‘Because.’ He almost smiled. ‘You’re a guardian.’ The boy studied me a moment more, then pointed to the door. ‘Go through the kitchen. There’s a screen door that goes out to our back yard.’
‘The … street level?’
‘Yeah.’
I got to my feet again, steadier this time. The food had already worked its way into my system, giving me strength. The arrow wound stung fiercely. I opened my mouth to ask for the boy’s help getting the arrow out, but I suddenly changed my mind. He’d done enough, and I couldn’t waste anymore time. I pulled the hood over my head.
The boy opened the door. ‘It’s clear.’
‘Thank you.’ I stepped past him into a small kitchen with dark cabinets. The only light came from a bulb above the sink and the glow of a streetlamp through the window. I put my hand on the screen door, then stopped and turned around. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Ruslo Marks,’ he said. This time, he smiled. ‘Donani’s my dad.’
22. Sebastian
I huddled in the alley, between two garbage bins.
A scrawny calico cat with a chewed-up ear hissed at me from his perch on the fence, yellow eyes flashing. I curled my lip and hissed back. The cat screeched and bee-lined it underneath an old Volkswagen Beetle, probably going for reinforcements.
The fading stars, peeking through the oak tree branches, told me it was early morning, maybe just an hour or two before dawn. I couldn’t stay here until daylight, when some unsuspecting person came out to dump their trash and had a heart attack when they saw me. But where to go?
I was out of the Court of Shadows, but totally lost. I snarled irritably. I had no idea where Hugo was staying, and even if I did, I wasn’t familiar with the city, and I definitely couldn’t take a cab. I clutched my shoulder as a spike of pain radiated through my arm.
And there was the arrow to deal with.
I leaned sideways against the cold metal, weighing my options. Josephine’s face flittered across my mind. Had I gotten a glimpse of something that had actually happened? Was she okay? A prickling sensation buzzed across the back of my neck and settled at the base of my skull.
Sebastian … it’s Josephine.
The buzzing increased to a steady hum, vibrated in my head in the same way it did when I talked to Ezzie – but it was different, more intense. It warped into Josephine’s voice, and I heard her speak as clearly as if she stood beside me.
Sebastian, if you can hear me, please listen. I’m here, and I’m going to get you out of there. Just hold on, okay? Hold on for me.
The current immediately stopped, like a plug yanked from a socket. But Josephine’s presence lingered, even if it was just in my mind. I squeezed my eyes shut and mustered a reply.
Josephine, I’m here.
I waited, but the buzzing didn’t return. Was it telepathy or something else entirely? I tried again, my head pounding with the effort, but nothing happened, and my reply went unanswered. Still, it had been more than enough. I knew what I had to do next.
I swallowed hard and pressed the heel of my right hand against the broken arrow tip. If I couldn’t get it out by pulling forward, then there was only one other direction it could go. I sucked in air, held my breath, and pushed. White-hot fire detonated inside me. I convulsed as the arrow thrust outward from my wing. I stretched my arms behind me, but I couldn’t reach it.
I inhaled through my mouth, waiting for the pain to ease. I got up and tugged the hood lower over my face. The hunger in my stomach pounded on my torso with two fists. I was hurt, and I needed food even more – that much I realized. Maybe it helped my gargoyle body heal faster. I licked my lips as saliva built rapidly inside my mouth.
I switched to breathing out of my nose again, instantly catching every scent of thrown-out food in both garbage bins – soured, old, and pungently rotten. My stomach reacted to the smell of fast-food beef nachos, and I wrapped my arms stubbornly around my body.
‘I don’t think so.’
I moved quickly away from the trash while I still had control of myself. I exited the alley and emerged between two cars, parallel parked on the street. In both directions of the residential areas, I was met with dark windows and empty sidewalks.
I glanced back at the house. Either Ruslo had gone to bed or he’d returned to the Court of Shadows. Either way, I hoped his father stayed ignorant of what his son had done. Helping a shadow creature probably wasn’t on the list of Marksmen do’s and don’ts. I wondered if there were other entrances to the Gypsy’s underground haven. It made sense. You couldn’t have the entire population of Outcasts coming and going through one door.
