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

by Ann Gimpel

Ilona remembered her crowded barracks in Dachau. “They put you here all by yourself?”

  He drew a labored, noisy breath. “You should leave, and yeah I’m by myself. Made it convenient for the vampire before even he gave up on me.”

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  A flash of her sarcastic little brother flickered across his gaunt features. “Your body isn’t here. How do you plan to move me anywhere?” Twisting, he grabbed a bottle filled with murky, gray water and lifted it to his lips.

  Ilona rocked back on her heels and glanced around the cell. Maybe six feet square, it didn’t contain so much as a pile of straw. A single door was inset in the far wall. No doubt it was bolted from the other side. Two rats squealed in a corner, fighting over something. Another poked a whiskered snout through a hole at floor level, but the others must have convinced it not to join the squabble.

  “How long since you’ve eaten?” Ilona asked.

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. Every once in a while someone drops food through the hole in the door. I used to be fast enough to get it before the rats did, but I gave up.”

  She reached hands toward his shoulders wanting to shake him, but dropped them to her sides. “You cannot give up. We can’t let them win.”

  “Oh, Ilona.” His eyes sheened with moisture. “I love you, sister, but can’t you see? They already have. They know I’m dying. Even the vampire who used to show up to drink from me knows. Haven’t seen him for a while. Go back to your life. One of us needs to survive.”

  He stopped short of saying it wouldn’t be him.

  She swallowed around a thick place in her throat. She hadn’t come this far to fail. The goddess—or some divine presence—had brought her here. Surely it wasn’t only for her to have a deathbed conversation with her brother. A thought slapped her hard.

  “You said a vampire drank from you. They do the same with the SS, but it makes them stronger. I know it’s alien magic and has a putrid feel, but have you tried to leverage it?”

  “Never even occurred to me.” Aron shook his head. “I’m too weak to do anything. The time to do that would have been before bad water gave me the bloody flux.”

  “Look at me.”

  “Stop sounding like my big sister.”

  “It’s what I am. So far, all you’ve told me is what won’t work. We are going to figure out something that will. I can unlock your door with magic, but it won’t do much good if you refuse to help yourself.”

  Aron pressed to a sitting position and raked his grime-crusted hands through long, greasy hair. “Even if you open the door,” he said, “there’s no way out of this place.”

  “Not as a normal human being,” she agreed. “Let’s take stock of your magic. Hunt for it. Experiment with what nascent power the vampire might have left in you. Try to weave it in with your ability.” She softened her tone. “Take as much time as you need. It sounds like no one will bother us.”

  Hope flared painfully in Aron’s eyes, and he straightened his bowed back. “You’d be right about that. I haven’t seen anyone for at least a day. They’re due to bring me more water, but they might decide even that’s too much trouble.”

  Ilona focused on one of the two bickering rats and directed a beam of power. It shrieked its annoyance just before its body went rigid, quivering in death throes. The other rat ignored it, continuing to feed on nasty-looking strips of something unidentifiable.

  Aron stared at the dying rodent, but he didn’t need her to spell things out. He rolled to where he could grab the rat. Sinking his teeth into its neck, he drank from it before he stripped flesh from its bones, chewing and swallowing fast.

  “God but that was disgusting.” He looked up from the grisly pile of bones in his hands out of eyes that might have been to Hell and back.

  “I know. I ate plenty of them after I escaped from Dachau. But you’re already stronger, I feel it. Do you want the other one before you marshal your magic?”

  Aron nodded.

  Ilona waited while her brother ate and sorted through his magic. Time might pass differently in the world she’d left, but surely by now someone had discovered her absence. It didn’t matter. What did was right here in front of her. Aron was stronger. She hadn’t just said that to make him feel better.

  For the first time since she’d entered his cell, she let herself believe they might have a chance.

  Jamal jolted awake with Meara cawing over him. It was still dark, but the horizon had developed a gray, pearlescent glow, so dawn wasn’t far off. Ilona was still cradled in his arms. He held her closer and whispered, “Time to get up, darling.”

