An angel approached Iron Star and saluted. “They were infiltrators from several enemy Egregores. One of those was our ancient foe, Serpent Lion. It appears that he has a renewed interest in the Root Hexagon. Another attacker, Dark Eyes, stepped in as well, even though he’s an enemy of Serpent Lion. We do not know yet how they managed to penetrate so far into Bald Eagle.”
Iron Star swore. “Serpent Lion and Dark Eyes.” He wiped his sword on a shapeless heap of cloth lying near his feet—all that remained of the enemy angels that had attacked. “This could be related to the power drop we experienced recently. Double the guard. Inform me immediately if you see any more interference. I leave you in command while I report this to Bald Eagle.” He slammed his sword into its scabbard and stalked toward the palace.
While the other Egregores had been troublesome for Bald Eagle, Dark Eyes required special attention. He had been fighting a desperate battle to disrupt the Root Hexagon ever since its capture by Bald Eagle. The initial assault by Serpent Lion had probably opened the portal for Dark Eyes to attack. However, it should be possible to fan the flames of their mutual hatred.
War on Earth
The woman at the grocery store turned to her friend. “I heard they’re sending our boys back to Iraq.”
“No! Not again…” Her friend’s hand flew to her mouth.
—
“We’re marching on the Federal building,” Rafe said at lunch. “Someone’s gotta stop this.”
His two friends nodded, frowning. Roma should stick together when times got tough.
—
“More Roma are gonna die in gadje wars.” The old woman shrugged. “What can we do?”
—
“That stuff in the Middle East is none of our…”
—
“… none of our business…”
—
“Big business…”
—
“Yeah.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nadia’s House
While ancient foes trade bitter blows
That echo in the worlds below
The earthly pawns do play their games
To reinforce the status quo.
Nadia was highly regarded in the Roma community, which was already predisposed to celebrating virtually any occasion. Her birthday party was, therefore, a blowout. Because she had insisted that everyone wear what she called traditional attire and celebrate with music, they took the excuse to wear flashy clothes and show off the best dance steps.
A fiddler, two guitarists, and an accordion player were playing lively tunes, and a large contingent of dancers swirled near the bonfire, Angela among them. Light flashed from sparkling jewelry, the long skirts of the women fluttered and billowed as they spun, and the men’s vests, dark pants, and brightly decorated shirts bestowed a dazzling array of colors to the Romani throng, boisterous with drink and song.
Angela skipped away from the dancers to take a break. Her body tingled from the endorphin rush, and she could feel sweat cooling on her face as she plunked down in a chair away from the fire.
One of her cousins, a heavyset, bearded man sitting next to her, touched her shoulder. “Where’s Cassandra?”
Angela looked at him and shrugged, masking a surge of frustration. “She couldn’t make it.”
“Too bad. The music’s great tonight.”
Angela nodded. She had gotten Cassandra’s voicemail how many times now? Obviously, she had blown off Nadia’s invitation yet again.
The tune changed, and Angela looked back at the dancers, thoughts of her errant girlfriend temporarily driven away. She shot to her feet as one of her favorite songs kicked off. “C’mon. I love this tune.”
She reached over to tug at his hand, but then she paused, feeling a powerful sense of being watched. She turned to look, her heart sinking and her enthusiasm losing some of its sparkle. Nadia beckoned from her seat away from the fire. Angela hesitated, debating whether to ignore her great-aunt, but then she let go of her cousin’s hand reluctantly and waved vaguely toward the bonfire. “Go ahead. Nana wants to talk to me.”
Her cousin grinned and trotted back into the dancing fray. Angela went over to where Nadia was sitting in a lawn chair.
“Are you having fun?” her great-aunt asked.
“I am. You throw the best birthday parties.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I wish Cassandra could have come.”
“Well, you know.” Angela shrugged. “Sometimes she gets distracted. I’m sure she’ll have some reason waiting for me when I get back.”
Nadia reached up and put her hand on Angela’s arm. “I wanted to talk to you while everyone’s busy.”
Angela crouched, but Nadia shook her head. “Pull up a chair.”
Angela found another lawn chair, moved it closer to Nadia, and perched on the edge of the seat.
“I had a vision of you last night,” Nadia continued. “Were you doing anything… special?”
Angela nodded, though inwardly she squirmed. “Cassie and I sometimes play a little bit when we dance. We’ve worked out some interesting techniques.”
“I thought so. You know how I feel about playing with power, so I won’t repeat myself. But my vision had nothing to do with dancing.” She cleared her throat and picked up a glass from the table next to her. She sipped from it and set it down. “You were dressed in armor that glowed in all the colors of the rainbow. You had weapons, and you looked ready to go to war.”
“No way.” Angela pursed her lips. “You know how I feel about war.”
“Yes, I know. It was that Great War you’ve told me about, wasn’t it? That would make a pacifist out of me, too.”
“It’s not just the old War.” Angela glanced toward the fire then back at Nadia. “I’ve been treating patients with PTSD, and none of my clinical training prepared me for the reality. I have more in common with the vets than I thought.”
