by Ann Gimpel
The truck rocked to an abrupt halt. Stewart pushed a cautious thread of magic outward. What was wrong? Were there roadblocks in this country too?
Raised voices reached him, demanding the driver’s paperwork. When the driver asked for a reason, whoever stopped them said the truck had been seen illegally crossing the border.
Damn! Vampires must have located their dead companion and raised an alarm. Maybe they were aligned with law enforcement in this country too.
“I’m going out there to help the driver,” Stewart murmured, kicking himself for not being more vigilant. He’d been so focused on Yara, he hadn’t bothered to scan for threats outside the truck.
“I’m coming with you,” Jamal announced softly
“Let’s be smart about this.” Stewart kept his voice low. “We’ll be better off invisible.”
“Already thought of that.” The air around Jamal shimmered, and a corner of the canvas tarp lifted and fell back into place.
Stewart followed on Jamal’s heels. Night had fallen, and there was no moon. Why hadn’t Meara warned them? Vultures didn’t need much light to see. He hoped she hadn’t run into problems—or done something stupid like taking on several vampires by herself.
He crept around the side of the truck. A police van was parked across the road. Fortunately, there were no other cars. Two officers were engaged in a heated conversation with their driver. One brandished a set of handcuffs.
“We have to kill them,” Jamal said.
Much as Stewart had hoped for a transit of the Netherlands that didn’t draw attention to them, he didn’t see any other way out. Rendering the men unconscious would buy them time, but the minute they recovered, they’d radio in a description of the truck.
“Stewart!” Jamal’s tone was sharp even in telepathy.
“I’ll take the one nearest me.” Without stopping to think about it, he focused lethal magic to stop the man’s heart.
Both police officers hit the ground at the same time. Stewart loosed the magic that had kept him invisible, grabbed the one he’d killed, and dragged him into nearby underbrush. Jamal did the same. The radio in the police car crackled to life.
“How’s your Dutch?” Jamal asked.
“Not bad. Yours?”
Jamal stepped out of the tatters of his spell and gestured at the radio still spewing words. “Be my guest. If we’re ever in Egypt, I speak that language.”
Stewart picked up the mike and depressed the talk button. “Quiet,” he hissed. “You will give us away.”
He dropped the mike back into its slot and got into the car, moving it to the side of the roadway. For good measure, he raised the hood and pulled the distributor, tossing it into thick shrubbery. At least the next car traveling past wouldn’t speed into the nearest town and sound an alarm because a police car was blocking the road.
By the time he was done, the driver was back behind the wheel and Jamal had disappeared into the truck. Stewart followed him inside, and the truck rolled forward.
He set his jaw in a tense line, crawled back to where he’d been sitting, and looked at the circle of grim faces. Leaving a trail of dead bodies and disabled vehicles would not work in their favor. He didn’t need magic to know everyone was worried.
“We’re going to have to leave the truck,” he said. “It will make it much harder to remain together, but I don’t see where we have much choice.”
“It can’t be much farther to Harlingen,” Yara said. “This is a small country. We don’t want to bring the truck into the city, anyway. It has really narrow streets. It’s been a seaport since medieval times.”
“What do you suppose happened to Meara?” Michael asked.
Aye, we’d all like to know that.
“I have no idea,” Stewart replied.
“I hope she’s all right,” Ilona said.
“She’s been taking care of herself for a long time.” Jamal wrapped both arms around Ilona, and she leaned into him.
Stewart sent magic in a full circle. It was a risk, but running up against threats like the police car that had stopped them was a bigger one.
“Find anything?” Michael asked.
“Not yet. Hush. I need to concentrate.”
Chapter 4
Yara hadn’t been this worried since the early days after her caravan split up. Keeping this many people safe and out of trouble was an impossible task. She used her own earth-linked magic to determine how much farther it was to Harlingen. They’d been underway for something over two hours, so it couldn’t be that much farther.
