by Ann Gimpel
“Who’s coming this way?” she called, pleased her voice hadn’t trembled.
A tall, thin woman with silver hair that cascaded to the ground walked around a thick tree bole and entered the clearing. Her amber eyes gleamed with intelligence, and she held herself ramrod straight.
“My name is Meara. We mean you no harm.”
Three others melted out of the forest and flanked Meara. Two were men, one with long black hair, and the other with shorter tawny locks. The woman’s hair fell to her waist and was the same shade as one of the men’s, a rich, tawny chestnut. The men wore simple, dark trousers and dark jackets. The woman was dressed in a colorful skirt and tunic with a jacket tossed over her shoulders, very much like a Rom might have attired herself.
Ilona scanned them with power, and her eyes widened. “Why two of you are Romani. Partway at least.”
The woman with tawny hair stepped forward. Her deep brown eyes with amber irises crinkled at the corners when she smiled, and she extended a hand. “Right you are. I’m half Romani, and my name is Tairin.”
Ilona clasped her extended hand and didn’t want to let go. For all her inner reassurances about being fine by herself, she’d missed the presence of others. A lot.
“And I’m Elliott.” The man with black hair stepped forward, draping an arm around Tairin. “I’m not sure what I am now, but I was a Romani seer for most of my life.” His eyes, which were a clear, pure blue, twinkled merrily.
“I’m Jamal.” The other man joined them. “Tairin’s father.”
Ilona let go of Tairin and tried to see into him. Magic boiled through Jamal, strong magic, but she couldn’t figure out what he was. He was a beautiful man, though, with the same liquid, dark eyes as his daughter. Tall and slabbed with muscle, he radiated an understated menace, but it wasn’t directed at her.
“What exactly are you?” Ilona blurted. Perhaps she’d made a mistake being so bold, but this man couldn’t be the source of Tairin’s Romani blood.
The woman, who was cloaked in her silver-gray hair and nothing else, closed from one side. “He’s a shifter like me, and you have nothing to fear from any of us.”
“Shifters?” Ilona’s breathing quickened. Romani hated shifters, and vice versa. So much so, any contact at all was forbidden, which was why she’d only glimpsed them from afar. Her eyes darted from side to side, but flight was impossible. These people could morph into animals and run her down. Once they did, they’d have teeth, claws, and could tear her limb from limb. Her stomach clenched, and it took all her willpower not to wind her arms around herself and wail.
Tairin reached for her again. “Take my hand. It’s all right. We sensed you here by yourself—actually, Meara did—and we wished to offer assistance if you need or want any. If not, we’ll be on our way.”
Ilona stared at Tairin’s hand. The hand had given her comfort before, but she didn’t clasp it. Would the other woman snare her with magic? Force her to do something she didn’t want to?
Tairin shook her head. “No. I’d never do anything like that. And yes, I helped myself to your thoughts.” She dropped her hand to her side and squared her shoulders. “You probably don’t know much about shifters. Most Rom don’t, but we’re long lived. Two hundred years ago, I was run out of my caravan after my first shift. Life on the road was hard. So hard I spent a very long time as a wolf. It was my idea to see if we could help you.”
She leveled her dark gaze on Ilona. “Can we? Why are you out here all by yourself?”
The kindness flowing from Tairin undid Ilona and tears welled. She blinked them back. “I—” She choked on the words, cleared her throat, and tried again. “I was with Valentin’s caravan. The Nazis took me from the market in Augsburg and put me in Dachau.”
Elliott’s eyes widened, and a look of naked admiration washed over his face. “You escaped.”
Ilona nodded. “It was either that or die.” She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “Not much of a choice when you got down to it.”
“We’re headed toward two caravans setting up not far from here,” Meara broke in. “If you’d like to come with us, at least there will be blankets and fires and food.”
“But you’re shifters,” Ilona sputtered. “Rom won’t accept you.”
“That’s the kind of thinking that got Mother burned alive and cut me off from the shifter half of my kinfolk. That hatred meant I was cast adrift with nothing but my wolf.” Tairin’s pleasant expression vanished, replaced by something much harder.