“PTSD?”
“Post-traumatic stress disorder. They used to call it shell shock.”
“Ah, right.” Nadia shook her head. “I had a cousin in Vietnam who came back a broken man.”
“Well, these boys—they’re mostly boys—came back from Iraq. Sounds like we’re repeating a lesson we didn’t learn.”
“Yes. But back to the vision.” Nadia shifted in her chair. “You were at War. Angela, please listen to me.”
Angela stopped herself from glancing at the fire again and focused her attention on her great-aunt.
“You need training,” Nadia continued. “Yes, you have more power than any of us. And yes, you remember things you learned from very long ago. But this is the here and now, and you are human. You are Roma.”
Angela shook her head. “Nana, I know what you’re saying, and you’re probably right. But this just isn’t a good time. Between the clinic and the new patients and Cassie, I just don’t have the energy. When Granddad was teaching me, I would be wiped out for a week sometimes.”
Nadia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to his oversoul for instruction. You also know how I feel about that.”
“That’s none of your concern, Nana.”
Nadia shrugged. “Be that as it may, your power isn’t going to wait. And my vision tells me that soon you will be forced to choose your path. I want you to know that you don’t need to do it alone.”
Angela could not simply outright refuse Nadia after all her great-aunt had done to receive both her and Cassandra back into the community.
Angela placed a hand on her great-aunt’s shoulder. “Nana, I really can’t promise anything. But I will see if there’s a way for Eric to cover for me one day a month.”
Nadia nodded. “Thank you, Angela. This means a lot to me.”
“Thank you for caring for us.”
Nadia made a shooing motion. “Now. Go dance. I hear another tune starting.”
Angela pecked Nadia on the cheek and went back to the dance circle.
Late that night, after the party, her cousin Martha visited N
adia for a prescription. When she was ready to leave, Martha stood by the door, clutching a small paper bag with both hands.
Standing on aching feet, Nadia leaned on her cane. “You know what to do.”
“A pinch in his coffee in the morning and a teaspoon with his meal at night.”
Nadia nodded. “And be sure to add a little sugar. It can be bitter. Call me in a week. Sooner, if things turn around quicker than that.”
Martha smiled, her plain features beautified by the expression. “Good night, cousin. And happy birthday.”
“Thank you. Good night to you, too.”
Martha left, closing the door after herself. Nadia returned to her chair and lowered herself into it with a grunt. She glanced in the direction of the hallway. “Michael! Martha’s gone.”
There was a moment of silence, and then he opened the door and shuffled down the hall to the living room. “That’s the third one tonight. The spirits must be anxious.”
“What would you know about spirits?” She paused. “No, it was man trouble. We can lay that at the feet of the gadje and their evil ways.” Nadia proffered her empty teacup. “Now be a good brother and make us some tea.”
Michael took her cup to the kitchen and got one out of the cabinet for himself. While he made tea, Nadia brooded. Angela’s relationship with Cassandra was controversial in the community among those who knew of it. Her dream-walking talent was both a boon and a curse, depending on whether the Roma considered it a gift from Del or sorcery from Beng. And her status in the Roma community was still recovering from the ban of marimé that had only been lifted late the previous year.
There were no easy solutions. Nadia reluctantly concluded that she needed to talk to her brother about the girl. Michael was a wise man for all that he lacked anything of the Gift or the Sight. He was also closer to his great-niece than Nadia, much to her chagrin.
“I need your advice on a matter to do with Angela and Cassandra.” She tried to keep all inflection out of her voice. “It came to a head at the party.”
Michael glanced at her and lifted an eyebrow. “Angela looked like she was having fun. But I didn’t see Cassandra anywhere.”
“She never showed up. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes when Angela sees her again.” Nadia chuckled.
“You don’t like Cassandra, do you?” Michael frowned.
Nadia returned his look for a moment, contemplating how much to tell him. Well, if she wanted his advice, she had better be forthright. “Cassandra is a wild child. She was homeless for the last five or so years. It’s not her fault, but I don’t think she’s a good influence on Angela. You know.”
He nodded. “There’s that. But they’re in love. You’ve seen them together.”
“Angela just hasn’t found the right man yet. She’s got a touch of the wild in her, too. Her momma was a hippie gadjo after all.”
The kettle began whistling. Michael poured the tea and brought two cups and saucers back into the living room. He gave her one and went to his own chair, grunting as he sat. He glanced at Nadia. “Why don’t you leave Angela be? She’s had a hard year.”
“If it was just Angela, I would.” Nadia set her cup aside. “You know I care about her. But you know what she is. And what she can do.”
“Yes, I do. Nadia, she’s deep, like George was. I think you need to trust her more.” He sipped his tea and regarded her over the steaming cup.
Nadia blew across the top of the cup to cool it then took a sip. He had a point, and after all, she had asked his opinion. She settled farther back in her chair. “It’s not just her I’m worried about. Michael, our community is in trouble.”
“Trouble?” He frowned. “More than the usual trouble?”
