by Ann Gimpel
Vampires.
The tableau with Aron and Ilona at its center wavered becoming insubstantial.
“Get them out of here,” Jamal cried. “I’ll deal with the vampire. Do whatever you have to, but make sure Ilona gets to safety.”
“Oh you will, will you, puny shifter?” The cell door clanged open and two vampires charged inside.
“My puny shifter will have help,” the vulture cried. The words were garbled rolling from the bird’s vocal chords, but Jamal didn’t have time to think about that. Meara grew until she was twice her normal size. Surging forward, she buried her beak in one of the vampire’s necks and wrapped long, sharp talons around the thing’s neck and shoulders. It tried to bat her off, to sink elongated fangs pulsing with hunger into her, but she evaded its efforts. Magic boiled from her. Enough to make Jamal squint against the glare.
He dragged the silver stake out of his pocket with magic when his fingers refused to close over the weapon. How he could have it—and his clothes—absent his body made no sense, but he’d sort this whole, bizarre nightmare out later. He let the other vampire charge him, timing his strike to maximize the vampire’s forward motion. When it leapt on him, he was ready and utilized magic to drive the stake into its chest. Ichor that reeked of the charnel pits of the damned rolled over him, but he kept magic focused on the stake, twisting it to make certain the thing would die. He might not have functioning fingers or hands, but magic was a fair substitute.
The vampire writhed, bellowing in death throes that Jamal hoped wouldn’t bring ten more like it running. In the face of Meara’s magic, no one would even notice his, so he threaded strands around the struggling vampire to muffle its cries.
“Dead enough,” Meara said into his mind.
He glanced at her in time to see her extract an eyeball and crunch it down. She’d done that before. Must be a special vulture treat.
“Your body is here?”
“More than yours, but less than usual,” she replied in her usual enigmatic fashion.
“I’m hoping you’ll explain that later. Do you know how to get back?” He could figure it out, but no reason to if Meara had it nailed.
The vulture cawed raucously. “Of course I do. Open your magic to me. And let go of that abomination. I don’t plan to transport its sorry carcass anywhere.”
Jamal extracted his stake and directed a jot of magic to drop it back into his pocket. As handy has it had become, he’d never let it out of his sight again. Meara’s power pounded against him, and he opened a channel for her to link to his magic. Before he could ask her anything else, the cinderblock walls fell away and he rolled onto the dirt in front of Stewart’s wagon.
Jamal lurched upright. People—shifters and Romani—were packed into the small space all talking excitedly. Where was Ilona? Had Elliott and Stewart and Cadr gotten her back safely? How about her brother? He’d looked terribly ill. Jamal pushed power outward, seeking the woman he loved, but he couldn’t find her. He wanted to ask the people gathered around, but wasn’t certain how much of their journey he could disclose without invoking Stewart’s or Meara’s ire.
The air around Meara shimmered, flaring blue-white as she shifted. “Nice piece of work we did.” She slapped him on the back.
“Never mind that. Where’s Ilona?”
Meara narrowed her eyes and multi-hued light flowed around her. “Follow me.”
Maybe it was her undeniable power, but the crowd parted before her and she led him to a protected spot between Michael and Stewart’s wagons. Two Romani women worked over Aron, cleaning his wounds and pouring tea down him alternating with what smelled like boiled grains.
Ilona lay wrapped in the same blankets he’d tucked her into. Stewart, Elliott, Cadr, Vreis, and Tairin worked over her, their magic thick.
Jamal dropped to Ilona’s side, and pulled her into his arms. “What’s wrong?” he cried. “She’s here, but I can’t sense her.”
“Lay her down,” Meara said. “They carried her body here from where you left her and pieced what they could back together, but much of her still walks the dreamer’s corridors.”
“Let him hold onto her,” Stewart said. “It may well make the difference and draw her back to this world.”
Jamal clutched her, stroking hair back from her forehead and crooning in Coptic mixed with German. He looked at the others over her head and wished he hadn’t. None of them looked hopeful.