Stewart’s dark gaze augured into her, and he gripped her wrist. “No magic. ’Tis bad enough I have my own deployed. Nothing like sending up a beacon announcing our location to anyone nearby who holds power.”
Her first instinct was to pull her wrist away, but the heat and energy from his body were tantalizing, electric. “No one can see mine,” she explained, resisting an impulse to lean closer to him.
“How is that possible, lass? I felt it,” he countered.
“That’s because you’re right next to me. I can blend my power with the earth. No one outside this truck should be able to detect what I’m doing.”
“Ye must needs say a wee bit more.”
Yara nodded. “This was one of the reasons other Rom gave me a wide berth. My magic was not only different from theirs, it defied any Romani ability they’d ever come across.”
“Probably because the other half of your blood is something else,” Jamal murmured.
Yara shrugged. “I have no idea. No one in our caravan was powerful enough to sort it out.”
“Meara is,” Jamal said.
“If we ever see her again,” Michael cut in. He screwed his face into a grimace. “I shouldn’t have said that out loud. It tempts fate, and not in good ways.”
Jamal cast a speculative glance her way. “Priestesses from some of the sects in ancient Egypt held magic similar to yours.”
“But my caravan never left Holland,” she protested, and then closed her teeth over her lower lip. Just because she’d never left this country didn’t mean someone from elsewhere couldn’t have spent an evening with her mother. Perhaps one of the gadjo had offered extra coin… She closed off that line of thought fast. It was disrespectful, and her mother wasn’t here to defend herself.
Stewart released her wrist. The place his fingers had closed around still felt warm from his touch. She had no idea exactly what he was, but his initial reassurance that he meant her no harm was true enough.
Hell, I’m not sure what I am. No reason to lose sleep because he’s a mystery as well.
“What were you looking for?” Ilona directed her question at Yara.
“Huh? When?”
“Just now, with your magic.”
“I wanted to tack down where we are. Harlingen is close. Something under forty miles. We could walk it in a pinch—in a couple of days.”
“Now there’s a piece of good news.” Tairin smiled.
“Smart of us to invite her along, eh?” Elliott chimed in.
“Me. Inviting her was my idea,” Aron said.
“So it was.” Ilona sent an indulgent look at her younger brother.
Stewart straightened his back and tucked his legs beneath him. “I dinna find aught magical within the range of my ability to check, but it doesna mean we’re safe. Those two police officers had zero power. They were clearly hunting for us, though.”
“Vampires sicced them on us.” Cadr spat the words.
“That was my take too,” Jamal said. “If we can see into the future, no doubt they can as well. Perhaps Hitler sent them into this country and France and goddess only knows how many other places to pave the way for the Reich.”
“Do they drive cars?” Yara asked.
“I have no idea,” Stewart replied. “But ye do raise an interesting point. If they could drive, why wouldn’t they come after us themselves? Why send local gendarmes to do their dirty work?”
“Doona look a gi
ft horse in the mouth,” Vreis muttered. “Ye dispatched those humans with far less fanfare than a pair of vampires would have caused.”
“How is killing them even possible?” Yara clasped her hands together. She hated talking about it, but she might need the information.
“Silver,” Stewart said. “Silver through the heart or beheading them, which is much harder.”
“That’s it?” Surprise flooded her. “Somehow I figured potent magic had to be part of their undoing.”
“Doona underestimate how difficult ’tis to get close enough to a vampire to kill one. Silver stakes and beheading mean ye must get within range of their mesmerism—and their fangs. They’re unnaturally fast and strong.”
“But they’re vain,” Elliott said. “Flattery can sometimes engage them sufficiently to divert their attention just long enough to trap them.”
“Divert their attention away from someone with a silver stake?” Yara furled a brow.
“Exactly.” Gregor, a powerfully built shifter with black hair and hazel eyes, who hadn’t spoken much since she got into the truck, nodded. “It’s how Ilona and I managed a vampire that had Aron targeted in Sachsenhausen-Oranienburg prison camp. We engaged him in idle chitchat so Jamal could sneak around behind and stake him.”