  “She’s not here!” Meara said into his mind. Light flared, and she morphed into her human form.

  “What do you mean she’s not here?” Jamal demanded, his brain still fuzzy from being dragged from sleep.

  Meara squatted next to him. “Her body is, but her spirit ranges free. We must figure out where she’s gone.”

  Jamal sent magic auguring into Ilona’s boneless form. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Meara, but he had to see for himself. Sure enough, the jagged bifurcation where her astral self had separated from the rest of her punched him in the guts. He levered his arm from beneath Ilona’s shoulders and tucked blankets tenderly around her.

  “How’d you know?” he demanded as he set his clothing to rights and stuffed his feet into socks and shoes.

  “I felt her leave. How else?” Meara shrugged. “What worries me is she isn’t back yet. If she’s separated from her body for too long—” Her words cut off abruptly, as if she decided she’d said far too much.

  “What happens then? Will she die?”

  Meara nodded. “In a manner of speaking. She’ll join the damned who rove the earth forever, unable to leave this plane for what comes next. The Rom use them as spirit guides.”

  Jamal bolted upright. “Let’s go. Let’s find her.”

  “Not that easy. I’m not Romani. I can’t track her.”

  “Who can?” Jamal’s guts twisted into a burning mass of snakes.

  “Come with me. We’ll raise Stewart. He has far more magic than Michael.”

  “How about Elliott? He’s got the same seer magic as Ilona.”

  “Already thought of him. He’ll meet us in Stewart’s wagon.” Meara took off running, and Jamal paced her.

  “We have to find her,” Jamal’s wolf cried, followed by a long, mournful howl.

  “Did you know she was gone?” Jamal demanded, ready to jump down his bondmate’s throat.

  “Of course not. I’d have alerted you. I was in the other place sharing information about Anubis with the bond animals.” The wolf sounded injured.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “I understand. I’m frantic about her safety too. We waited long for her.”

  Stewart, Michael, and Elliott stood outside Stewart’s wagon wearing grim expressions. Tairin was there too, looking equally worried. Vreis and Cadr arrived on a run at the same time as Jamal. Their dark hair was sleep-tousled and their blue eyes held an apprehensive cast.

  “Do you suppose this is another of those tarnished prophecy things?” Jamal asked.

  “I have no idea,” Stewart said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Meara said.

  “Was she drawn into the dreamer’s corridors involuntarily before?” Elliott demanded.

  “Yes,” Stewart and Michael said almost in unison.

  “You have to say more,” Meara made come along motions with one hand.

  “There’s no time,” Jamal protested.

  “We all have to understand what we face,” Stewart said and focused his next words at Meara. “Romani seers can be drawn into an involuntary trance state using dreams as a vehicle. We call them dreamer’s corridors. ’Tis a place your astral self goes, leaving your body behind. Ilona was led there before. ’Tis where she saw that Anubis wasn’t what he appeared.

  “Last night, she was snagged again. One of the gods or godde
sses has likely determined they can use her considerable power to move their agendas forward. Problem is, dreaming time is over and she’s not back yet.”

  “Which means what?” Jamal cut in.

  “Either she’s wrapped up in a project, or she’s trapped and canna return,” Cadr replied.

  “We must go after her,” Elliott said. “If she’s separated from her body for too long, she won’t be able to find it again.”

  “Brother does that ever sound familiar,” Tairin muttered.

  Jamal eyed his daughter. If she’d managed to shift back to human after a hundred years, maybe things weren’t as bleak for Ilona as everyone seemed to fear.

  “How do we get there?” He looked around the group.

  “I’m not thinking it’s we,” Elliott said. “I can go. I actually have the feel of her blood, so I’m the logical one to follow her. I can likely raise the same spirit guides I used before.”

  “Vreis and I will accompany you,” Cadr said. “We hold seer ability too.”

  “None of you are going without me.” Jamal stomped in front of Elliott and stared at him.

  “Ye’re taking me,” Stewart announced.

