Wounded Beast (Gypsy Heroes Book 2)

by Le Carre, Georgia

  ‘I can’t believe we’re going to end up as shark food,’ she said. There was no fear in her voice. Maybe she was in shock.

  ‘These waters are too cold for sharks,’ I replied, rubbing her arms furiously. I knew we were a long way from being saved.

  ‘So this is how my life ends,’ she said in a voice full of wonder.

  It hit me in the chest like a kick from a horse. ‘You’re not fucking dying. Stop being so fucking dramatic.’

  She turned her head slightly and looked at me sadly. ‘I feel so stupid. This is the stupidest thing I’ve done. I can’t believe I’m going to die because of my own stupidity,’ she whispered. And then the thought occurred to her. ‘Oh my God, Dom. I’ve been so selfish. You’re going to die too.’

  ‘Neither of us is going to die. Jake will be here soon.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t come? He doesn’t like me, you know,’ she said.

  ‘Stop talking nonsense. Why wouldn’t he like you?’

  ‘You’re such a fool, Dom.’

  ‘He’ll come.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t make it in time?’

  ‘He’ll make it in time,’ I said, a wave slapping salt water into my mouth.

  ‘I’m sorry, baby.’

  I could feel the rage in my guts. ‘Stop apologizing. I’d do the same again given half the chance.’

  ‘If I die, will you marry someone else?’

  ‘I’ll never marry anyone else, Vivien.’

  ‘I couldn’t bear it if you do.’

  ‘Look, I fucking won’t, OK?’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘I’ll come back and haunt you if you do.’

  ‘You’re not going to fucking die, so this is a stupid discussion.’

  ‘But if I do. Don’t fall in love with anyone else.’

  ‘You won’t,’ I said through clenched teeth.

  She didn’t speak anymore, and for more than an hour both of us were mostly silent. We spoke only to check that we were both still alive. I kept glancing at my watch every few minutes. Time had never moved so slowly. After what seemed like interminable hours my legs felt like dead weights and I was struggling to move them.

  By then, Vivien was also no longer shivering. There was a strange lethargy about her. I knew that at that rate she was not going to last. I turned her over so her chest was pressed to mine. It was harder work for me, but I didn’t know what else to do to warm her up.

  ‘Don’t move unless you have to. Don’t even kick your legs. Stay still and conserve your energy,’ I told her.

  ‘I’m afraid, Dom. I’m afraid I’ll die.’ Her voice was quivering with emotion.

  ‘No, you fucking won’t. I won’t allow it.’

  ‘My wedding dress. You’ll never see me in my wedding dress,’ she moaned into my neck.

  The dank taste of the ocean was in my mouth. ‘I’ll fucking see you in your wedding dress if I have to bury you in it,’ I growled.

  She giggled. It was a weak, lazy sound. She was slipping away. I could feel it as strongly as I knew my hands had become so numb I could no longer feel them.

  ‘It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would. I’m not scared anymore. It’s almost peaceful, actually. Just like falling into something soft and dark.’

  I held her tighter still. ‘Vivien, you have to fight it. Stay with me.’

  ‘Hey, baby! Look at those lights. They’re beauuuuuutiful.’

  ‘What lights?’

  ‘Can you not see them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, I pity you. They are sooooo beautiful.’

  I gazed down at her face. It was animated in a way it had not been since I’d found her floating face down. I became terrified.

  ‘Vivien, look at me,’ I shouted, but she was so entranced by the vision in front of her that she refused to turn in my direction. I grabbed her chin and turned her face toward me. Her eyes were glassy and empty. They seemed unable to focus on me. She made a small, incoherent sound of displeasure or irritation.

  ‘The lights. I want to see the lights,’ she mumbled pleadingly.

  I released her chin and she turned away immediately to gaze with fascination at the lights only she could see. I looked around desperately at the empty blackness stretching out in all directions around us. And I prayed. And I prayed.

  It felt like we had been in the water forever.