“Do we still have silver stakes with us?” Yara asked, determined to chase this line of inquiry to its conclusion. “If so, it would be good for me to know who carries them.”
“Smart lass.” Stewart nodded approvingly, and a pleased feeling started in her stomach, radiating outward. She wanted him to think well of her, and it surprised her. Back in her caravan days, she hadn’t given a damn what anyone thought.
Yeah, but I was fifteen and a pariah. Easier to hold myself aloof than twist myself into knots trying to please anyone.
“I have silver,” Michael said, the words breaking into her musings.
“As do both Vreis and I,” Cadr said.
“Jamal, Aron, and Elliott,” Tairin took over. “Stewart and Gregor too. The other thing we have, but not in such generous quantities, are these.” She pulled a leather pouch out from beneath her jacket.
Yara nodded, recognizing the amulet at once. “I used to make them for the gadjo. What’s in that one?”
“Holy water, consecrated earth, garlic paste, bits of a crucifix, and rosary beads.”
Yara rolled her eyes. “Are the priests in Germany more kindly disposed to gypsies than they are here?”
“No,” Elliott said, his tone somber, “but they recognize the need to fight evil and were willing to help us.”
“Since ye brought out your amulet”—Stewart focused on Tairin—“we should take stock of how many we have and make certain they’re allocated to Romani.”
“Right you are.” Tairin drew the leather cord out from around her neck and handed her amulet to Yara.
She took the leather, warm from Tairin’s body, and held it taking its measure. Her palm prickled from its power. “What exactly will this do?” She looped it around her neck and tucked in inside her clothing.
“Give you some protection against vampiric ability to hypnotize you,” Elliott answered.
Three more amulets appeared, but they were already with Romani, so no others changed hands.
“We could do with a few more, but it can’t be helped.” The shifter who’d identified himself as Nivkh said. “Half the Rom have amulets. If those of you who don’t pair up with someone who does—” He dusted his hands together. “I’m certain you’ll figure things out. Guard your eyes.”
“Why?” Yara took in the broad-shouldered man with white blond hair and ice blue eyes dressed in hunting leathers.
“I’m worried about Meara, and I’m going to search for her. If nothing is amiss, we’ll meet you on the docks in Harlingen.”
“And if ye require our help?” Stewart asked.
A rumbling snort blew past Nivkh’s lips. “If it’s so bad she and I can’t extricate ourselves, there won’t be much any of you can do to intervene.”
Light flared blue-white, absorbing Nivkh in its nimbus before it grew so bright Yara had to shut her eyes. When she opened them, the spot where he’d been was empty.
Questions tumbled through her mind. Who exactly was Nivkh, beyond being a bear shifter? Meara wore her power like a banner. If Nivkh held anywhere near her level of ability, he’d cloaked it well enough she’d barely given him a second glance.
Until a few moments ago.
No one said anything and minutes ticked past. Soon they’d be close enough to Harlingen to find a place to abandon the truck. She was getting ready to open her mouth and say as much, when the lumbering vehicle turned hard right and bumped along what had to be a primitive road.
She did a better job packaging up her belongings until everything was stuffed into four bulging cloth sacks.
Stewart leaned close. “Ye must pare it down to less than that. Take only what is essential and will fit in a single bag.”
“I’ll carry one of them,” Tairin said, and Yara remembered her story about having nothing left to lose.
“And I’ll take another,” Ilona spoke up. “The Nazis threw me into Dachau with nothing. I know how that feels.”
“I’ll carry another,” Jamal offered.
Yara blinked back tears. “You don’t have to. I—”
“We want to,” Tairin broke in. “In a way, it evens the score for the wrongs that were done to us.”
Yara glanced at Stewart. “Do you mind if they help me?”
“Of course not. I was just concerned ye’d be so burdened, ye’d not be able to keep up.” Emotion flickered in the depths of his eyes. Concern, but it was tempered with hope.
