by Ann Gimpel
Though she’d asked that question and others, taking care to be subtle about it, no answers were forthcoming. The lore books were written in Coptic, an old Egyptian language no one in her caravan seemed to have mastered at anything beyond a cursory level. Tairin spoke Coptic, but she’d never learned to read very well as a child, so translation was beyond her. Over the last century, she’d rectified being mostly illiterate, but her grasp of German and French didn’t help decipher the lore books.
She stifled a frustrated sigh. Her current group of companions was the fourth one she’d joined since leaving Egypt. Given the rise of the Reich, it might well be the last.
The sounds of a horse galloping hard drew her back to the circle of wagons. Was Elliott returning? Or was an elder late to the party? She’d thought all were present and accounted for, but she might’ve been wrong. Tairin sent a slender thread of seeking magic outward. Elliott’s energy resonated, making her heart flutter oddly.
The tall, broad-shouldered Rom with his long black hair and deep blue eyes moved with the grace of a large jungle cat. Seer power ran strong in him, and he dabbled in the darker side of Rom magic. Enchantments from Black Magick came easily to her, but she hid that particular ability from her fellows.
Sometimes she’d caught Elliott’s gaze on her, sharply speculative. But if he saw through to what she was, he’d never said as much.
Elliott reined his horse to an abrupt halt, its thick hooves churning up clods of mud and stones. “Tairin.” His voice rang with command and a surfeit of magic as he dismounted. “See to my horse.” He tossed the reins her way and loped toward the wagon where the men held court. His leggy gait drew her gaze. He was so sensual, her body vibrated with wanting to throw herself into his arms. She’d never lain with a man, only with wolves, but she could imagine what it would be like.
Maybe it’s time.
Maybe not. I got away with learning Rom magic. I might not be so lucky making love with one.
How would her half-breed blood react to joining with a Romani? She couldn’t ask the question without giving away far too much about who she was.
She plucked the reins out of the dirt and sent soothing energy directly into the horse’s mind. The stallion had been ridden hard. He needed a cool down, so she vaulted onto his back and walked him at a sedate pace until he stopped tossing his head and his breathing slowed. Some horses sensed her dual nature and resented the hell out of it, but the stallion seemed oblivious.
She’d tethered him near his fellows where he could graze and removed his saddle and bridle before curiosity drew her to the wagon where men’s voices droned. Someone had shielded the conversation unfolding within, but she cut through the barrier with ease. Hunkering a few feet away, she eavesdropped shamelessly, wanting to know what would happen next.
Women fared better with the traveling folk than they did elsewhere, but Romani society was still run by men. When she sent her power spiraling outward to listen in on the men, the other women were all in their wagons, probably pretending all was well. The men—beyond the elders—milled about, busy with myriad tasks that needed doing each night. Younger children remained with their mothers. Older boys and girls helped the men do chores. Normally, they’d have set up their tents and wagons in Munich, soliciting local business, but the resident police force had made it abundantly clear they were no longer welcome.
Tension thickened the air. Even though everyone was acting as if tonight was just one more winter evening, they all knew better. Decisions unfolding one thin wall away from her would bind them to a course that might well spell their doom. A hissing snort bubbled up; Tairin smothered it fast before one of the elders heard and came out to investigate.
She swathed herself in invisibility and tilted her head, listening intently.
“You loosed a demon?” Michael thundered.
“How could you have been so irresponsible?” another voice she didn’t recognize broke in.
“It’s not as if that was my intent.” Elliott’s even baritone held a calming element. “I cast a scrying spell seeking visions, not one of Hell’s minions.” He paused for a few seconds, probably to strengthen the spell that lay beneath his words. “I did my damnedest to send the bastard packing. I wasn’t strong enough, but we waste time speaking of him. We must decide how to proceed.”
“Ye say the demon advised flight?” Stewart’s Scottish brogue was unmistakable.
“Yes,” Elliott replied.
“When we begin believing anything that emerges from a demon’s mouth, we’re finished,” Michael said flatly.
“Och aye. Still, we canna remain here,” Stewart said. “We canna work. We’ve been banned from the town.”
“It won’t be any different in Berlin or Heidelberg or Dresden,” Elliott said. “The Reich have labeled our kind as undesirables. Our way of life is anathema to them.”
“And ye know what happens next.” Stewart’s words sounded like a dirge. “We join the others. The ones imprisoned by those Nazi bastards.”
“Let me say my piece,” Elliott cut in. “Then you can decide what’s best for your individual groups.”
