by Ann Gimpel
“That’s because you don’t know much about me at all.” Fury and disappointment streamed from Michael, but he let Jamal lead him to where Stewart presumed everyone else was.
The moonlit path shone before their hull, veering left as it passed the breakwater. He’d been worried about transiting the barrier. Sometimes rocks were close to the surface, and he hadn’t had a chance to hunt for a helmsman’s cabin that might have nautical charts.
The tug of power lessened and then fell away, and the moon gave up its struggle to remain in view. None of that mattered. They were underway, the waters of the North Sea lapping beneath them. A brisk breeze that had nothing to do with magic powered them forward. He let go of Vreis and clapped him on the back.
“We did it! Thank you.”
“Nay, thank you. Ye’re the one with most of the power. I just went along for the ride.”
“And quite a ride it was.” Stewart offered heartfelt prayers to Danu and Arianrhod before considering what came next.
He grimaced. Time to face the music—with everyone. Once that task was behind him, they could plan for the future.
He turned to Vreis. “Take stock of what we have aboard. See about extra canvas, provisions, anything ye can locate, and report back to me.”
“Will do. I’m curious what we have to work with too. In truth, I’m still figuring out precisely why this ship was abandoned.”
“Mayhap something ye unearth will answer that question.”
“Perhaps.” Vreis sprinted toward stairs leading to the lower decks.
“Where are we going?” Cadr tucked a hand around his mouth to make himself heard.
Stewart thought about it. They had two choices. Make landfall as soon as possible, or remain in the boat until they got to Scotland. He stopped next to where Cadr stood, gripping the large wheel. “Easier to travel north by sea.”
“Edinburgh?” Cadr raised a dark brow.
“If we can get that far, ’twould simplify the rest of things.”
Cadr grinned rakishly. “I’m so glad ye dinna force us south to Dover. I wasna looking forward to sneaking across the length of England. They booted us out once for the crime of practicing our magic.”
“Aye, they did indeed.” Stewart mock slugged Cadr. “Times have changed, though. Modern man doesna recognize magic—in anyone. We’d likely have been safe enough, but we can make far better time this way. Three days, give or take, and we’ll sail into Edinburgh—so long as a storm doesna slow our progress.”
“I agree with your time estimate, but ye’re wrong about modern man failing to recognize magic. Hitler knows vampires are magical beings. He’s unscrupulous enough to leverage any angle, if he thinks it will strengthen his thousand year Reich.”
“Mayhap he simply sees them as a bizarre cult steeped in blood and death.” Stewart shrugged. “I need to square things with the others. No use pretending to be Romani any longer.”
He crossed the deck to where everyone huddled in a tight knot in the bow, watching the coastline recede in a damp, gray dawn. “What happened with the vampires?”
Tairin faced him and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “It was the oddest thing. One moment, they were plying that black-tipped fire they throw around. The next, they were enveloped in a thick, gunmetal cloud.”
“I could see them through it,” Yara said, “but no one else could. It was like they’d been paralyzed. Frozen in place.”
“What happened then?” Stewart pressed.
“Nothing,” Yara replied. “The boat picked up speed, and water formed a vortex between us and them. When it cleared, the cloud was gone, but so were they.”
Stewart raked a hand through his hair, much of which had come loose from its braids. “Did any of you feel them die?”
“I didn’t.” Aron’s eyes shone with wonder. “That thing you did, it was astonishing. Were you born with power like that? Or did you have to work to develop it?”
Ilona drew her brother against her and mouthed, “Hush. Not now.”
“I don’t believe the vampires are dead,” Gregor said and leaned close. “No smell of rot and no bones scattered on the quay. What the hell are you? Not a Romani. Not a shifter.” He shook his head hard enough dark hair fell into his eyes, but he shoved it out of the way. “Not that I’m complaining or ungrateful, mind you. That trick you did where you called the wind to your bidding pulled our bacon out of the flames.”
