Tarnished Prophecy: Shifter Paranormal Romance (Soul Dance Book 3)

by Ann Gimpel

  It was his turn to feel embarrassed. He’d barely met the woman in his passenger seat. Probably not the best time to launch into a dissertation on sexual mores.

  “So you worked telling fortunes?” he asked to move the conversation to more neutral ground.

  Ilona nodded. “Yes. And I cast Tarot spreads and astrological charts. I also cooked and did some sewing.”

  Jamal tightened his hands on the wheel. “Did you leave a husband and children back in the caravan?” Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but he had to know if this woman was spoken for.

  She shook her head. “No. I never married.”

  “Why not?”

  “Lots of reasons. Mother said it wasn’t wise, that it would dilute our power. And I never met anyone I felt strongly enough about to go against her will.”

  “Look.” Jamal motioned through the windscreen at the collection of horses and wagons milling about beneath a cliff face. “We’re almost there.”

  “I see that. Even though it’s not my caravan, it still feels like coming home.”

  “Did you believe what your mother said about marriage weakening your power?”

  She drew her brows into a thoughtful line. “Not really. I always suspected my father abandoned her and broke her heart. She never wanted to deal with that kind of heartache again, so she wove a fabrication about needing to be celibate to keep her power at its peak.”

  Jamal thought about it. “I’m surprised no one else in the caravan spilled the beans about who your father was. Surely someone would’ve known, and besides being traders, the Rom are an inveterate bunch of gossips.”

  A giggle blew past her lips, followed by a full-throated laugh. “You do have our number,” she said once she was done laughing. “But, no. No one ever ponied up that piece of information.”

  “Did you ask?” he persisted.

  “Not much. It made Mother very angry, and it was just her and me and my brother Aron.” Ilona was still snickering. “Guess Mom had a lapse from her self-imposed celibacy at least long enough to conceive my little brother.”

  “Did he know who his father was?”

  “Oh yeah. One of Valentin’s uncles with a penchant for gambling. He ended up with a bullet in his head one morning when Aron wasn’t quite ten. He and Mother didn’t share a wagon, and he never paid much attention to Aron, so none of us missed him much.”

  “I’d offer condolences for your loss—”

  “Eh, don’t waste your breath.” Ilona rolled her eyes. “Mom entered her marriage is bad for my magic phase again right after Aron was born. He was eleven years younger than me.” She closed her teeth over her lower lip. “The Nazis got him too, but he ran before they could drag him into Dachau. I hope he made it out of the city.”

  Jamal wanted to reach across the car and place a hand over hers, but he held himself back. She might take it wrong, and he had no right to touch her. Instead he settled for saying, “I hope he made it out of Dachau too. Did you try reaching him with magic?”

  “No. By the time I escaped the city, my magic was almost drained. And I know less than nothing about vampires. I was afraid if I did anything magical near Dachau, I might draw their attention. If I’d been apprehended and taken back to the work camp, the guards would have flogged me and chained me, and I’d still be there.”

  Jamal’s heart ached for her. She had good reasons for not seeking her brother, but guilt—and responsibility—dogged her just the same. He’d lived with both long enough to recognize them in others. He wanted to say something comforting, but he didn’t want to lie to her, either. Both of them knew Aron’s chances of escape hadn’t been very good.

  The ruts that passed for a road finally ended in a large clearing, and Jamal drew the car off to one side. Tairin and Elliott’s wagon clopped past, heading for where the other wagons were parked.

  “Ready to get out and meet everyone?” Jamal asked.

  “Yeah. It will take me a while to keep everybody straight. Just look at all those wagons. Lots of Rom here.”

  Her words caught him up short. Yes, lots of Rom were here, which meant it made sense for Tairin or Elliott to take Ilona around to introduce her. He may have helped with the vampire nest, but he was still a shifter.

  Meara solved the problem for him by striding to his car. She waited until they got out, and then focused her shrewd gaze on Ilona. “How are you doing?”

  “Better. Thank you again.”