  “And me,” Meara said. “I’ve never traveled these paths, and I wish to know more about them.”

  “I—” Elliott choked and started again. “I’m not sure they’re open to anyone but Romani.”

  “Which would leave you out since you’re a shifter now,” Jamal said acidly.

  “Fine. If everyone is going, I’m not staying here,” Tairin said firmly.

  “I’m remaining here,” Michael said. He narrowed his eyes. “There may be a sorting process along the corridors…”

  Elliott turned to Tairin. “Please.” His voice vibrated with entreaty. “Remain with Michael. One of the last times I dabbled with strong magic, I raised a demon. I’m not at all certain I won’t open a gateway right into Hell.”

  “Won’t happen,” Stewart said. “I will guide this casting, but we are too many. Beyond that, odd numbers hold potential. Even numbers may well doom us.”

  “I’ll stay behind,” Tairin said. “I want Ilona back safe. Michael and I will lead the other Romani. We’ll cast supportive magic to hold the gateway Stewart opens. Make it easy for you to return.”

  “Thank you.” Elliott hugged her.

  “I will remain here as well,” Vreis said. “That trims your group to five.”

  “We must be on the far side of the barrier to do this,” Stewart said. “Let’s go.” He took off at a fast clip.

  “Get Nivkh to help you with that gateway,” Meara instructed before racing after Stewart.

  Jamal caught up and followed them past the corral and through the weak place in the barrier. The horses had grazed where they were down to earth and needed to be moved, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

  The five of them formed a rough circle near the base of a cliff. “Have ye ever done this afore?” Stewart asked Elliott.

  “Yes. It wasn’t easy, but the spirit guides make it possible.”

  “That’s because ye had to force the magic. Apparently, it swept Ilona along with it.”

  “Why is that important?” Jamal asked.

  “Because it means her magic will be intact. If she didn’t call a spell, it wouldn’t have drained her ability,” Elliott replied.

  “Ye must lead since ye said ye have blood markers and guides at the ready,” Stewart told Elliott.

  “I command both from when we hunted for her brother the other day.” Elliott locked gazes with Stewart. “How will you guide if I’m leading?”

  “Excellent question, lad. I will open myself. Ye four will latch onto my magic. Once we’re all joined, I’ll summon the spell to break us away from our physical bodies. It willna be comfortable. Once we’re spirit, Elliott will push into the ether with us beside him.”

  “Will my magic work without my body?” Jamal asked.

  “It does for me,” Elliott said. “Or it did when I was Romani.”

  “For me as well,” Cadr chimed in.

  “We willna discover how any of this will play out until we punt the ball skyward. Ready?” Stewart’s gaze darted around the circle.

  Jamal blinked. Meara was back in bird form, and she clacked her beak once, sharply.

  “Should I be a wolf?” he asked.

  “The vulture is my primary form,” Meara replied. “Human is yours. Do not shift.”

  “Enough talk. We begin,” Stewart said. “Empty your minds. Link to my magic. Once we enter the corridors, this will go quickly. We must not make any mistakes, or we risk being trapped there as well.”

  Jamal narrowed his focus to Stewart’s Celtic chant and latched his power to the Romani’s. He knew the language, but this was an archaic form, and he only picked up one word in three. Hot, searing pain began in his feet and raked through him until he felt as if someone had taken a branding iron to his innards.

  He forced himself to breathe through the agony that kept him anchored to his body. Once he stopped fighting the sensation, it dropped away abruptly and he floated in a gallery lined with silvery clouds. The others were ranged near him. He felt their distinctive energies. He wondered if he could talk, but everyone else was silent, and he didn’t want to risk disturbing Elliott’s concentration—or Stewart’s casting.

  He looked inward, peeling back layers until he found his wolf, grateful for its steadfast presence.

  The clouds ruptured as if someone had gutted them. Rather than silver, they ran red. One by one, they dropped away and he fell in an awkward, gut-wrenching arc toward something he couldn’t see.