Ilona thought she should keep quiet, but macabre curiosity drove her, and she asked, “How old were you when that happened?”
“Thirteen. I know all about choices where death is the alternative.” Tairin tipped her chin upward. “Are you coming with us? If not, we’ll leave you to your evening.”
“Don’t waste a moment worrying we’ll tell anyone about finding you,” Elliott said reassuringly. “We’re trying to stay one step of the Nazis and vampires too.”
Ilona inhaled raggedly, and her heart skipped several beats. “Then I’m not the only one who’s seen them.”
“If by them, you mean vampires,” Meara said dryly, “you are not. We killed a dozen quite recently, but there are many more where they came from.”
“We? You and the Romani? Working together?” Ilona’s voice came out as a squeak.
“Yes. That we,” Jamal replied, dry humor lining his words. “What’s your name? We gave you ours.”
“Ilona. Ilona Lovas.”
“Well, Ilona Lovas,” he went on, his gaze never leaving her, “I don’t want to hurry you, but you have to decide. We’re late meeting the caravans as it is. If vampires are lurking, the gypsies will need our help.”
Ilona turned away. It wasn’t easy. She could have spent forever staring at Jamal, but that was stupid and beside the point. He might be beautiful and alluring, but he was a shifter. She was Rom. No future in that.
I’m being ridiculous. I could be dead tomorrow.
Ilona refocused. What should she do? She’d sworn off caravans, but these were in hiding so maybe they’d be safe for a little while. She turned back to face everyone. “Which caravans are they? Who are the leaders?”
“Michael and Stewart,” Elliott replied. “I was seer for all the caravans, and I know Valentin.”
“You wouldn’t make me go back to him? Not that he was cruel to me,” she hurried on, “but it’s not safe being a gypsy in a city anymore. If they could abduct me from the marketplace, they could take anyone. I—”
“No, I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to. Besides, I’d be surprised if any of us saw any of the other caravans again.” Elliott cut into her flow of words. “The ten others each had plans. Some were remaining in Germany. Others were going to try to leave.”
“If I go with you and it doesn’t feel right…”
“You’d be free to leave,” Tairin reassured her. “You’re a gypsy, not a prisoner.”
A tightly wound place inside Ilona loosened a little. “Okay. Thank you for your offer. I deeply appreciate it. Lead out, and I’ll try not to hold you back.”
Meara nodded. “Good choice. You’re scared, but you’re not letting it stand in your way. Plus, your magic is strong. You’ll be an asset.” She focused on the others. “I’m flying back to reassure the others nothing happened to us. See you soon.”
“Guard your eyes,” Jamal cautioned.
Ilona shut her eyes, but a flash of light seared her corneas anyway. When she pried her lids open, a large, black vulture winged away from them, flapping hard.
“That’s her?” Ilona pointed with an unsteady hand.
“Yes. Meara was one of the first of us, and her magic is abundant and powerful,” Jamal replied.
“Are all of you birds?” Ilona asked, fascinated in spite of herself.
“No. We’re wolves,” Tairin replied. “Let’s get moving. We’ll lose the light soon.”
Ilona fell into step next to her. Elliott was on her
other side and Jamal behind them. “What other forms can shifters take?” she asked.
“Bears, coyotes, mountain lions, hawks,” Tairin rattled off. “Lots of possibilities, and I’m sure I missed a few.”
“You were raised Romani?” Ilona looked sidelong at Tairin and saw her nod.
“Not just raised Rom. Once I stopped being a wolf, I retreated to Rom caravans. Had to switch them out every twenty years or so—”
“Otherwise the women would notice you weren’t aging,” Ilona broke in.
“Exactly. You know how it is. Everyone wants to be youngest, prettiest, but there’s not much tolerance for anyone who remains that way.” Tairin laughed, and the sound warmed Ilona’s heart.
“Never thought I’d hear laughter again. Or laugh myself.”
“How’d you escape Dachau?”
“Invisibility spell plus suggestion. Eventually, the guards and my fellow prisoners will remember me and wonder what the hell happened.”