  My legs were getting tired of treading water, and I could see that she had given up the desire to fight the cold. Not even the lights could interest her anymore. Her eyes were closing. Her body, having imposed increasingly drastic measures to keep functioning, was finally starting to shut down. Her heartbeat was becoming weaker and weaker. If I didn’t do something soon it would stop completely. Then only her brain would be alive. And then even that would die. I had to pull her out of her slump.

  I shook her and she opened her eyes weakly.

  ‘Listen,’ I said with fake excitement. ‘Jake’s coming. I can hear the engine of his boat.’

  She seemed to listen. ‘I don’t hear it,’ she mumbled groggily.

  ‘There’s too much water in your ears,’ I lied.

  She smiled weakly, only half-conscious. ‘I’m so happy. He can take me back to my mother,’ she said, and I smiled back, but my smile became a grimace of horror when her heart stopped and she died from the sheer relief of thinking that she had been rescued.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  I’d heard of people dying from the relief of thinking they’d been rescued, but I had never thought that it would happen to her. I held her body tightly against mine. It was impossible that she was gone. I couldn’t comprehend that something as alive as she could ever succumb to something as ordinary as death. Or that as fierce and possessive as my love was, I couldn’t keep her. I had held on so tightly, with every ounce of my being, and yet she had slipped away, like sand from a clenched fist.

  So I shook her limp body. I rubbed her arms and legs. I gave her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but Vivien was gone. The pain and horror of losing her was unbearable. Words couldn’t enter into my pain. I began to scream. I screamed and screamed like a madman. I cursed, I swore, I sobbed until no sounds would come out of my mouth.

  I kissed her cold, blue lips.

  ‘Oh, Vivien!’

  In my head she was wearing a red rose in her hair and whispering, ‘You’re my gypsy hero. You’ll always be my gypsy hero.’

  ‘Oh, Vivien!’

  Once there was a way to get back home again…

  —https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjOl0fG72ZE

  TWENTY-TWO

  ‘When we pulled their waterlogged bodies out of the water, Dom was nearly as blue as Vivien. He never uttered a single sound, not pain, not grief, not relief. His fingers were so tightly clenched around her corpse it was ages before we could prize them away from her cold flesh. He stared vacantly into the distance. When I called him, he turned slowly and looked at me as if he didn’t recognize me. As if we were not flesh and blood.’

  Jake stops speaking, and I see him shudder with the terrible memory.

  ‘I brought him to my house and put him in my bed. He slept for three hours. Then came the profuse diarrhea brought on by the seawater he’d ingested, and the uncontrollable muscle tremors. He became very ill, and Shane and I took care of him. He even missed her funeral. They buried her in her wedding dress, apparently in accordance with her wishes. She had told her mother that if she should die before her wedding she was to be buried in her dress.’

  As Jake speaks, a numbing cold is creeping into my body, and I hug myself and force myself to listen to his words.

  ‘Dom was so ill that for a while we even thought he was going to die. But he didn’t. His body grew stronger, even if his head was totally fucked. For weeks he had such severe nightmares that he would move bedroom furniture around in his sleep and wake up screaming on the floor. He was like a madman. He blamed himself. He couldn’t look at a picture of her with
out getting into an uncontrollable rage. I gathered up all the photos of her and hid them.

  ‘Then one day I came back and he was making himself an omelet. “Want one?” he asked, and I knew it was going to be all right. We ate together and he thanked me for everything I’d done. Then he left.’

  Jake looks at me with somber, sad eyes. ‘Ever since then there has been no other woman in his life. One-night stands, casual flings. No woman, no matter how hard they tried, and believe me when I tell you a lot tried, and very hard too, could get close to him. Until you.’

  Jake pauses and takes a sip of whiskey while watching me intently from above the rim of his glass.

  I drop my eyes. Some part of me feels a flash of joy at his last sentence, but it’s muted. I think I’m in shock.

  ‘Don’t give up on him so quickly. He’s come so far because of you,’ Jake says, as if he’s trying to sell me the idea of staying in a relationship with Dom. As if he needs to.