  No body, he reasoned. Without a body, falling wouldn’t mean he’d end up a pile of broken bones at the bottom of wherever Elliott was leading them. The silver-red around him fragmented into nothingness. For such a violent action, it was absolutely silent, or maybe he needed his body to hear.

  Perhaps this place was incompatible with sound waves.

  Jamal took stock. He was still falling, but not as fast. Before he could deduce what that meant, he drew to an abrupt halt in the muddy dirt of what had to be a prison camp from the look and smell of it. Shoddily constructed buildings rose on either side of him. The stench of death and rot permeated everything, but it didn’t quite mask the reek of vampire.

  He reached for magic to make himself invisible, but stopped himself. No one could see any of them. Uniformed guards marched prisoners so close they walked through where he stood.

  His vision felt odd, and he blinked to bring things into sharper focus. It worked. Elliott was ahead with Stewart and Cadr behind him, both moving quickly. Jamal rushed after them, surprised a walking motion worked absent his body. He sensed his limbs, but knew they were a long way from him. A sharp peck in the middle of his back told him Meara wanted him to hurry.

  “Where are we?” he sent in shielded telepathy.

  “Quiet.” She pecked him again.

  He flinched away from her pointed beak. How could he feel pain absent a body?

  Same way I sense myself moving through space. None of that matters. The critical part is finding Ilona.

  Could he risk a scan with his magic? It was intact. He’d already checked.

  Shadowy figures streamed in front of Elliott. Must be the spirit guides he’d alluded to. The thing Ilona would turn into if they didn’t locate her fast. Jamal clenched the hands he didn’t have into fists. Why had Ilona been drawn to this place? Was it the same camp she’d been dragged to during her last tarnished vision?

  Made sense. Vampires were here. They’d been there too, but maybe they were in every prison camp. Perfect place for them, given their obsession with death. The shadows in front of Elliott flowed into a concrete block building. Elliott disappeared right behind them.

  Jamal followed him and Stewart through the wall. Solid cement, yet he walked through it as if it weren’t even there. On the other side, Ilona knelt next to a skinny young man who looked like her. Must be her brother, which explai
ned why she was here.

  The filthy, stinking man stared at them. “Who are all of you? Never mind that. Get Ilona out of here. Something bad just happened. One minute she was talking with me, exhorting me to draw enough magic so we could both escape, and then she just checked out.”

  “How long ago did that happen?” Stewart demanded.

  “A minute. Maybe two.”

  “Och aye. ’Twas the spirit guides. They recognized she’d overstayed her magic and claimed her.”

  Jamal moved to where Ilona knelt and tried to pull her against him, but his arms went right through her. Because neither of them was really here. “We can talk in here?”

  “So long as no magic is expended, it’s probably safe enough,” Elliott muttered. “Damn it. This is my fault. I’m the one who brought the guides.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We have to hurry. How can we move her out of here?”

  “Blood calls to blood,” Stewart said. “Lad.”

  “Yes. My name is Aron.”

  “Aron. Wrap your arms around your sister and do exactly what I tell you.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m not very strong, sir.”

  “We’ll take care of that part,” Elliott said, his voice harsh.

  Cadr moved behind Aron and propped him up. “Let me help you, laddie.”

  “We’ll have to be quick,” Stewart warned. “Once I summon power, if any vampire is close—and I do sense them—they’ll come running. Magic draws them like nothing else but blood.”

  “Looks like I’m the only one here with blood,” Aron mumbled and knelt in front of Ilona, surrounding her with his arms. Cadr supported him from behind.

  Her eyes were closed and her form slumped. Jamal wanted to wrap magic around her, spirit her to somewhere safe where the rift between body and spirit could heal, but Stewart was running this show. Competing priorities—never mind magic—could trap all of them.

  Celtic flowed from Stewart, the purity of his words a counterpart to the death, rot, and wickedness pounding against them from every quadrant. Elliott moved in front of Ilona and Aron, arms extended, and joined Stewart’s incantation. Cadr added his voice to their chant.

  Sour, discordant energy sped toward them.