“How long before we know?” he asked.
“I doona have an answer for ye, lad, but I’ve never known one like this to return to the living.” The lines marking Stewart’s forehead deepened.
“This one will.” Aron staggered into the clearing wrapped in a clean blanket. “I will not let my sister sacrifice herself for me.”
“You’re too ill.” Tairin ran to him. “Go back to the women.”
“They can cure me once we have Ilona back.” He swayed on his feet, but his eyes burned with determination.
Jamal beckoned him forward. “I’d be honored to share magic with you. Help me find the woman we both love.”
Aron’s eyes widened as he staggered toward Jamal. “B-but you’re a shifter.”
“And you’re Romani. Still willing to help me?”
The corners of Aron’s mouth lifted in a grim smile. “You betcha. This isn’t any odder than anything else today.”
Chapter 17
Ilona drifted in black nothingness. She’d been kneeling next to Aron. He was much stronger after consuming the two rats she’d killed for him. And he was making progress sorting through the magic at his disposal. The vampires hadn’t left much of their essence when they fed from him. Just enough to keep him alive, but their magic smoothed the way for his own ability to shine through. She’d never realized he inherited some of their mother’s seer magic, but he’d explained he didn’t want Valentin to exploit him.
She gritted her teeth against each other. Never mind she didn’t have a body anymore. Aron had told her how relentlessly Valentin pursued him, his attentions escalating after their mother died. It had grown so bad, Aron took to sleeping in unexpected locations. Places Valentin couldn’t find him. Because the caravan leader was basically lazy, he’d never expended the energy to locate Aron’s various hiding places.
She rolled from side to side, restless in the ever-present dark. Powerful magic had dragged her from Aron’s side, and that was the last she remembered. When she came to herself, she was floating in this void.
A tremor ran through her. She had to get back. Aron needed her. Jamal would be worried. So would Stewart and Elliott and Tairin and all the rest of them. Maybe they’d take some horrible risk to locate her. She could never allow that to happen.
No. She had to do something.
Ilona curved her body into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees. At least her arms didn’t cut through her knees, but what did that mean? If she was back in her body, nothing felt right.
Her mind bounced from topic to topic. Where was Aron? What happened to him? Was he able to escape the prison camp on his own?
Ha. Not very fucking likely.
What had pulled her from his side? It hadn’t been vampires. She recognized their peculiar brand of power.
Ilona tried calling. Her voice bounced back at her, echoing crazily, but at least she could still talk.
My magic. How could I forget about it?
Feeling stupid and remiss, she reached for the place her power dwelt, relieved beyond words to find it intact.
“All right.” She spoke out loud to steady her racing pulse. “Getting out of here should be simple enough.”
Ilona tapped the rich vein of power, giving the command that should reunite her with her sleeping form, wrapped in Jamal’s blankets.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, upping the ante on her magic. Maybe she was trapped behind some powerful blockade, not unlike the one back at the gypsy and shifter encampment.
Still nothing.
She s
tretched out her limbs, trying to grab hold of something, anything. Maybe the physical feel of something beyond her body would help anchor her.
I have to try harder. Maybe I got the wrong spell…
Time blitzed past. She should have been exhausted, breathing hard, but she couldn’t seem to push herself out of the inertia dragging at her. Strands of something wet and sticky kept trying to trap her, but she tore away each filament that wrapped around her.
Those scared her worse than anything else did. Who was trying to wind her into a giant spider’s web?
“Relax.” A voice called from the blackness.
Panic twisted her guts into a knot. “Who are you?” she shouted.
“Doesn’t matter,” another deeper voice replied. “Let yourself go. Float. Still your mind.”
“Soon you won’t remember a thing.” The first voice was back.
“Won’t remember what? Where am I?” She felt anxious. Chest tight, throat constricted, and her voice sounded as if she were sleepwalking.
“Why the life you left,” voice number two said. “Let it happen. It will anyway, and it’s much more pleasant if you don’t fight it.”
