Hell on the Heart

by Nancy Brophy

  His loafer nudged her, trying to get a reaction from her. Cezi breathed deeply, unclenched her hands and tilted her head upward. When she caught his eye, she allowed her lips to curve in a slight grin. Let him decipher that look. In response Theron stumbled two steps backwards.

  “Is there a problem?” Poppy asked from above, annoyance in his tone. Cezi kept her gaze downward and listened to Theron sputter out a denial. Her victory was short-lived.

  “You’ve requested a Kris on behalf of several members of the Community. On what grounds?” Poppy’s words reminded her Theron wasn’t alone. He was merely the spokesperson for a group. People had the right to be afraid. She was duty-bound to do whatever they asked to keep the peace. Even if they banished her.

  “Czigany Romney’s willful ways and refusal to follow the dictates set out for our women have endangered the safety of each one of us and brought marimè upon all.”

  Theron’s voice faltered, but as he warmed to his words, his tone strengthened. She refused to turn her head to see how many nodding heads agreed with him. Although her cousins would never stand against family, some of them secretly supported him. Hadn’t Rolf expressed a similar sentiment a few days earlier?

  Another voice, not Poppy’s, asked from above, “And you believe this is all a result of specific actions undertaken by her?” Cezi raised her head too late to identify the speaker.

  “I do. While I respect the Romney’s, their lack of discipline has allowed her to flaunt the rules. If she’d married and had a family as the rest of our women do, she would not have met the gajikané in a public bar. We would not be under the FBI’s scrutiny and Rolf Romney, friend to us all, would not be hovering between life and death.”

  She wanted to protest. She hadn’t met Cain in a bar, but how much better would it sound to say she met him on a street at night? The Elders would have no choice but to ban her.

  “Do you wish to propose a solution?”

  Theron cleared his throat. Cezi firmed her lips, determined to adhere. She’d secretly taken her GED and checked online to see that Sam Houston State University in Huntsville offered a forensics program. If she were frugal her savings would pay for the first couple of semesters. How long would the ban last? Two years? Five years? More?

  “I have. The widower, Chike Akil has agreed to marry Czigany and allow her to work on his land.”

  Cezi jerked the head upward. Chike Akil? The keeper of the cemetery? Father to eleven children with the youngest being Cezi’s age? Were they insane?

  When Chike heard his name, he stepped forward, wearing his usual overalls and filthy t-shirt; the man was fifty-five or sixty years old. This was Theron’s suitable solution?

  She’d been going to be meek and quietly go along with the Elder’s rulings. To show her obedience she planned to say nothing. Never had it occurred to her that they would imprison her and saddle her in marriage to an old man who probably smelled. They might as well burn her at the stake for being a witch.

  Well, they hadn’t seen nothing yet. If they thought she was a witch now. Just wait…. No way would she go down without a fight.

  # # #

  Stillwater pressed against the back wall. The standing room-only crowd filled the space. His height gave him the advantage of seeing Czigany, even though she kneeled on the floor. Luca had agreed to his presence with the promise he say nothing and make no movement. To ensure he kept his word, Luca guarded one side and posted two of his sons, Tomas and Stefan on the other.

  When the grizzled, dirty old man stepped into the center of the room, Luca’s hand clenched his arm. Tomas and Stefan both hissed their displeasure.

  Tomas whispered, “He drove his wife to the grave with the birth of eleven children and at least four miscarriages. Each of his daughters was barely fifteen when he married them off to other clans.”

  He couldn’t believe Czigany would knuckle under without a fight. The only saving grace was the look she threw over her shoulder at Theron when the old man came forward.

  Next to him, Luca smothered a smile and mumbled, “Sic ‘em, Peata.”

  “Chike Akil,” Poppy gestured with his hand to encourage the older man to move closer. “You’re in agreement with this plan?”

  Akil flicked his eyes toward Theron, who nodded.

  “Up here. I want to hear your answers.” Poppy snapped. The Elders, following Poppy’s tone, frowned as a unit.

  He cleared his throat. “With conditions, I am willing to marry the Romney girl.”

  He wasn’t even sure of her name? This was a mockery of justice. Had Luca not extracted his promise, he would end this now. But then what? Tomorrow would be another day. If he took her away with him, her family would abandon her. His action might look memorable on a movie screen, but ultimately would suck in real life.

  “What conditions?” Poppy asked.

  Chike ticked his requests on his fingers as he stated them. “She must agree to be obedient, respectful, and soft spoken at all times and follow my instructions as the head of the family.”

  Poppy’s face gave nothing away. He merely asked, “Is that all?”

  The older man nodded, then added as an afterthought, “And she can’t have broken the code.”

  John wasn’t sure what the code was, but judging by the quick riveting of Nicholae’s and Czigany’s heads and the surprised look on their faces, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. A low jeering came from the audience, but Poppy’s glare quieted the crowd.

  “My daughter’s virtue remains unquestioned.” Nicholae took a menacing step toward Akil, his voice filled with conviction. “Vadoma can provide verification.”