“I’m not certain I want to listen to someone who let a demon loose to feed off the poison spreading across Europe,” another elder grumbled.
“Your choice.” Elliott spoke clearly, but without inflection. “My path is clear.”
“Really?” Michael’s single word dripped displeasure. “Last time I checked, you were part of my group, which means you’re bound by my decisions.”
Elliott cleared his throat. “Nowhere is it written that you own me, nor that I signed on with you for life. Look, men, we have a problem. If we continue to ignore it, the Nazis may well add us to their genocide list—”
“They already have,” Stewart broke in. “I, for one, would like to hear what the lad has to say. Listening doesna bind us to action.”
“Fine,” Michael muttered dourly. “Proceed, but make it quick.”
After a period of silence when Tairin held her breath, Elliott began to speak again. “Very well. Escape from Germany is unlikely given our numbers. A few of us might get lucky, but most of us will end up trapped. Neighboring countries aren’t a haven. Either they’re already occupied, or they soon will be.” He inhaled noisily and blew it out. “Our only option as I see it is to hide. If we remain in our groups, they’re manageable enough we might be able to pull it off.”
“What aren’t you saying?” Michael demanded. “I damn near raised you, Elliott. I know when there’s more than what’s come out of your mouth.”
“I’m impressed.” Elliott laughed softly. “You do know me, probably far too well. I plan to leverage my magic and do what I can to sabotage the Reich. I’m not certain how it will play out, but if I strike fast and hard, I can catch them off balance. By combining my seer ability and maybe astral projection or invisibility spells, I should be able to determine where my efforts will create the most damage.”
“So will ye be doing this on your own, lad?” Stewart asked.
“If need be, yes,” Elliott replied. “I admit, it would be better if a small group of us signed on, but this will be extremely dangerous, and I won’t ask anyone else to risk discovery—and maybe death—if things go wrong.”
“You might have discussed this with me first.” Michael’s tone held censure.
“When would I have had a chance?” Elliott shot back. “This idea only took shape today, after the demon left me to stew in my own guilt for having offered it free passage from Hell.”
“Mmph. The way I see it,” Michael said, “we have three choices. Business as usual. Attempt to make our way to somewhere the Nazi scourge hasn’t touched. Or conceal our presence.”
“That was my assessment,” Elliott murmured.
“Ye did well, lad,” Stewart said. “Now leave us so we may determine if we all bet on the same nag, or if we separate our fortunes.”
Tairin had crept so close, she leaned against one of the wagon’s wheels. T
he sound of scuffling footsteps as Elliott exited the wagon happened fast. Too fast for her to scamper into the forest. Barely breathing, she wound another layer of spells around herself, hoping invisibility would hide her presence. Once Elliott retired to the wagon he shared with three other unattached men, she could make her way to her own bedroll in one of the women’s wagons.
Elliott trotted by where she crouched. He moved fast enough, she let herself hope she’d avoided discovery. Listening in on the elders, particularly after they’d shielded their conversation against prying ears, would surely earn her a session with the bullwhip. If not far worse.
For long, tense moments, she thought she’d pulled it off. She was just starting to breathe again when Elliott’s heavy tread first slowed and then stopped.
Shit! Crap!
“Become me,” her wolf piped up. “We can knock him down and be gone before he knows what hit him.”
“We can’t shift that fast.”
Magic, shockingly strong, probed her perimeter. The gig was up. Elliott might not know it was her, but he realized something was next to Michael’s wagon. Something that had no business there.
More power pushed against her invisibility spell, growing in intensity until he punched through. His magic ceased abruptly.
“Tairin!” ricocheted through her mind. “I know it’s you. Don’t bother denying it. Get over here. Now.”
She rose to her feet, letting go of her spell as she moved to where he stood twenty yards away. She’d be damned if she’d cower, so she straightened her shoulders and stared him right in the eyes.
“Follow me,” he ground out.
“Why should I?” she countered.
He spoke into her mind again. “You have two choices. Either I call Michael, tell him what you were about, and let him decide what to do with you.”
“Or?” She feigned bravado she was far from feeling.
“We go someplace more private, and you tell me what the hell you were doing listening in on the elders’ discussion.” He narrowed his eyes to slits, but switched to speaking aloud. “I might still have to tell Michael. Just so we’re clear about that. I owe him allegiance. As do you.”
Tairin jerked her chin toward thick timber. “Lead out.”