“I don’t want to forget my life.” She tried to shout, but her voice came out a squeak.
“You will eventually. We’re trying to help. We’ll come back later. Maybe by then, you’ll have come to accept things.”
“Never.” She stuffed a hand into her mouth and bit on a knuckle, enjoying the pain. At least it meant she could still feel something.
Amid clucking, cooing, and other soothing noises, the voices retreated.
Ilona pulled herself through the blackness with a swimmer’s stroke, hunting for the people who’d spoken to her. She’d find them and drum the truth out of them no matter what it took. She had plenty of magic to threaten them, maybe even kill them if she didn’t like their answers.
After a while, she quit swimming. She wasn’t tired, but she’d given up. She’d never find them; they were gone. Besides, it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Where she was wasn’t so bad…
“No!” she screamed, and this time her voice shattered around her.
“I can’t grow complacent. Once I give up, I’m done for.”
Determination kindled, and she reached for her magic again. It was still there. She visualized the encampment and willed herself to go there. And then she did it again. And again. And again.
Different spells.
Different magical mixes.
Nothing created so much as a flicker in the endless, undulating darkness.
Tears gathered, dampening her cheeks before they dropped into the void that surrounded her. Jamal. She’d finally found a man to love. Aron. She’d almost freed him.
Finally and almost. Not good enough.
I cannot give up. I will not give up.
Fire, heat, pain bloomed around one shoulder. She shrieked, twisted, batted at whatever had hurt her, but the pain dug deep, holding her in its clutches. Why was she under attack? Had the voices grown tired of tolerating her resistance?
She shrieked, followed by another. The pain moved. This time, her other shoulder caught fire. Why couldn’t she feel her attacker with her hands? She reached in every direction, but her efforts cut through empty air.
Shit, aw shit. I’m losing my mind.
Desperation rocked Jamal. He’d done everything he could think of, employed every magic both with Aron and on his own. Ilona’s brother was weak, but to his credit, he’d kindled every last iota of magic at his disposal, working to draw his sister back from the dreamer’s corridors.
Jamal locked gazes with Meara. “Please. I have to. No more choices.”
Rabid determination blazed from the vulture shifter. “You have my permission. Even if it locks one of my bond animals in hell with her.”
That was the risk. Jamal understood full well. He’d bite Ilona, infuse shifter essence into her, but then it was up to her. She’d have to shift. Something that was excruciatingly difficult here on earth might be impossible in some border world at the edges of infinity. If she failed to shift, the wolf who volunteered to bond with her would be lost as well.
He’d asked his wolf to troll for possibilities and hadn’t bothered it since. The request was almost beyond the edge of reason, and he wouldn’t blame any bond animal for refusing what might end up a death sentence.
“I found someone,” the wolf said.
“Does it fully understand all the—”
“Yes. Why do you think I was gone so long? Do it now before there’s no chance of success at all.”
Jamal winced. The wolf had lobbied—and lobbied hard—to do this first, not at the tail end of many failed attempts to draw Ilona back. He let the shift magic take him, heedless of his clothes ripping.
Bending his head, Jamal bit one of Ilona’s shoulders, letting the bond animal’s essence flow through him. “Thank you.”
“I shall do my best,” the wolf assured him.
“I’m sure you will.” Jamal transferred his powerful jaws to Ilona’s other shoulder and completed the transformation ritual.
Elliott knelt next to Ilona, chanting over her. He’d barely managed to shift to escape vampire poison, and he’d been here. On Earth. Not imprisoned goddess only knew where.
“Come on, Ilona,” Elliott urged in Coptic. “You can do this. Try. Reach for your wolf. Let it out.”
Jamal let go of his hold on Ilona’s shoulder. Her body hadn’t flinched beneath his assault. What were the odds she could even hear Elliott?
I have to believe she’ll find her way.
“Yes, you do,” Meara said from behind him. “Find your primary form, and we shall help her from here with magic as best we can.”