Stewart stood straight, his shoulders squared. “I’m a Druid. At one time, I was the highest-ranking priest in the British Isles. I’m old, but there are shifters far older than I, like Meara and Nivkh. Anubis too afore his fall from grace. Cadr and Vreis are Druids as well. When sentiment rose against magic wielders all across Britain, we left. ’Twas either that or risk being hanged.”
“Why the hell choose Romani caravans as cover?” Michael spoke up. Bitterness underscored his question.
Stewart turned his hands palms upward. “Why not? ’Twas the last place I’d be able to work magic of any fashion in the modern world. I owe you an apology for deceiving you and the other caravan leaders, but I never once took advantage of my position. I strengthened my caravans and cared for my people as a leader should.”
“That’s not the point,” Michael broke in.
“What is?” Stewart countered. “Ye feel deceived. I broke trust by not revealing what I was, and I apologize for that. When ye’re not as angry, ye’ll see there were few paths open to me. I wished to keep Cadr and Vreis close, and I have utmost respect for the Romani people. I did everything I could to preserve and strengthen their magic, though ’twas an uphill battle.”
Tairin pushed closer. “Seems many of us have experience hiding who and what we are.”
“I certainly did enough of it.” Yara trained her astute gaze on him.
“Good to know I dinna have a corner on that particular market.” Stewart tamped back a grin that wanted out.
Vreis pelted toward them, a drawn look on his face and his blue eyes pinched at the corners. “I figured out why this boat sat unused.” Breath whistled from between his clenched teeth.
Stewart faced him. Was this when they discovered they’d chosen badly? In the middle of the North Sea when retreat was impossible? No one had sensed the vampires die, nor seen their bodies wither into bony corpses, which probably meant they’d leveraged enough of their own power to escape. But maybe this wasn’t about vampires.
“Well? Out with it.”
“I found four bodies in the forward hold. They’re wrapped in sacking, but they died of plague if I’m any judge.”
“We’re immune,” Jamal said.
“We being shifters?” Stewart requested clarification, and Jamal nodded.
“I did what testing I could with magic,” Vreis went on. “It appears they’ve been dead for a few months. Doesn’t that mean the infection would die along with them?”
Stewart thought back to when plague swept through England in 1665. “Did ye find any dead rats?” he asked Vreis.
“Och aye, many. How did ye know?”
“They fed off the corpses, got the disease, and died. My guess is we’re safe enough.”
“We can move the dead off the ship,” Gregor said.
“And purify the hold with magic,” Jamal added. Without waiting for Stewart to bless their plan, he and Gregor hastened away from the group.
“I want to come.” Aron started after them, but Ilona sprinted toward him and grasped his upper arm.
“Nope. Not on your life. You’re not a shifter, hence you’re not immune.”
“But Stewart said the disease can’t hurt anyone.”
She eyed him sternly. “I’d just as soon not test that theory. By the goddess, Aron, don’t try my patience.”
“Like you tried mine when you were missing for two days,” he shot back.
Stewart made a chopping motion with one hand. “Enough. Everyone might want to get some rest. Once Vreis takes stock of what we have aboard, we’ll assign—
” The cry of a vulture on the hunt drowned out the last of his words.
He glanced skyward, relieved beyond measure to see Meara winging toward them. Where the hell was Nivkh?
The raptor circled, clearly intent on landing, and Stewart figured he’d find out soon enough.
Chapter 6
Yara glanced skyward, heartened to see the vulture shifter’s wings cutting through a gray dawn. In the brief time since she’d been with the small group of shifters and Romani, they’d become like family. Perhaps she’d been far lonelier than she’d allowed herself to acknowledge. Watching Stewart shape and form magic to bend the wind to his bidding had kindled a bone-deep longing within her. The power flowing from him, Cadr, and Vreis resonated in a way Romani magic never had.
Why was that?
Was her magic more closely aligned with theirs?
She shook her head to clear her jumbled thoughts. Conversation ebbed and flowed around her as everyone waited for Meara to join them. She turned to Ilona, who stood closest to her. “Why does Meara have so much more power than the other shifters?”