  Tairin loped to where they stood with Elliott right behind her. “We’ve come to take you around to the wagons and introduce you,” she announced.

  “I thought you were going to do that,” Ilona said to Jamal, but then she shook her head. “It’s fine. Really. I can make my way to the caravan leaders’ wagons and introduce myself. It’s not a problem. You’ve all been more than kind to me, and—”

  “I need Jamal for something else,” Meara cut in. “We must alert others like us to stand ready. In a perfect world, I’d use Tairin too, but her place is here for now.”

  “What about me?” Elliott asked. “I’m a shifter now.”

  Meara rolled her eyes. “A very new one. So new, your credibility with other shifters will be close to nil.”

  Elliott opened his mouth, but Jamal waved him to silence. “Your wolf just lodged a protest. I heard it growling in my mind. Tell it to stand down. We’ll be in the thick of battle soon enough. Plenty of time to prove your mettle.”

  Tairin wrapped a protective arm around Elliot and trained her dark gaze on Meara. “Have you seen something in your glass?”

  “I have, indeed. Once I return, Elliott and I will spend time together. I’m interested if we produce the same future reading.”

  Discomfort and confusion poured from Ilona, far too strong to ignore. Jamal focused on her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can scry the future too.” She straightened her spine. “I’d like to help.”

  “You’re a Romani seer?” Elliott sounded surprised. “I thought I was the only one, at least for the caravans here in Germany.”

  Ilona’s nostrils flared. “Valentin never wanted anyone to know. He always thought Mother’s magic—and mine—were unnatural. He didn’t want it to get around that our visions were real. I figured he thought if the gadjo found out, they’d be too frightened to plunk down coin for Tarot and fortunes.”

  Jamal sucked in an annoyed breath. No one believed in magic anymore. They might duck into a fortuneteller’s wagon, but it was all for sport. For fun. Nothing was serious.

  “I’m ready.” Meara jabbed Jamal’s chest with an index finger.

  “Shifted or not?”

  “We make better time in our animal forms.”

  “How far are we going?” Jamal asked. He wanted to remain with Ilona, see she was settled and comfortable, but Meara’s commands overshadowed his personal needs.

  She drew her silver brows together. “We will split up. We can cover twice the ground that way. Because I fly faster than you can run, I’ll return to our settlement where Tairin found us.”

  “Where do you want me to go? And what message am I delivering?” Jamal kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, tossing them into the car. No reason to ruin a perfectly good set of clothes ripping them to shreds when he shifted. He slipped off his jacket and felt Ilona’s gaze on him. She was subtle about it, but he knew the feel of her energy.

  Part of him was pleased by her attention, but another part felt embarrassed and he stopped after slinging his coat into the front seat.

  Meara knelt and drew a circle in the dirt. She marked two Xs within it. “Here is where we are.” She pointed at one of them. “And here’s Munich.” She pointed at the other and drew a long line. “This is the main roadway between Munich and Dachau. I want you to locate all our kinfolk in this area. Be sure to check the small farms on both sides of the main byway.”

  “When I find them, what shall I tell them? Surely by now everyone knows vampires are a problem.”

  “I’m sure they d
o. We have a well-established telepathic network,” Meara concurred. “Make certain they know about mingled power being stronger. Tell them I command them to fight the Reich and the vampire threat.” She pressed her lips together. “We must meet to plan our next steps, but I’m not certain where would be safest.”

  “The tunnels beneath that old castle where I’d set up shop might work,” Elliott said.

  “Not big enough,” Meara replied. “If my estimate is close, there will be somewhere around a hundred fifty shifters, perhaps a few more.”

  A long, low whistle escaped Ilona. “That many. May I ask something?”

  “Be quick about it,” Meara snapped. “Jamal and I must be gone soon.”

  “If you’re planning to tackle the Nazis with magic, are there other magic wielders who might join with us?” Ilona asked.

  “Yes to other people who carry magic,” Elliot answered.