Jamal morphed back into his human body and knelt over Ilona, holding her close. “Shift, darling. Let the wolf in you loose. It will find its way back to me and free you from purgatory.”
Word of Ilona’s plight had spread through the camp like wildfire. Shifters and Rom alike raised their voices in prayers and spells all aimed at drawing Ilona back to them. Magic eddied and pulsed around Jamal.
If times hadn’t been so desperate, everyone working toward a common goal, heedless of who was Rom and who was a shifter, would have warmed him. It would have pleased Ilona too.
Jamal tried again, clutching Ilona’s boneless form close. “Let the wolf out. Shift. Trust the magic. It will not fail you.”
Ilona grappled with the thing she couldn’t see. Her shoulders were on fire and she hurt so much, she felt nauseous. The fiery sensation had moved beyond her shoulders, and her body felt like it wanted to rip itself in half and spill her insides all over the inky black void.
“Let me out,” a voice cried.
At first she thought it was the voices from before. The ones that had suggested she’d be trapped here forever.
“Shift!” Command rang heavy in the word. “I can save you, but you must believe in me.”
“But I’m not a shifter,” she protested, wondering what kind of bizarre parallel universe she’d fallen into.
“You are now—if you let it happen. I told Jamal I’d do my damnedest to save you. Do not let him and his wolf down.”
“Jamal? I— I don’t understand. He’s not here.” Pain hazed her brain, making it hard to breathe, let alone think.
“Jamal isn’t here,” the voice agreed, “but I am. I’m your bond animal. We don’t know one another, and if you don’t pull your head out of your ass and shift, we never will. If you don’t have it in you to do this for you, do it for me. I’ll be stuck here right along with you if you don’t shift. I took a chance on you, Ilona Lovas. I did it because a good man loves you and thinks you’re worth my sacrifice. Don’t prove him wrong.”
Her heart thudded hard against her chest. Was that what the pain in her shoulders had been? A wolf biting her? Even if it were, that didn’t explain the ripping, tearing agony pummeling her now. She closed her teeth over her lower lip until she tasted blood.
Jamal’s words crashed over her.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer you an opportunity to become a shifter—not without breaking one of our cardinal laws.”
“Unless your life is in danger,” the voice in her head added. “This qualifies. Damn it, at least try to do this while the energy is hot. The first shift is always hard. The longer you wait, the less possible it will become.”
“You can hear my thoughts?” she ground out from between her gritted teeth.
“Of course. Reach for me. Let me out.”
She’d curled into a tight ball to combat the excruciating sensations rolling through her. Maybe it wasn’t possible to shift like that.
What am I thinking? Maybe this is some kind of trap. If I relax, the voices will swoop in and seal me away forever.
“Jamal’s wolf told me you wanted to be a shifter. Did you lie to it and Jamal? If you did, and we’re locked in this world between the worlds for all eternity, I will make what’s left of your life a living hell. Do not test me, human. Shift. Do it now!”
She ground her fists into her eyes, trying to force form out of the blackness. It didn’t work. Was Jamal’s wolf nasty to him? How about Meara’s vulture? She snorted back a grim laugh. Meara was plenty unpleasant on her own.
No, she calls it like she sees it. Doesn’t waste time sugarcoating anything.
The thing inside her was waiting. She felt its impatience and its growing desperation. The black void wasn’t going anywhere. Apparently, neither was she. She’d tried every magical combination and permutation in her arsenal, but nothing had created the slightest flicker in the endless black.
“Tell me what to do.”
A long, undulating howl ripped through her. “Finally. Open your magical center as wide as you can and reach for me. I’ll use it as a conduit. Once it’s open, keep it that way. This will hurt. A lot. The first time is always the worst. It will take all your magic to hold a gateway for me to use—and all mine to make it through. If you get cold feet, sabotage our efforts, we won’t have enough strength for another go.”
“Got it.” Ilona unclenched her fists and spread her hands in front of her to maximize her casting. “Get ready. I’m opening myself now.”