“But you’ve moved beyond their reach. Who taught you magic?” Tairin narrowed her eyes. “Valentin never struck me as particularly competent in that regard.”
Ilona thinned her lips into a tight line. “He’s not, but there are several older women in his caravan who command potent magic. One was my mother.”
“Was? What happened to her?”
“She caught pneumonia. We were between cities. By the time we got to Berlin and I took her to a hospital, she was too far gone for them to save her.” A familiar, dull ache settled behind Ilona’s breastbone. Her mother had died last winter, almost a year ago, but she still missed her.
“And your father?” Tairin probed.
“Never knew who he was. Mother never would tell me, and after a while I stopped asking.”
When she looked up, Ilona saw a wagon and team parked behind a sleek dark car. “These are yours?”
“Yes. We were on our way to talk with you earlier in our shifted forms, but Meara overflew where you were and called us back. Said you were skittish and four shifters would scare the daylights out of you.”
Ilona snorted. “Three wolves and a vulture would have been a little hard to wrap my mind around, yeah.” She shook her head. “I’m still having trouble assimilating Rom working side-by-side with shifters. It seems wrong.”
“But it isn’t. Not really. The lore books were what kept the old rules in play. Apparently, years back, a mixed blood shifter mated with a mixed blood Rom and produced a hell-spawned child. No one had any idea about genetics hundreds of years ago, so they created a blanket rule that Rom and shifters couldn’t even talk with one another.”
Tairin paused to take a breath. “Turns out our magic actually strengthens when we work together. Shifter magic grows more powerful, but so does Romani. It’s how we defeated a nest of a dozen vampires.”
Jamal pulled around them, heading for the automobile. “You can ride with me, Ilona,” he called over one shoulder.
Her heart did a funny little dance in her chest, but she told it to stand down. He’d offered her a ride to the caravans. He had space in his car. If she didn’t go with him, she’d be stuck riding in the back of the wagon.
Tairin squeezed her hand. “See you very soon. The caravans are only about a mile from here. I want to hear about the vampires you saw. The men will want to know too.”
“Yes,” Elliott seconded. “We certainly will.”
“It was only one vampire,” Ilona said. “And I’m not certain that’s what it was. It was stunning and dressed in a lovely robe, and it had fangs and felt like death simmered within it.”
“That was a vampire.” Tairin skinned her lips back from her teeth, adding a feral aspect to her beauty.
Elliott hooked two fingers into the Romani sign against evil. “See you soon, Ilona. I’m glad you took a chance on us. This is no time for anyone to be by themselves.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she trotted to the black car and got in. Jamal fired the engine and the car lurched slowly down the rutted track. She tried out and discarded several conversational gambits. Jamal wasn’t one of the gadjos. If she were going to talk with him, it had to be real, not something conjured because she wanted him to trust her.
“Tell me about yourself.” He looked at her. “Nothing that makes you uncomfortable. Maybe we could talk about magic and how you learned about your power.”
“Gypsies start young,” she began.
“I know,” he broke in. “I traveled with a caravan for more than a dozen years.”
“You did?” Her voice cracked and broke. “When? How?”
“How else?” His deep, rich voice soothed and excited her at the same time. “By pretending to be one of you.”
Chapter 4
Jamal kept his gaze on the rutted track to avoid staring at Ilona. His first glimpse of her in the clearing had mesmerized him. He’d avoided women since his ill-fated pairing with Aneksi imploded, leaving heartbreak and destruction in its wake. What could he possibly offer any woman beyond his own broken dreams and ravaged heart?
No relationship could survive secrets, and his humiliation and guilt over Aneksi and Tairin had been far too pervasive to gloss over and pretend they didn’t exist. Besides, any shifter with marginal magic could have plucked his mind bare of its shame-tinged contents.
Easier to remain by himself.
What was it about Ilona that caught his eye? She was average height for a woman and quite thin, but that went with escape from Dachau where rations had to have been scant. Long, dark hair curled down her shoulders and cascaded to waist level. Her eyes, set in a high cheek boned face, were her most arresting feature. A pure, pale gray, they reminded him of a stormy sky just before a rainstorm. Beyond that, she held herself proud and straight, her chin tilted at a defiant angle.