“There’s an old story that our momma told me. It was about a Rom boy who decided to go to the city to make his fortune. His daddy took him aside and made him memorize this spell.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Turn, turn, turn away. I will never go astray.”
Nadia sipped her tea and continued. “He told his boy to close his eyes and use this charm whenever a gadjo wanted to show him tempting trinkets or lure him away from the laws of his people.” She paused.
Michael nodded his understanding. He must have heard stories like this one.
She cleared her throat. “Well, he went to the city. Sure enough, along comes a prostitute. He saw her, shut his eyes, and made the spell until she went away. Later he met a man who wanted to take his horse and cart and give him a car. He shut his eyes and said the spell until the man grumbled and went away. But each time he saw a temptation, it took him a little longer to shut his eyes, a little longer to say the spell. Soon, he stopped saying the spell, and then he kept his eyes open, and snap! He was trapped by the gadje. Left the ways of the Roma and became a vagabond and wasted his days and died unhappy.”
She sipped more tea and watched her brother. Michael waited, unspeaking. He was, she knew, aware that she had a point to make in telling the story. Nadia sighed. “This is happening to us.”
He rolled his eyes. “That is not news, Nadia. Everywhere we go, the gadje tempt us. We have to live in their world, so we grow and change. That is how life is.”
Nadia waved irritably. “No, no, no. I know all that. I’m saying that in the last few years, we have been losing families, whole families. They turn their backs on the rest of the Roma and disappear into the world of the unclean ones. Some of us…”
She put her teacup down again, feeling her anger rise. “Some of us have gone and joined the military. Rom boys fighting for the gadje. Dying for them too. What are we going to do about it?” She smacked her thigh in frustration.
“Nadia,” Michael said gently. “I know that already. It’s not news. Our people have fought in wars for a very long time.”
She stared at him. “You don’t understand. Since last year, eighteen Roma families have just disappeared. Gone. Moved away, left no way to reach them, no explanation, and no contact with anyone on the road.”
It was his turn to stare. “Eighteen? That can’t be right. There was a big bunch of us at your party this evening.”
“Yes, and I am thankful for them. But they are our clan. Two of my cousin’s daughters came to me. I cannot tell you what they had to say, but I can tell you that we are losing people. Something is tempting them away from the Roma. And I believe Angela can stop it. But how can I convince her to help?” She lifted both hands then dropped them.
“Ah, I see now.” Michael set his cup down. “You think this is something from the Otherworld coming to steal us away. You want her to go there, find it, and stop it. Like when she fought the Soul Thief.”
Nadia’s breath caught in her tightening throat. That battle had taken the life of their brother. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
“Nadia, why don’t you just tell her what you told me?”
She spread her hands again. “It’s not that simple. She needs to gain the trust of these families. Otherwise, they will not let her go into their meadows to find this thing that is weakening us. How are they going to trust a lesbian psychiatrist half Romani with their souls?”
Michael’s lips pressed together in a grim line. “So this is really about Cassandra. Nadia, this is not something you will be able to change Angela’s mind about. She’ll walk away from all of us again if we meddle in her life.”
“I can’t believe that. Surely she—”
“Nadia, listen to me. Angela came to me a couple of months ago to talk about Cassandra. She wanted my approval. I am not comfortable with the homosexual life, but she had a light in her eyes I have not seen in many years.”
He turned in his chair to face her. “If Angela helps us, she’ll do it on her own terms. She is older and wiser than all of us put together, Nadia. You’ve heard some of her stories. She led all of her people to this world.” He shook a fist, suddenly animated. “She killed the Soul Thief. She saved us all. And she can do it again. Please, just talk to her. Tell her what you know. Also tell he
r your fears. Trust her.” He stopped, staring fiercely at her.
Nadia looked down at her hands. He was sensible, true, but he failed to see the bigger picture. She would have to keep chipping away at his misguided opinion. Sighing deeply, she looked back up. “Maybe you’re right. But it’s not going to last. One day she will meet a man, and he will melt her heart. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
War in Heaven: Serpent Lion and Dark Eyes
Realm of the Egregore Serpent Lion
“Leave.” The woman lounging on the Lion Throne waved an imperious hand. Her attendant angels were naturally reluctant to depart, delaying as long as possible to drink in the sight of her. Several of them—nude, male, and beautiful—were the last to leave. She relented and shifted form, allowing them a glimpse of her—his—male body. Swooning, they departed.
He sighed as the last of his angels drew the hanging curtain across the doorway. Serpent Lion surveyed his throne room. It was the embodiment of luxury, the floor a mélange of rich color carpeted with soft, embroidered cushions and thick rugs. The walls were concealed by hangings, lanterns, and tapestries. The air was thick with scents both musky and sweet. Yet to his practiced eye, something was amiss, and he examined the details more closely, shifting back to female form out of an eons-long habit.
Then Serpent Lion saw it. Where there should have been a soft cushion, there was instead a large stone—patterned skillfully, to be sure, but hardly comfortable. In the instant that she identified it, it erupted with a roar. She leaped up off the throne. A geyser of stones and other debris exploded outward, coating all surfaces and filling the air with choking dust.
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