  “But Druids don’t command much power at all,” Meara protested. “No one’s seen either dark or light Fae for hundreds of years.”

  “We could ask Stewart about them,” Tairin said. “If anyone would know, he would with his Celtic roots.”

  “He might know about the other fairy folk too,” Elliott said, sounding thoughtful.

  Meara made a chopping motion with one hand. “I like the idea of a magical army, but let’s start with shifters and Romani. Historically, none of us have played well together. I’m reluctant to mix too many of us, none of whom trust one another, too quickly.”

  “Probably wise,” Ilona said. “I don’t know enough to be making suggestions, anyway.”

  “Of course you do,” Tairin said. “We need ideas. So don’t be shy about voicing them.”

  “Meanwhile”—power crackled around Meara—“absent a better location, I will instruct shifters to meet here two nights hence. The moon will be full then, and Arianrhod may well lend us her power.”

  Jamal swallowed surprise. When had Meara switched from Egyptian deities to Celtic? “What about Khonsu?” he asked, invoking the ancient Egyptian god of the moon.

  Meara flashed him a rare smile. “Feel free to call on him too. The more support we have from all quarters, the better. Now get moving. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  The energy sparking around Meara brightened, and her vulture flew out of its center, winging its way to the west.

  “Come on.” Tairin let go of Elliott and linked a hand beneath Ilona’s elbow. “I’m surprised no one came out to greet us, but everyone is likely busy getting settled.”

  “Thanks again for everything.” Ilona smiled at Jamal. “You’ve been kind to me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He waited while she walked toward the wagons with Elliott and Tairin before stripping off the rest of his clothes and summoning shift magic.

  “Finally,” the wolf muttered. “I thought you were going to stand there talking until tomorrow’s sunrise.” After a quick stretch where it shook out its paws and arched its back, the wolf took off running. “Where do we go first?”

  “We’re closer to Munich than Dachau, so let’s make our way back to the main road, cross it, and finish traversing the last distance to town in the woods. From there, we can work our way back.”

  The wolf didn’t reply, just ran in the indicated direction.

  Jamal settled into the wolf’s consciousness, enjoying the freedom of claws digging into rocky dirt for purchase and the wind from the dying day ruffling his fur. His wolf form simplified everything. So much easier than being human.

  Hours passed. Hours during which they visited many shifters from hawks to bears to mountain lions to foxes. Other wolves as well. Most had heard about the vampire threat, but not everyone. Jamal shifted to converse with all but the wolves.

  Dawn found them on the outskirts of Dachau, and Jamal lifted his muzzle, scenting the air.

  “It’s Ilona,” the wolf said, mirroring Jamal’s conclusion. “She must have come this way when she escaped the prison camp.”

  Before Jamal could argue himself out of it, he said, “Let’s follow her trail. I’d like to know where she went.”

  He girded himself for pushback from the wolf, but it never materialized. They turned hard right and headed up a steep, muddy hillside choked with downed branches and forest debris. With its unerring ability to track, the wolf came to a stop in a small clearing. Ilona’s scent was far stronger here than it should be.

  Her prison clothes. She must have left them here. Before he could instruct the wolf to hunt for them, it trotted farther uphill to a pile of deadfall and began scratching. Sure enough, a striped prison suit had been stuffed in a crevice. So far, no one else had been here. No people, but more importantly, no vampires. They were exceptional trackers, as skilled as any shifter.

  “We can’t leave this here,” he told the wolf.

  “I know, but we can’t make it invisible so we can travel with it, either. It’s getting brighter with the coming day, and we’re miles from the caravans.”

  Jamal sent power spiraling outward searching for nearby shifter dens. Hidden within cliffs, they deflected discovery by a complex system of magic which kept them concealed from all but other shifters.

  “I already thought of that,” the wolf informed him. “Nearest shelter is on the other side of Dachau.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  “Yes?” the wolf’s ears pricked forward, and Jamal smiled.

  “We drag the prison suit uphill—”

  “Brilliant! And lay a false track.” The wolf tossed its muzzle back, but stopped shy of howling.