Ilona’s mouth twisted downward. “Keep in mind that being a shifter is quite new for me, so I don’t know nearly as much as the other shifters might. Meara is one of the first shifters. Rather like a god to the rest of them. Except I guess it would be the rest of us.”
“The other one, Nivkh. Is he a first shifter as well?”
Ilona nodded. “Yes. You really should ask Jamal or Gregor or Tairin. Each of the varieties of shifter has a first that represents them. Except maybe wolves. I was there when the first wolf was snared and killed because he’d sold out to a vampire.”
“I bet that’s quite a story,” Yara murmured.
“It is. If you remind me, I’ll tell you the parts I know. My wolf holds knowledge too, far more than I do when it comes to things that are related to being a shifter. Before I forget, your sacks are piled on the far side of the wheel. We put them there after we came aboard.”
Yara patted her own sack that hung suspended on a strap slung over one shoulder. “Thanks. It seems silly for me to have brought anything, but since I did, maybe some of it will come in useful.”
“Was it mostly clothes?” Ilona furled her brows. “My bag seemed too heavy for a few skirts and jackets.”
“Most of my things are magical aids. Candles. Herbs. Wands. You must’ve gotten the bag with the grimoire in it. That old book weighs a ton.”
“Grimoire? Are you a witch?” She grinned. “Come on. Fess up. This is a day for people to discard their disguises.”
Yara closed her teeth over her lower lip. “I don’t know exactly what I am. Rom magic never felt like a good fit even though I practiced plenty of it.” She came close to sharing the odd attraction she’d felt when Stewart shaped the weather to his bidding, but it sounded so farfetched, she swallowed the words unspoken.
“Witches have grimoires,” Ilona persisted. “Did you get the spell book from a witch?”
Heat rose from her chest until Yara figured she had to be bright red. “I— I found the book. I just called it that because it was a magical book, but not anything like Rom lore tomes. It was in the cave near where you first saw me. I waited for someone to return to claim it, but no one ever did.” She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable under Ilona’s frank stare. “I asked the book if it were willing to go with me, and it flipped to a passage that urged me to take it.”
Fascination lit the backs of Ilona’s gray eyes with a warm glow. “A sentient book. I’ve heard of such things. I’d love to spend some time with it—if it would let me.” She paused a beat. “I bet it’s part of the reason you picked that cave in the first place. It was waiting for you.”
Yara grew warmer still. She’d wondered the same thing Ilona had just given voice to, but a book with magic strong enough to craft its own destiny had seemed absurd. She had no idea how the leather-bound tome would react to anyone else dipping into its pages, but she didn’t want to hurt Ilona’s feelings so she smiled encouragingly.
The vulture slipped downward, shifting in an intense flash of brilliance. When the light cleared, Meara stood in front of them in her human body.
“Where’s Nivkh?” Stewart asked.
“How should I know?” Meara’s nostrils flared with annoyance. “He was with you when I left.”
“He went to look for you,” Aron said and then hurried on. “That thing you did to me. It made me immune to vampire mind control. Thank you so much.” Before Ilona could make a grab for him, he launched himself at Meara and wound his arms around her.
“You’re most welcome, young man. Now take your hands off me.” Meara grasped his shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “Touching another without asking first is disrespectful.”
Ilona hurried forward and wrapped a hand around her brother’s arm. “Sorry,” she told Meara. “It won’t happen again.”
Aron twisted in her grasp. “You’re supposed to ask before you touch me,” he informed her loftily, unfazed by Meara’s rebuke.
“That rule doesn’t apply for people you’re related to,” she told him, looking like she was trying not to laugh.
Stewart glanced at the group still milling about. “There’s a deck just below this one. It should have cabins and bunks. Take the blankets. Try to rest a bit while we sort things out.”
“Grand idea.” Ilona tugged on her brother. “Shall we?”
“No. I want to stay and listen to—”
“Didn’t Valentin teach you to defer to your elders?” Michael’s tone was harsh.