  Virtue? The old man would refuse to marry her if she wasn’t a virgin? What was wrong with these people? Were they a throw back to another millennium? How the hell did such a backward society produce a jewel like Czigany? Why couldn’t they see how clever she was? How smart? How beautiful? How perfect?

  She didn’t need a man old enough to be her grandfather who wouldn’t appreciate her and would strangle her brilliance and suffocate her by insisting on a traditional role.

  Czigany needed someone strong, who could offer guidance and help channel her mind and spirit into productivity. A partner, not a jailer. He knew exactly who she needed. She needed him.

  But this group would bring back lynching if he stepped forward and demanded her hand. This wasn’t about marriage and protection, it was about control.

  They’d rather see her dead than married to a gajikané.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Up until the moment her father declared her a virgin, Cezi had been fully convinced the community would regard, even the thought of her marrying Chike Akil, a joke. The fact her father announced Vadoma would verify her virtue meant he considered Theron’s solution a possibility.

  She struggled to her feet, trying to find the words to say the thing that would put all this to rest. But rather than the calm words, she longed to scream, how can you do this to me?

  From the dais Poppy stretched a frail hand over the table and pointed at his great-granddaughter. “How well do you know Czigany?”

  Chike shuffled his feet while staring at the ground. “Not at all,” he mumbled.

  “So you’ve never spoken to her?”

  “No.”

  “Speak up.”

  “No.”

  “Do you want more children?”

  “No.”

  “But she would be the mother to your children?”

  A scattered outbreak of laughter followed. Could this get any worse?

  “No. She’s younger than my kids and even if she wasn’t, she’d be a bad influence.”

  A bad influence?

  “You’re willing to marry a woman you don’t respect? Have you been offered money?”

  The word ‘money’ had Chike raising his head. “There’d be the bride’s price.”

  “I see. What would you expect the bride’s price to be?”

  “Nicholae Romney only has one daughter. Hi
s company’s doing well. His daughter needs a husband. I would expect the money to be good.”

  “Czigany,” The sound of her name on Poppy’s lips pulled her out of her confusion. “Have you anything to say?”

  She took a deep breath. Her head ached, her heart hurt. She knew the truth. Without prompting, the words tumbled out of her mouth. “Banish me, if you need to, but I can’t marry Mr. Akil.”

  “Banish you?” Alarm filled Theron’s voice. “No banishment. Marriage. If Akil doesn’t appeal to you, choose someone else. We just want you safe.”

  Theron’s words surprised her. She looked at him. His furrowed brow echoed his concerned. Even more surprising was the identical scowl on her father’s face.

  She hated the light bulb that went off in her brain. “You set me up?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Did you think,” she asked her father, “I couldn’t get a husband unless you forced my hand?” Guilt written across her father’s face said it all. What a fool she’d been!

  For the first time since her arrival, she scanned the crowd, ignoring her father’s words as he proclaimed his innocence. In the back of the room, her uncle studied the pattern of the tile floor, avoiding her eyes. Family and friends filled the hall and the only person who didn’t appear to be insincere was the Indian. He wasn’t even bothering to hide his anger. If she nodded toward the door, he’d whisk her away from here.

  Her father’s cheeks blazed from the exertion of duplicity. If she relented in the least, he’d swoop her into his arms and she’d find a way to believe his words were fact. But that meant not only was everyone else deceiving her, she was lying to herself.

  She bit her lower lip and said the harshest words she’d ever said to her father. “You aren’t afraid I’ll remain single. Your fear is the gajikané.” As she spoke, she pointed at John. Heads turn in his direction. “Why’d you think I’d even consider an outsider?”

  When Nicholae said nothing, Cezi swirled back to look at the dais. Poppy’s face was a thundercloud as he glared at the entire group gathered in the hall. Two people in the room were angry on her behalf. It gave her courage.

  “There’s a college near Houston I’d like to attend. If I’m accepted, will the community pay for it?”

  The old man rose from his chair, his hand griping the table for support. His back bent by the years, but the pride in his eyes and the kind smile on his face made her overlook his frailties’.

  “Every year you wish to attend, we will pay for tuition, books, room and board. If you have extra expenses they will be covered.”

  The caveat of the cards became clear. The roadblocks to her hidden dreams, the ones she kept buried deep inside, vanished. In her family’s eyes she would always be crippled. The thing she dreaded the most, being banished, was the one thing that would set her free.

  Poppy scowled at the group, before adding. “The money will come from the community distribution fund, but particularly from the Romney family, the Davenport family and the Akil family. I’m ashamed of all of you.”

  He stepped down from the dais, grimaced, but as his body straightened he once again graced his great granddaughter with a smile and gallantly offered his arm. “Walk me home, please.”

  Together, they exited the side door as the room behind them exploded in arguments and accusations.

  # # #

  “Recite the prophesy.” They’d walked a few minutes in silence before Poppy voiced his request.

  Cezi blinked. Did she even remember all of it? “A hunter will fix you in his sites.”

  “Before that. A snake will offer you an apple. Wasn’t that what happened in town a few weeks ago?”