  I look up at him suddenly and his eyes slide away. Not immediately, but he can’t hold my gaze! I watch him take another sip before he raises his eyes to me. I stare at him. He looks back without flinching this time, but that moment he couldn’t hold my gaze has given him away.

  ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’ I ask.

  He sighs. It’s actually a sound of relief. As if a burden is about to be lifted from his shoulders.

  He nods, stands, and walks over to his desk. He unlocks the last drawer and takes a photo album out. He turns the pages to somewhere in the middle and walks back to me carrying the open album. He stands over me and holds the book out to me.

  I take it from him. It’s one of those fancy albums with tracing paper between the pages holding the photos. I take the end of the tracing paper page and turn it, and pretty much just stare at the picture. It’s a photo taken outside some kind of temple. The sun is shining brightly. I’m wearing a pink tie-dyed T-shirt and a long flowery skirt. It looks like it’s been taken in a foreign land. India, perhaps. Asia, definitely.

  But I’ve never been to Asia.

  All these impressions hit me in seconds. I raise my eyes upwards and Jake is looking down at me, his eyes full of pity.

  ‘That’s her?’ I ask in a shocked whisper.

  ‘That’s Vivien.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I cry. The girl in the photo looks exactly like me. The similarity is uncanny. Except for her hair color, I am her twin.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jake says softly.

  Suddenly everything makes sense. Everything! It explains why the whole family had behaved so strangely when Dom introduced me. I’d thought it was because Dom was dating a tax inspector, but now I know. Ah! That would nicely explain away the uneasy, quickly hidden expression on his mother’s face whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.

  A thought seeds itself into my head.

  ‘Did you already know what I looked like when we met?’

  ‘Yes, Shane had warned us all.’

  I nod slowly, taking the information in. ‘Did Shane know Vivien?’

  He frowns. ‘Of course. Dom was going to marry her.’

  ‘I see.’ Some part of my rational brain makes the observation that only Shane in this family is truly impenetrable. His classically handsome face had betrayed nothing when he had met me for the first time at the party. Nothing but an open friendliness and an irresistible charm.

  ‘Right,’ I say slowly. My whole life is falling apart around me. ‘So, Dom went out with me because I reminded him of his dead fiancée.’

  ‘I’m sure the fact that you look like her has something to do with it, but you’re totally different in every way.’

  I look at him with disbelieving eyes.

  ‘Everything about you is different. She was selfish, tempestuous, controlling and impulsive, and you are careful, kind, considerate and deep.’

  Oh my God. The way he describes me makes me sound so boring. I cover my eyes with the palms of my hands. What a fucking mess!

  Jake comes over and goes down on his haunches in front of me. Startled, I uncover my eyes. Jake at close quarters is an intimidating experience. It’s like being too close to a live wire. Part of me wants to move away.

  As if he knows that I am uncomfortable, he fixes me with his mesmerizing eyes and moves in for the kill. ‘Remember, when I said Vivien was no good for him, I truly meant it. You are the perfect match. You balance him and bring out the best in him. You make him happy.’

  ‘But he wants her. She is his true soul mate. I’m just a poor imitation.’ It hurts like hell to voice the thought. I feel the tears start welling up in my eyes.

  ‘Ella, listen to me. He was eighteen. She was his first love. Do you remember what you were like when you were eighteen? If he had married her, it would have been a disaster, and they would have ended up hating each other and getting divorced. But because she died, she has become his dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen. A great, lost love. But he has suffered enough. She’s gone, and you’re here.’

  ‘I’m nothing to him.’

  ‘You have no idea what you’ve done for him. The demons had completely taken over when you came into his life. You broke them up with your softness.’

  I stare at him wordlessly. How much I want to believe him, but my heart feels like it’s breaking into pieces. He never wanted me. He was trying to replace her. When he was touching me, he was really touching her.

  ‘He never really wanted me,’ I sob. ‘The whole time he was pretending I was her.’