I made my way along the sidewalk, edging away from streetlights or oncoming headlights from the occasional car. As soon as I turned the corner, I stumbled on exactly what I was looking for.
A restaurant.
The small diner took up very little real estate, with only a few narrow windows lining the street, decorated on the inside with red-and-white checkered curtains. Keeping to the heavy shadows, I inspected the restaurant all the way around until I came to the back door, the one used for deliveries.
As I approached the door, I noticed a small dandelion painted in the upper right corner. The scent of Gypsy permeated the air, but it was faint and hours old. A Roma establishment. If I got caught, I certainly liked my chances better here than anywhere else.
At least they’d know what I was.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I said to the door.
Then I rammed it with my good shoulder. The frame splinted and gave way, and the door creaked open with no resistance. I scanned the room with my night-vision, searching for any signs of an alarm system. I didn’t see anything, though it wouldn’t have stopped me anyway. Hunger-need had taken over.
I shuffled between the metal counters, squeezing my winged body around shelves of pots and pans. A large boiler toppled under a sideway graze of my wing, hitting the counter and then clanging loudly against the floor. I cringed and froze, gargoyle ears prickling for any sound.
Satisfied that no one was in the restaurant, I continued my search until I located what I was looking for: the diner’s industrial-sized refrigerator. I pried open the door. Drool trickled down my chin, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. The smell of fresh meatballs, prepped and ready for the next day, hit me right between the eyes. I grabbed a rectangular pan and ripped off the tin foil.
Dozens of meatballs, in all their raw, seasoned glory. I set it on the counter and dug in with both hands, eating so fast I knew I’d probably get sick. But I didn’t care. Raw meat or not, it was the best thing I’d tasted in forever. I plunged my head under the gigantic faucet, soaking my head, my hair, and gulping down water like a dog at a fire hydrant.
I rummaged through drawers. I found soap and stacks of thick dishtowels. I stripped off the cloak, and using my new supplies, I took a messy, standing shower – the first real cleaning I’d had in three days. I scrubbed my hair and my face, soaped up my body and wings, and took special attention with my wounds. I dried off and dumped the towels on the soaked floor.
‘Sorry again,’ I said to the empty space.
I yanked several paper towels from a nearby roll and dabbed my wounded shoulder, so I could see it better. The splintered shaft glittered inside the bloody hole in my shoulder. I wrenched my neck around and lowered my wing as much as I could. The black feathers were wedged firmly into the outside of the leathery membrane, keeping it trapped against my back.
I curled my claws around the wooden shaft and broke off the feathered section. My wing yanked free, and almost instantaneously, it ceased hurting. The ten inches of arrow still buried in my shoulder was another matter, but it was a small victory, at least. I expanded my wing to its full length, careful not to destroy anymore cookware, and then retracted it tight against my back. I ripped the rest of the paper towel into thin strips and packed it into the wound to staunch the bleeding. I regretted not asking Ruslo for help.
Feeling d
ecently clean and completely full, I refastened the cloak around my body and meandered into the dining area. The checkered linoleum floor made me think of the Gypsy Ink, and a bout of homesickness gripped me. James’ bad cooking on late Saturday mornings, shop talk with the guys, even Hugo’s constant drilling questions.
I hopped up on the counter, wincing slightly. My bulky wings spilled over the back. The silence of the empty room was peaceful, and the smells wafting around me were pleasant and comforting. So much better than the dirty cell in the dungeon of the Court of Shadows. I shifted uneasily. Hugo was here for the trial, obviously, but he had no way of knowing what had just gone down.
The urge to find my brother stirred inside me, only usurped by the insistent need to get to Josephine. Maybe they were in the same place. The idea tightened into a more realistic theory. She’d gone to Hugo after Augustine took me away and told him everything. But she hadn’t stopped there. My heat warmed inside my chest. Josephine hadn’t given up on me at all. She’d come to Savannah to find me.
I hugged my right arm to my chest as my thoughts drifted.