Elliott shook his head. “Nope. You first. I’ll be right behind you. And I warn you, if you try anything, I’ll flatten you with magic and ask questions later.”
She made her way to the grove of pines and firs where she’d been earlier. It was starting to drizzle, so she pulled her hood over her head. Tairin took her time as she worked on organizing which blend of truth might fly better. He’d be able to sniff out falsehoods right away.
His energy pounded against her back as she retraced her steps from earlier. She picked out anger, disbelief, and oddly enough, disappointment. Where was that coming from?
Tairin ducked beneath a low hanging limb and turned to face Elliott. It was dark, but her shifter blood meant she saw quite well in low light conditions. Elliott’s dark brows were drawn into a thick, disapproving line.
“Talk and talk fast, sister.”
The sizzle of power surrounded her, and she recognized a truth casting. “Was that really necessary?”
“What do you think?” His voice was low, tight with something she couldn’t interpret. “I find you swaddled in invisibility spells right outside Michael’s wagon. You were obviously listening in. I want to know why.”
“That’s fair.” She let go of her earlier intention of weaving a tale about idle curiosity mixed with boredom. Opening her eyes wide, she netted him with her gaze, trying her hardest not to pay attention to his high forehead, square jaw, and thick, curly hair that almost begged her to sink her hands into it.
“Come on, Tairin.” He sounded exasperated. “Talk or you won’t leave me any choices. What are you? A Nazi spy?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Awk. Jesus Christ! Oh, hell no.” She bristled. “I have eyes and ears. I see what’s going on about us. If you must have the truth, I was thinking about leaving, setting out on my own because I could hide myself better that way.”
The edges of his magic probed her again. Along with it, his scent rose, tickling her nostrils with bay rum and piquant vanilla. She couldn’t help herself, she breathed deep, inhaling the maleness of him.
His power jabbed her when he delved deeper. She rubbed her forehead. “Ouch. Surely that’s more than enough. You must’ve picked up truth in my words.”
“I did.” Without warning, he closed the distance between them and clasped her head between his hands, pushing her hood back onto her shoulders. Rain pounded from the sky, soaking her.
The intense nearness of him made her knees weak, but she struggled, trying to get away. In all her years with the Rom, the only one who’d touched her had been that first fortuneteller, and the woman had a kind heart. She hadn’t suspected a thing, and her touch was aimed at healing, not peeling back the layers of a secret Tairin had guarded for years.
“Stop!” She writhed in his grip.
His scent intensified, and the air around them turned silvery, glistening against the raindrops. Before he could dig deep enough to discover what she was, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth atop hers. The touch of his lips set fire to her blood, and she tightened her hold on him, kissing him as if the fate of the world rested on never letting go. Desire hot enough to set her heart racing sent sensation spilling through her.
After the briefest of hesitations, he buried his hands in her hair and sank his tongue inside her mouth. Something about the way he fell headlong into her embrace made her suspect he’d imagined kissing her just like this.
Whatever works. If this keeps him from unraveling my secrets, it’s a small price to pay.
But she was deluding herself. She couldn’t make love with him without telling him what she was. He’d never forgive her. More importantly, she’d never forgive herself.
His cock swelled against her belly, rigid with need. What would he look like? Taste like? She ached to wrap a hand around that hardness and drag him inside her body.
Reluctantly, she tore her mouth from his and let go of him. “Sorry,” she managed through panting breaths. “I don’t know what got into me.” She stole a quick glance upward through lowered lids before adding, “I—I’m a maiden. Not a harlot.”
“I know.” His voice throbbed with yearning. “But you’re right that this isn’t a good idea. Not with all the problems we face.”
She wasn’t sure whether to agree, so she held onto a wary silence. Where would this go next?
He let go of her head. “Your magic is strong. As strong as any Rom I’ve ever come across. Yet you’re not full blood.”
She licked her swollen lips, anxious to change the subject to something other than her power. “I could help you.”
“With what?”
She rotated one hand in a circle. “That plan you described. My magic is potent, and it would complement yours since I’m female.”
“Hold on.” He shook his head. “I was trolling for men. Women don’t go to war.”
“The hell they don’t.” She shook wet hair out of her eyes. Annoyance scoured her nerves, and she stuck out her chin. “Try me. If I don’t pass muster, I’ll either join the women and sew doilies, or more likely, I’ll slip away and wage my own mutiny against the Reich.”
His chiseled lips, lips she was having a hell of a hard time resisting, twitched into a smile. “You’re on, woman. Feel like a ride?”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere we can plan our first offensive.”
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