  He reaches out a hand and touches my cheek. His hand is warm and gentle. And it makes me want to lean into it for the comfort it holds.

  ‘Ah, Ella. You’re not a man. I am. Take it from me. My brother wanted Vivien the way a boy wants a girl. He wants you with the passion with which a man wants a woman. Let him discover that. Give him a chance. There’s a lot of Dom that you’ve not seen yet.’ He smiles tenderly and removes his hand.

  I stare at him through a film of tears. The kindness and softness that he’s showing has surprised me. He always looks so unreachable and aloof.

  ‘But he doesn’t want to be with me anymore,’ I say softly.

  ‘If you believed that you wouldn’t be here now.’

  I sniff. ‘So what do I do? Wait for him to come to me?’

  He shrugs. ‘I won’t tell you what to do, but if I were you I wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of something I wanted. I’d go and fight for it until it was mine or I had died trying. The journey has just begun and the destination could be a very beautiful place.’

  He stands, and walks away from me toward his desk. He comes back with a box of tissues. I pull out a couple and wipe my face. Then I stand.

  ‘I should be going,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll walk you to your car.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘I want to,’ he says with a gentle smile.

  I turn toward him. ‘Thank you, Jake.’

  ‘I’ll always be here for you. Don’t give your ear to the devil.’

  To love too much is to lick honey from the point of a knife.

  TWENTY-THREE

  I think I was OK while I was in Jake’s house. While I was saying goodbye to Lily and Liliana. I was even OK when Jake closed the car door for me and waved me away.

  It hits me when I’m on the motorway.

  Suddenly my windpipe feels like it is full of concrete. I can’t breathe. I swerve into the hard shoulder. Horns blare. I screech to a stop. I feel as if I’m suffocating. I open the car door and stumble out. I lurch to the edge of the road and collapse holding my throat. I take shallow breaths.

  On my hands and knees, I pant until I feel my airways open. Cars whoosh past at great speed. Somebody thinks to stop his car up ahead. A man runs toward me. I hold my hand up, the palm facing him to tell him not to come forward. He stops a few yards away.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  I nod.

  ‘Do you want me to call an ambulance?’

  I shake my
head.

  ‘You sure?’

  I nod and smile weakly at him.

  ‘Want me to wait with you?’

  I shake my head again, touched by the kindness of this stranger.

  He raises his hand in some kind of acknowledgment and, turning around, starts to walk away.

  ‘Hey,’ I call out.

  He turns back.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he says, and with a backward wave returns to his car. I watch him drive away. I sit by the side of the road, and, with the engine of my car still running, I burst into a flood of tears. When it’s all over, I get back into my car and drive home. There, I stand in the shower and let the water wash away my pain. I wrap myself in a robe and call Anna. I tell her everything.

  ‘I’m coming over,’ she says. ‘Put some shot glasses in the freezer.’

  ‘Oh, Anna,’ I sigh, tears filling my eyes.

  ‘We need to get drunk. It’s been ages.’

  She arrives at my doorstep with two bottles of her father’s homemade gooseberry vodka. She gets the cold glasses out of the freezer and pours us a shot each. The sweet, sharp taste is like summer in a glass.

  I down another shot and put the glass on the coffee table with a thump. One bottle is rolling on the floor and this bottle is almost half empty.

  Anna claps her hands excitedly. ‘I know what. You should become the coffee beans,’ she slurs.

  I frown blearily. ‘The coffee beans?’

  ‘You know. From the story on the Internet about the grandmother, the broccoli.’ She stops, her eyes narrowed. ‘No, wait. It wasn’t broccoli. It was carrots. Yeah, that’s right, the carrots, the eggs and the coffee beans.’

  ‘I don’t know the story.’

  She sits straighter. ‘This woman gets cheated on—’

  ‘That’s not my situation,’ I protest immediately.

  She waves her hand airily. ‘Just wait for the end, will ya?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘She goes to her grandmother and asks for her advice. The grandmother puts three pots of water on the stove. Into one pot she puts broccoli.’