‘Maybe we should think about returning to the Fairgrounds.’
Josephine kept her eyes glued to the scenery beyond us, the acres of forest and fields spanning far below our perch on Copper Mountain. She placed her hands on the guardrail separating the trail from the rocky edge.
‘Not yet, Sebastian, please. I’m just not ready to return to real life yet.’
I put my hands on the railing next to her. Josephine’s scent mingled with the smells of earth and nature. The truth was, I didn’t want to go back either. Just being here alone with her, away from the Circe and from everyone’s expectations, was an amazing reprieve that I wanted to go on forever.
I leapt easily over the metal railing, landing sure-footed on the flat granite rock. I turned and offered her my hand. ‘Then allow me to take you on the unofficial tour of Lover’s Leap. But we’ll just keep this between you and me. Park rangers aren’t real keen on this sort of thing.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ she said, sliding her hand comfortably into mine.
I glanced away, pretending I didn’t see the overwhelming distinction between her narrow, brown-tinted hand, and my ugly clawed gray one. Josephine swung herself over the railing with a performer’s practiced grace. ‘Look,’ she said, pointing to a groove in the rock. ‘That spot’s perfect.’
She seated herself first, and waited as I followed her actions, shifting my body different angles until my wings were sufficiently out of the way. The rock encased us both, nearly rendering us invisible from the trail.
Deep in the core of my being, emotions curled in smooth, lazy spirals. But they weren’t mine. They belonged to Josephine. Almost as if they were a language I’d learned ages ago, but couldn’t fully remember. But maybe, if I tried hard enough …
‘I might even blend in with the scenery,’ I said, pushing the thought aside. I slid my hands along the smooth granite. ‘You have to admit, there’s a certain resemblance.’
My heart did a backwards flip as Josephine hid her laugh with the back of her hand. Her laugh, like her voice, was something I would never get tired of. Ever. I wasn’t sure what else to say, though. I concentrated on the view in front of me, the clouds rolling in towards us in giant, grayish puffs.
‘So, how do you like living at the Circe?’ Josephine asked. ‘When you’re not fending off groties or narrow-minded carnies, that is.’ She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees. ‘Do you miss your clan?’
I watched a hawk flying low over the tree line. ‘Sometimes. Especially my brother. He’s the only family I’ve known.’ I made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a huff. ‘But the Corsis aren’t really my clan. In some weird way, I wish I did have a clan. A group I belonged to.’ I studied my dandelion tattoo. ‘And not because I’m some possession; the way your clan views me.’
‘I don’t think you’re a possession, Sebastian.’
‘I know.’ I glanced at her. Our earlier conversation replayed through my head, mixing with the weird emotional connection we somehow shared. ‘Josephine,’ I began with some uncertainty, ‘what did you mean when you said you understood what it’s like to be scared of something you can’t control?’
I felt her body stiffen beside me. ‘I’m not allowed to say.’
‘Hey, I told you about the whole Jekyll and Hyde thing I’ve got going on.’ I’d meant it as a joke, but the deeply serious, conflicted look in Josephine’s eyes staunched the humor I’d been going for. ‘I’m sorry, Josephine. I didn’t mean to pry. Just forget about—’
‘I’m next in line,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘To be Queen,’ she finished in a strained voice. She crossed her legs and clasped her hands in her lap. ‘My aunt is the Queen of the Outcast clans. The Romanys are more than just a head family. We’re Gypsy royalty.’
‘So that’s why I’m your guardian.’
Josephine shrugged. ‘That’s why Father thinks you were sealed to me, yeah. The Queen bears the responsibility of maintaining order within our kumpania. All bandoleers are under her authority. She’s also the only Outcast allowed communication with the Old Clans in Europe. We’ve maintained a pretty uneasy truce with them, which basically means we stay out of their business, and they stay out of ours.
‘Lots of bandoleers and even members of the High Council are hungry for the throne. No one knows who the Queen intends to name, and many are vying for their chance. My aunt believed keeping her decision secret was the best way to keep me safe. Our next meeting in Savannah is soon, and there are rumors that the Queen is supposed to make a public announcement.’