No matter what she’d lived through, it hadn’t quashed her spirit. And her magic was strong. Meara had called that one. Ilona would be quite an asset in the Rom encampment. Elliott’s power had rivaled hers before he’d added shifter magic to the mix, but Ilona was stronger than any of the others in Michael’s or Stewart’s caravans.
Except maybe Stewart, who was an unknown quantity.
Having her so close was intoxicating. She smelled of wildflowers and vanilla. Perhaps she knew he was thinking about her because she looked at him, and her mouth—a beautifully formed mouth with full lips—broke into half a smile.
“Tell me about yourself.” He met her forthright gaze and tried not to get lost in her eyes. “Nothing that makes you uncomfortable. Maybe we could talk about magic and how you learned about your power.”
“Gypsies start young,” she replied.
“I know,” he broke in. “I traveled with a caravan for a dozen years.”
“You did?” Her voice cracked and broke. “When? How?”
“How else? By pretending to be one of you.”
She crinkled her forehead in concentration. “Was that when you were with Tairin’s mother? How long ago?”
“Yes. It’s the only time I traveled with a caravan. What I did, deceiving everyone, was wrong. Aneksi and I were thoughtless and self-indulgent. We might have been young, but that was no excuse. Tairin was born roughly two hundred thirteen years ago.”
A small gasp whooshed from Ilona. “Oh my. Tairin said long-lived. She even said two hundred years, but it didn’t exactly sink in. Did Tairin’s mother know what you were?”
“Of course, and we shielded that knowledge from the rest of her kin. And from our daughter.” Jamal inhaled sharply. There. He’d actually admitted his sin out loud for the first time since the council grilled him two centuries before. It hadn’t been as impossible as he’d feared, but he wanted to stop while he was ahead. Before Ilona asked any uncomfortable questions, like how could Tairin not have known what she was?
“I’d rather have you tell me about yourself,” he said. The car sloughed sideways, its springs squealing loudly, and he corrected the steering.
“If I do, will you teach me to
drive?” She cast an appraising look his way. “I’ve wanted to learn for a long time, but our caravan only had wagons.”
Jamal couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing.
Color splotched Ilona’s weather-stained skin, spreading across her defined cheekbones. “What’s so funny?” she gritted out. “If you don’t want to, saying no is sufficient.”
“It’s not that.” He reined in his mirth. “Your barter suggestion took me back to my time with Aneksi’s caravan. Rom are nothing if not traders. Of course, I’ll teach you to drive. I’d do that even if you never told me a word about yourself. You needn’t negotiate for everything.”
The stiff lines of her face relaxed, and she trained her gaze on her hands. “I was out of line. I apologize. You are right about gypsies, though. We never miss an opportunity to wangle our way into a better place. It’s in the blood.”
She clasped her hands together. “You rescued me from surviving on my own. It was rude of me to ask for anything else.”
“Rescuing you was my daughter’s doing.” Words butted up against each other in his head. Words lined with guilt that he hadn’t been there for Tairin when she’d needed him, but he pushed them aside. No going back.
“Yes, but the rest of you must have agreed with her. You’d asked about me. There’s little enough to tell. I was born in a caravan. My mother was one of our strongest fortunetellers. She foretold the future with a shocking level of accuracy. She also read minds and could twist the strands of time to do her bidding. She taught me everything I know.”
“I heard you tell Tairin that she’d died,” Jamal said. “I’m sorry. You must miss her.”
“I do. I wasn’t close with anyone else in the caravan. Valentin is…was…different. It altered the composition of who was willing to travel with us.”
“Do you mean he liked men?”
Ilona’s face turned bright red, and Jamal figured he’d been too blunt. “Look,” he blundered on since he’d already put his foot in it. “I met Valentin and the rest of the caravan leaders. I recognize that energy—when men prefer men. Shifters don’t shun same sex pairings like Romani do. We accept them for what they are. Love is a wonderful thing—no matter where it finds us.”