  “Hang on. You’ll like this even better,” Jamal went on. “It will mean we don’t return to the caravans until midday, but we drag the suit well away from here in a direction to fool anyone who might pursue Ilona. Once we’re at least a mile—maybe two—from this spot, we hunt down a deer or a coyote or something large. Then we spread its blood all over the suit so whoever is tracking her will believe something killed her.”

  “And dragged the corpse off and ate it! Perfect.” The wolf bent and tugged the rest of the filthy, stinking heap of cloth out of its hiding spot. Getting a firm hold on it with its teeth, the wolf let the rest of the garment hang between its front legs and bounded uphill.

  Jamal wondered why Ilona hadn’t taken greater care with something that could lead the enemy right to her. Maybe she had no idea about vampire skills. Beyond that, she’d been exhausted, told him her magic was running on fumes. A surge of protectiveness rushed through him.

  He tried to temper it with caution. His last attempt at loving had exploded, the shrapnel from the detonation injuring everyone. Ilona was a gypsy, just as Aneksi had been, and he was still a shifter. It didn’t take a Romani fortuneteller to predict treacherous waters from that combination.

  Tairin had a foot in both camps, making her relationship with Elliott at least possible. Jamal didn’t.

  His earlier elation faded, as did the scene he’d imagined where he drew Ilona aside and told her what he’d done to keep her safe. The wolf was privy to all his thoughts. That it was keeping quiet about Ilona spoke volumes. It remembered the disaster with Aneksi, although so far it hadn’t reminded him.

  As if I need reminding.

  Jamal drew a curtain over his emotions. He’d shelved them for so long, it wasn’t hard. After being without family for years, he had his daughter back and a son-in-law to be. It was more than he’d ever expected, and it would have to be enough.

  Now if he could just get himself to believe that.

  The wolf skidded to a stop. “Far enough?”

  Jamal glanced at rocky, precipitous landscape rich with the scents of game. “Far enough,” he agreed, more than ready to lose himself in bloodlust and hunting.

  Chapter 5

  Ilona tossed and turned in the rough, woolen blanket Tairin had let her borrow. She’d joined two other Rom women in their wagon, both of whom were fast asleep and snoring. Tairin and Elliott had offered to let her sleep in
their wagon, but they were newly mated, and she hadn’t wanted to put a damper on their lovemaking.

  It felt right to be back in a caravan. Ilona hadn’t realized what a comfort zone it was for her until it was gone. She’d been formally introduced to Michael and Stewart, men she’d seen before when they’d visited Valentin’s caravan. Both leaders had welcomed her and encouraged her to make herself at home. Even though the mountainous terrain appeared deserted, no one wanted to take a chance with fires, so they’d cooked the evening meal over kerosene burners.

  Her first taste of hot food almost made her cry. The rations at Dachau had been one step up from inedible. While an improvement over prison fare, the raw rodents and greens she’d been living on since her escape had filled her stomach but not her soul.

  She stammered through a few teary thank yous, but everyone just hugged her and told her she had a home with them for as long as she wanted. Romani were like that—to other Rom. She still didn’t quite understand how they’d accepted shifters into their midst, but hadn’t wanted to pry the lid off that can of worms for fear of loosing a storm.

  Tairin and Elliott had sat on either side of her during dinner. They took such joy in one another Ilona was happy for them. She knew enough about Tairin’s story to be furious at the Rom elders who’d ordered her mother into flames for mating outside the blood. Elliott carried his own sad tale. She sensed it beneath his calm exterior.

  He hadn’t been kidding when he said he wasn’t certain exactly what he was now. She felt the Rom in him, but also his wolf bondmate. Still, he had a different emanation than Tairin, who’d been born with both bloodlines.

  Trina, one of the women whose wagon she shared, turned over and sat up. Older, heavyset, with long, gray hair that hung in two plaits down her nightdress, she focused her sleepy, blue eyes on Ilona.