  “Uh-huh.” Cain had been a snake. And the apple he offered was for her to get in the car, so he could show her a good time. Only he didn’t plan for her to live to share the joy.

  “Family supports you, but a Shaman protects you. Who is the Shaman?” Poppy asked.

  “My mother? Her voice was in my head the whole time.”

  “That makes sense. A hunter will fix you in his sights, refers to the gunman on Friday night. While Cowboys surround the wagons, that was tonight. What’s the next part?”

  For a man who’d just scolded his family, he acted like their behavior was completely expected. Why was that? And what was the next line?

  “Your safety rides with the Indian,” Poppy prompted as though sensing she couldn’t remember.

  Had this happened already?

  “And the most important words of advice: In order to survive you must remain true to your heart even at the cost of sacred beliefs. It seems, my child, the testing has only begun.”

  “You don’t think it’s over?”

  “How can it possibly be over? Your heart’s a jumble.”

  # # #

  Lights burned at Uncle Luca’s home and while Cezi hadn’t been planning to stop, she needed to sort her thoughts. Her father had told her Rolf’s recovery went well, but she hadn’t seen it for herself. Right now, she wasn’t taking his word at face value.

  Instead of heading to the front door, she skirted the outside of the house to the backyard and the second floor deck that opened to several bedrooms. Rolf’s was the last one. As usual his door was unlocked.

  No lights. Closed blinds, but his scratchy gasps sounded painful.

  “Rolf?”

  He snorted and sputtered before relaxing into his shallow ragged breaths. She tried speaking his name again to no avail. A chair beside his bed meant other family members spent time in vigils. Cezi sank into the chair and clutched her cousin’s cool hand.

  “I’ve hit new depths for screwing up my life and you weren’t here to help.” In the dark she poured out the details of a day she’d like to forget, except for the part where she’d had the best sex of her life with Stillwater.

  But she’d managed to even mess up that. “Why’d you think I’d even consider an outsider?” As she’d uttered those words, Stillwater’s face had hardened into a mask she’d never get another chance to peak behind. She shouldn’t have found that devastating, yet she did.

  In slightly over twenty-four hours, every man she counted on was out of the picture. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Had it not been two am, Stillwater would have walked to town and found a motel room - anything to be away from the gypsies. His jaw ached from being tightly clenched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to punch something as much as now.

  Instead he lay in the cozy bed of Czigany’s childhood home and watched the minutes tick by, while he debated how to handle the situation when his team showed up in the morning. For the third time in as many minutes, he flipped his pillow searching for a cooler side.

  Her words rang in his ears. “Why’d you think I’d even consider an outsider?” And she’d looked straight at him when she’d spoken. Just in case he hadn’t gotten the message. Get over it, bub, you were a diversion. Nothing more than stormy afternoon fling. He wanted more. She didn’t.

  “Please don’t say you’re sorry or that the sex was a mistake.” What a laugh. He’d totally misread her meaning. He’d never had to put himself on the line for a woman before, and he wasn’t good at it. But still, he’d done it and she’d kicked him in the teeth. Nice.

  His phone, set to vibrate from the meeting, now buzzed and danced around the nightstand. “Stillwater.”

  “SAIC Greenberg, FBI, El Paso. Washington wanted to keep you in the loop. You’ve been following a group of white slavers whose MO includes a private jet and a black limo?”

  El Paso? “Yeah.”

  “This evening across the border, a house about fifty miles southeast of here, detonated, killing eleven people. We think it was where they were holding your girls.”

  “Detonated? How?”

  “Looks like C4.”

  “So it wasn’t an accident?”

  “No. Five of the deaths were Mexican Police who triggered the explosion by burstin
g through a rear door to rescue a group of hostages.”

  “What kind of hostages?”

  “Mexican authorities couldn’t be sure. Through the window they saw, six bound personages in a room devoid of furniture.”

  “Personages?” He rubbed his forehead, trying to visualize a personage.

  “The group was tied together and all wore pants, hoodies and masks. It has since been determined three were woman identified as cooks and housekeepers, two were male gardeners and one a handyman. Their families reported them missing.”

  “Anything left of the house?”

  “A pile of rubble. But the place had been cleaned out. According the wife of the handy man, everyone had been called in for the weekend to help pack up the furnishings with the promise of ‘mucho dinaro,’ paid in cash. The families also told us that girls came and went with regularity.”

  “Anything else of interest?”

  “A fresh grave of a Caucasian girl was found in the garden, maybe two weeks old. Any clues to her identity?”

  “Hair color?”

  “Brunette. Dark and very long.”

  “I’ll bet she’s the girl out of Chicago. It’d fit the time frame. A couple members of my team will arrive within a few hours and can fill you in on the details. Can you tell if they crossed the border?”

  “Black limo driven by Elijah J. Kirgengard followed by a tan fifteen-seat passenger van driven by Paul Shriver crossed at nine-seventeen last night.”

  “I’m going to put out an APB on the vehicles.”

  “Already done.”