but Vano got between us. “Patrin must pay for what he did.”

  I agreed, and when I learned that Patrin and Tania lived in the town beyond our campsite, I decided I would make my way there at the first light of dawn and confront the murderer. After informing Silvanus of my decision, he smiled and faded from sight.

  Vano put a hand on my shoulder. “We should sleep if we are to go into the village tomorrow.”

  “Why do you not think this is the proper course of action?”

  He shrugged one big shoulder. “I am uncertain. I get the sense that the spirit is misleading us. To what end, I do not know.”

  I frowned. “Could you not sense his sadness? Please, we must help him.”

  Vano put an arm around me. “Very well. But promise me you will not do anything foolish.”

  I gave him my word but had no idea what I would do come morning….

  “Scott? Come back now.”

  The voices beckoned me, and usually Tim’s deep rumble had me wanting nothing more than to go to him and ask him to help me. Now, though? The dream… vision… whatever I was having… had cracked open a door and allowed me a peek inside. I couldn’t walk away, because I had no way to be sure I would be able to get back.

  I only hoped that Tim would forgive me as I slipped back into the other world.

  Chapter Sixteen

  MORNING BROKE, and I had not slept. All night I played Silvanus’s words in my mind. How horrible it must have been to die at the hand of a friend and then see that he married the woman you loved. I could not understand Vano’s hesitance at helping Silvanus. I had to admit my disappointment in him, wondering how uncaring and callous he was.

  I got out of bed and dressed in the clothes my mother had made for me. While they weren’t like the things I’d seen other girls wearing, they had been made with love, and it was reflected in every stitch. I slipped on the necklace my father had made for me, with sterling silver crescent moons in opposing directions that meant freedom and emancipation. To me it seemed appropriate for the day that lay ahead.

  When I left my room, my mother greeted me with a smile. “Good morning, Sofia.”

  I kissed her on the cheek. “Good morning, Mama.”

  “You’re up very early.” She put plates on the table for breakfast. “What could possibly get you up at the crack of dawn?”

  “I’m meeting Vano this morning.”

  She beamed a smile. “Your father and I are very pleased you’ve met someone like Vano. The two of you are good together.”

  I wanted to say we weren’t together, especially after his refusal to help Silvanus, but something stopped me. I did care for Vano and sometimes thought of him as more than a friend. Perhaps after we helped Silvanus, he would see that it was the right thing to do, and he would come around to my way of thinking.

  At least I hoped so.

  When I stepped out of the wagon, Vano was already there waiting. I took the four steps to the ground, and he grinned and held out some jerky.

  “My father made it, and if I know you, I’m certain you haven’t had breakfast.”

  I scowled at him but took a piece of the meat. “Thank you.”

  He kept pace with me as we walked toward town. My mind was awhirl with thoughts about how I would confront Patrin.

  “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

  And I did know, but if I was gifted by God, as so many claimed, with the ability to help, then that was what I must do.

  “I think I have to. You don’t have to come with me. I can handle myself.”

  “Of this I have no doubt, but as I told you when we first met, I feel as though it’s my duty to protect you. I am not sure why, but I will do as my heart tells me.”

  My cheeks heated at his words. I would have asked about his feelings for me, but we reached the outskirts of the village. After speaking to a few people, it wasn’t hard to locate Patrin’s home. He knelt in the garden, pulling weeds, while a beautiful woman sat next to him, holding a baby. My anger at the realization
Patrin had murdered his best friend and assumed his life burst forth and I stomped toward them.

  “Sofia, don’t—”

  But I wouldn’t listen. I stormed through the gate and up to Patrin. “Are you Patrin?”

  He smiled at me. “I am. How can I help you?”

  The attitude, the smirk. I was pissed off over his whole bearing. “I’m here to tell everyone that you murdered your friend, Silvanus.”

  His eyes opened wide. “Murder? What are you talking about?”

  “You stabbed him so you could steal this woman from him.”

  Tania leaped up and stood beside Patrin. “What? No, that isn’t true.”

  I couldn’t understand how she could defend this monster. I reached for Patrin, but Vano caught my hand.

  “Do not do this. You do not know what happened.”

  “I know enough! Silvanus told me that—”

  Tania gasped. “Silvanus told you?”

  Patrin slipped an arm over Tania’s shoulder. “No, don’t listen to them.” He glared at me. “Why would you do this? Has Tania not suffered enough? She’s already lost her husband, and now you come and—”

  “Husband? But I thought….”

  Oh gods, what had I done? Vano was right all along: Silvanus deceived me.

  Tania clutched the baby close and buried her face in Patrin’s shoulder. Patrin’s expression was dark, and I truly believe he meant me harm, but Vano stepped between us.

  “Please, you must calm down.”

  “Calm…. You can’t be serious!” Patrin pointed an accusatory finger at me. “This woman comes here and insults me and disparages my brother’s memory, and you want me to be calm?”

  His brother? My heart was thundering as I tried to make sense of what had happened.