“Sure.” Aron looked down. “But he’s not here.”
“I am,” Michael said. “Go with your sister. In fact, we’ll all join both of you.”
Yara watched shifters and Romani leave in groups of twos and threes until only Stewart and Meara remained. She should leave too, but she didn’t want to go. Keyed up from all the power still simmering in the salt air, she inhaled hungrily, sucking it down like nectar.
“Lass—” Stewart began.
“Let her remain if she wishes,” Meara broke in.
A clatter of footsteps announced Jamal and Gregor with a body suspended between them. Yara pushed a thread of power outward hunting for the wrongness she associated with illness. It was there, but subtle. The men chucked the tarp-wrapped body over the side.
“We dropped the dead rats out a porthole on the lower deck,” Jamal announced.
“Not sure we got them all.” Gregor rolled his hazel eyes. “Figured once we moved the other three bodies out of there, I’d shift and make certain we didn’t miss any.”
“Any clues to who the people might have been?” Meara asked.
“Not on their corpses,” Jamal replied. “Not so much as a wallet, watch, or ring, which suggests whoever dumped them here either didn’t know enough about plague to be frightened by it—”
“Probably medical personnel,” Meara interrupted. “Practical medical personnel with protective gear who understood money isn’t worth much to a dead man.”
“One was a woman,” Gregor said.
“Odd they didn’t burn the corpses and commandeer the boat,” Stewart mused. “’Tis more to this tale. We have yet to reach to bottom of it.”
Meara turned her hands palms up. “You needed a vessel, and this one presented itself. No need to dig too deep.”
“Those bodies won’t move themselves.” Jamal prodded Gregor, and the two men disappeared through the door leading to a stairwell.
Meara cracked a wry smile. “Convenient you made it across the bay and into the North Sea. Breeze happened to show up precisely when you needed it?”
“What? Were ye airborne and watching the whole thing?”
“Now that you mention it, I was.”
Stewart didn’t know whether to laugh or punch her. “What happened to the vampires? Did ye intervene?” He moved a step nearer the vulture shifter.
“Yes. Saltwater weakens them. It attacks the blood castings that give them power over o
thers. Eventually, they age, wither, and die the deaths they should have experienced long ago.”
“Do you know why that is?” Yara clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I should listen, not ask questions.”
Meara narrowed her eyes. “True enough, but I’ll answer that one. Water is the oldest and most powerful of the elements. It’s hard to control, and most magic wielders prefer to dabble with earth, air, and fire. The blood spells that make new vampires are aligned with fire. It explains why so much of what vampires do is accompanied by those disgusting black-tipped flames.”
“I understand.” Yara nodded, unable to quell her enthusiasm. “Water trumps fire every single time, but why would saltwater be more effective than, say, a lake?”
“Don’t push your luck, child. That was one more question, but a well-considered one. If you think about the composition of blood, it’s closer to saltwater than drinking water.”
“Thank you.” Yara clasped her hands in front of herself as a reminder to keep her mouth shut.
“What do ye think we should do about Nivkh?” Stewart asked and creased his forehead into a mass of concerned wrinkles.
“If that’s a not-so-subtle way of sending me to hunt for him, it won’t work. Nivkh is a first shifter. He has earth magic to burn, and he can take care of himself. Beyond that, he’s close to immortal. He’ll find us in Scotland.”
“If he can. Damn it. I should have told him not to leave.” Stewart exhaled noisily.
Meara quirked a silver brow. “Do you believe that would have done the least bit of good?”
Stewart’s harsh expression softened. “Nay. He’s been making his own decisions for longer than I’ve been alive.” Another breath whooshed from him. “What comes next?”
“Aren’t you going to ask where I went? What I did?”
“Has it come to where I must dig for information?” His brogue thickened. “If ye’ve something to tell me, by all means do so.”
“Touché. Eh, maybe the news is disturbing enough, I’m looking for any excuse to keep it to myself.”