Yara handed sacks across the truck, touched beyond measure by how willing the others were to help her. She was a stranger in their midst, yet they’d accepted her without question. If the situation were reversed, would she have been as generous?
I hope so, but being alone has marked me, scarred me.
Not so much I can’t reverse the damage.
She sat straighter determined to be worthy of everyone’s kindness.
The truck lurched to a halt, and the driver killed the engine. “Those of you who aren’t carrying Yara’s things, grab a blanket.” Stewart said. “They might come in handy.” Wrapping one into a thick bundle, he tucked it beneath his arm and pulled back a corner of the canvas tarpaulin. Everyone jumped down from the truck.
A door slammed, and the driver walked back to where they milled about. “Where did Nivkh go?” he asked.
“After Meara,” Stewart replied. “Do ye know exactly where we are?”
“More or less.” The driver nodded. “I wanted a place no one would stumble across the truck unless they were looking for us. We’re about five miles from the docks as the crow flies.” He tilted his head and snuffled, scenting the air. “You can smell the sea.”
Yara almost muttered that statement would be true about most of the Netherlands, but she kept her mouth shut. It was a know-it-all thing to say and not needed.
The driver pointed to their right. “A faint track heads in a mostly western direction. Once I picked it out with my headlights, I stopped.”
“Plenty of night left,” Michael observed. “We’ll be on the docks well before dawn. What happens then? Do you suppose we’ll find a ship’s captain we can persuade to take us aboard?”
“Your guess on that is as good as mine,” Stewart said. “We can deploy magic and make humans do most anything, but it won’t be just the captain we’ll need to bend to our will. He’ll have crew.”
“Do we have money for passage?” Yara asked, hoping that maybe they wouldn’t have to do anything magical. Employing power in that way was forbidden, though she wasn’t certain who’d decreed it so.
“Nay. No passage money. We have Reichsmarks, but I doona wish to take the time to trade them for Guilders,” Stewart replied.
“No offense to our newest addition”—the driver glanced at Yara—�
��but the Dutch are a stuffy lot. We’d never find a bank willing to change our money since none of us have valid identification papers.”
Yara shrugged. “How could I take offense to a true statement? The Dutch were narrow-minded enough to declare gypsies outcasts.”
Stewart dropped a hand on her shoulder. “’Tisn’t forbidden to convince a ship’s captain we’d make good passengers. Or to magic our way through a bank transaction.”
She ducked from beneath his hand and turned to face him. “You were in my head.”
“Aye, lass. I’m in most people’s minds much of the time.”
“It is forbidden to use magic to take advantage of those without it.”
Ilona muffled a grunt that might have been laughter. “And just what were we doing every single time we cast a Tarot spread or told a fortune? Or handed over a collection of aromatic herbs under the guise of it being an irresistible love charm?”
Yara squared her shoulders. “Giving good measure for coin offered.” Heat suffused her face, and she inhaled briskly. “I see where you’re going with that. Damn it. They programmed me to think a certain way in the caravan, and I never got over it.”
“Because the programming came with a magical assist no doubt,” Michael said and winked.
“Too bad about our clothes,” Jamal cut in. “Travel would be easier in our animal forms, but then we’d be naked when we arrived on the docks.”
“This forest doesn’t extend more than maybe another half mile,” Yara said. “The terrain when we get near town is open farmland. You’d risk getting shot as wolves.”
“Good to know,” Jamal replied.
“Listen well.” Stewart clapped his hands together. “We’re splitting into four groups. We’ll be less noticeable that way. Yara, describe the dock area if ye can.”
She nodded. “It’s big. The entire western part of town fronts on water, and there are many, many docks. Lots of big sailboats too.”
“Hmmm. That might work even better,” Stewart said.
“What might?” Michael elbowed him.
“If we locate a sailboat no one’s used for a long time, we’ll take it, so long as it’s seaworthy. Easier than forcing our way aboard a commercial boat. I know how to sail, as do Cadr and Vreis. Everyone from my part of the world does.”