‘Will she?’
‘No.’ Josephine plucked a strand of moss from one of the cracks in the stone. She picked it apart with her fingers. ‘Even through I’m eighteen, I’m not quite an adult by Outcast Gypsy standards yet.’ Josephine tossed the greenery aside, irritated. ‘There’s still one requirement I have to fulfill.’
The emotional flow inside me sharpened suddenly. It ran up and down my nerves like a current. Something in her face gave me a nervous, jittery feeling. I opened my mouth to ask exactly what she meant, but I quickly changed my mind. It was clear by her expression that she wasn’t fond of the subject, and I wasn’t about to push. One step at a time, I reminded myself. I waited a few moments before cautiously venturing ahead.
‘So why are you telling me all this now, especially if your father ordered you to be silent about it?’
‘Nicolas wanted to test you,’ she replied, ‘to see how far you would go to protect me, and to reassure himself of your loyalty to our clan. But I don’t feel the same way he does.’ Josephine held my gaze with a strength that made the hair on the back of my neck rise. ‘I trust you, Sebastian. I always have. I don’t need a test for that.’
A key jingled in the lock of the front door.
I jerked back from wherever I’d been. Early morning light illuminated the checkered curtains.
‘Mama, come on,’ said a man’s voice from outside. ‘You’ll be late for church.’
The door started to open. I flipped backwards over the counter and landed in a crouch behind it, just underneath the cash register. I heard the door squeak and the scents of Gypsies filled my nose.
A woman spoke. ‘I’ll just be a second. I’ve got to check the meatballs and make sure they thawed. You know how many we’re expecting for lunch.’
‘Service starts at 8:00.’
‘Two seconds, Yoska,’ said the woman.
My stomach plummeted. I held my breath as the two Gypsies walked past the counter and headed straight for the kitchen. I had to get out! I crawled around the counter on all fours, struggling to get my hood up at the same time. Suddenly, the woman’s startled shriek filled the room, followed by a long string of words I didn’t understand.
I shot through the front door into the sunrise.
23. Josephine
My eyes fluttered
open.
I was staring at the underneath portion of the wingback chair. The legs were scratched and worn with years, and a thin layer of dust had turned the black fabric spider web gray. Beside me, my necklace lay in a crumpled pile, nearly obscured inside the thick rug. I reached out to grasp the pendant; thankful the glass bauble hadn’t hit anything hard.
My temple pulsated with the beating of my heart. I touched the wound Anya had left me. A fresh trickle of blood ran down my hairline. I must’ve hit my head when I—
What had happened? I remembered concentrating on communicating with Sebastian, and then darkness. Had I fainted and then hit my head? I stood carefully to my feet, found a box of tissue on the end table, and dabbed the blood away.
My senses gradually refocused. I stepped to the window of the study and yanked aside the curtain. The sky was deep purple through the thick, moss-laden trees. It was almost dawn.
I rubbed my shoulder muscles, working out the kinks, and then refastened the necklace around my neck. I touched the pendant hesitantly with my fingertips. The glass was cool now. Not like it’d been when I’d …
Had Sebastian heard me?
If he had, then it was definitely a one-way vibe, because I didn’t feel anything back. My heart sank a few inches. Maybe Ezzie was wrong. Maybe I’d just imagined the whole thing.
I left the study and made my way up the back stairs. I approached our room, keeping close to the edge of the hallway so the floorboards wouldn’t squeak as I walked. I opened the door and stepped in as softly as I could. Katie needed sleep as much as I did.
I tiptoed across the room, concentrating so much on being quiet that it was several seconds before my brain registered that the dresser lamp was still on. A weird prickle went up my spine. I whirled around.
The bed was empty.
I looked to the open bathroom door. The room was unoccupied. Then I studied the bed again. The comforter was pulled up, and the pillows were in the same scattered arrangement they’d been when we’d first gotten here and Katie had taken a nap on top of them while I showered. Nothing had changed.
Midnight Page 19