by Ann Gimpel
Her wolf’s vision provided enough illumination to see a rounded tunnel, clearly constructed by human hands, and not all that long ago from the looks of the materials. “What is this place?” she asked.
Without answering, he led them through a door into a small, cozy room, closing the door once they were inside. The walls were lined with lumber and bricks, much like the tunnel had been. Fire crackled in a hearth carved out of one end of the chamber. A table and chairs sat next to one wall, and a small sofa graced the other. Illumination came from the fire and her father’s mage light.
He walked across the room and pulled an armoire open. Gathering a robe, he laid it over the sofa. “Shift, daughter. It will make it easier to talk.”
Daughter. He called me daughter.
At least he acknowledged me.
Tairin froze in place. Part of her wanted to launch her wolf form at the tall man with the chilly eyes and drive him to the carpeted floor. She could rip out his carotid. Get even for him abandoning her all those years back—
“Get hold of yourself,” her wolf snapped. “Now. If I’d realized how much bitterness you harbored, I never would have brought you here.”
“Your wolf is wise,” her father said. “I’ll turn around while you shift and cover yourself.”
Tairin swallowed saliva dripping from her mouth. “Before I settle in for tea and crumpets—” She winced. Even her mind voice sounded sarcastic. “My wolf went behind my back to summon you, which means you must know about the vampires too. Will you help the Romani kill them?”
Her father, Jamal Jabari, twisted his mouth in what might have been a grim smile. “Not much love lost between us and the Rom, but nothing says shifters can’t take on vampires on our own. We scarcely require Romani magic to augment ours.”
“You’re just as stubborn as your daughter,” her wolf sputtered. “The magic is complementary, additive. You’re stronger working together than either of you separately.”
Jamal gestured toward the robe. “Please. I’d rather argue with you in human form.”
“My wolf will still be here. Still have opinions.”
He snorted. “You think I don’t know that? My wolf has given me hell for the last two hundred years. Ever since I walked away from part of my pack to honor the other part.” Shaking his head, he added, “No matter which path I’d chosen, it would have been wrong.”
Words rioted through Tairin’s brain. So many words. All the internal conversations she’d held with her father—and her mother—in the years since she’d been on her own. The epithets she’d hurled their way for being careless enough to produce a child burned the back of her throat, and she loped to the robe, not caring if Jamal turned around or not.
Shift magic augured into her, but she welcomed the pain as her human body formed. Snatching up the robe, she wrapped it around herself before the air stopped glimmering around her.
Tairin spun to face her father. “The Rom murdered Mother. I’ve been on my own since I was thirteen. Did you know that? I spent my first century as a wolf to keep from being raped.”
Guilt and resignation streamed from Jamal. His forehead creased in pain, and his eyes developed a pinched look. “I didn’t know the last part. How were you able to recapture your humanness after so long?”
“An old Romani woman found me. Luckily, it was after I’d managed to complete shifting. It took a week. A week of pain so bad I longed for death, but didn’t have hands to kill myself. I tried to throw us off a cliff, but my wolf refused. It never stopped believing in me. In us.”
“That’s what fathers are for,” he said in a voice laced with regret. “No number of apologies can make up for what I did to you, so I won’t even try. What I did instead is gather a cadre of shifters willing to go after the vampire nest you uncovered.”
Tairin’s mouth gaped open. She shut it with a snap. Just like that. Jamal wasn’t going to let her wallow in feeling sorry for herself. Or get lost in anger she had every right to indulge in. She crawled out of the pit she’d been digging herself and set her jaw in a hard line.
“What about the Romani?”
“What about them?” Jamal countered. “I’m having a hard time believing they want to join us on any battlefield. They don’t trust us. And we don’t trust them.” He blew out a tight breath. “Make no mistake, daughter—”
“You will not call me that.” She straightened her spine, facing off against him. “When you chose your other obligations over me, and agreed never to see me again, you lost the right to call me daughter.”
“Fine. Make no mistake, Tairin, killing even one vampire would be hard, and there are twelve to dispatch. We cannot afford any distractions.”
“Romani will strengthen you.” Her wolf joined the conversation.
“Maybe,” Jamal conceded. “If we weren’t too busy watching our backs to take advantage of whatever shared magic might buy us.”
“How many shifters agreed to help?” Tairin asked.
“Twenty-five. Some wolves, some ravens, one vulture, some mountain lions. I was grateful for the birds because vampires can’t fly.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me where the nest is, and I’ll leave.”
Reality reared up, socking her in the gut. “Wait a minute. I’m part of this.”
“No, you’re not. We never include women in battles. We’re no different from the Romani in that regard.”
Tairin curved her fingers until her nails cut into her palms. None of this was going as she’d planned it. A vicious laugh bubbled up. Since when had any of her life gone as planned?
“Did you know about this part?” she asked the wolf.
“Not exactly, but I figured including the Rom—and us—would be an uphill struggle.”
“Hurry,” Jamal urged. “The others are waiting for me. It’s best to take care of things like this when energy is running hot. One of the few things we hold in common with the Romani is knowledge that the Reich abhors magic. I’m certain they have a secret ‘final solution’ to rid themselves of the vampires as soon as they no longer need their power. If they secure their chokehold on Europe, we’re done for.”
Tairin longed for Elliott. As another man, maybe he’d hold the key to talking sense into her father. He wasn’t here, though, so she’d have to do what she’d done all her life. Find a way through. Not capitulate—even when things looked impossible.
Jamal opened his mouth, but she made a chopping motion with one hand. “Take me with you. You want the vampires dead, need to cut off the power they’re funneling into the Reich. I know where they are.” Tairin leveled her gaze at her father.
“I can pluck the information out of your mind,” he said.
“Ha! Try it. You’ll find I’m not the puny thirteen-year-old you deserted.”
He grimaced as if she’d slapped him. Good. Bastard needed a wakeup call. “Your choice.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Take me with you, or my wolf and I are leaving. We’ll do the best we can with Romani magic.”
“Have you forgotten? Other shifters don’t accept you.”
She shrugged. “Neither do the Rom after last night when I told them what I am. I can live with that. Besides, that whole thing where Romani and shifters are forbidden congress is based on a legend. Apparently, a Rom-witch mix and a shifter produced a devil child long before anyone understood genetics. I’m sure the kid was an anomaly, an aberration, but the ancients were superstitious and decided the safest route would be to make certain it never happened again.”
She watched understanding play across his face. “You’re saying my people forced me to choose based on a legend, a myth?”
“Yup. Are you going to take me to whoever signed on to fight vampires, or not?”
“What about including the Romani,” her wolf persisted.
“One battle at a time,” she replied.
The muscles in Jamal’s jaw worked. “I’ll bring you with me, but I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“We’ll ta
ke our chances,” the wolf spoke up.
A tightly wound place deep inside her relaxed just a little. “Human or wolf?” she inquired.
“Human. We’re not going far.” He strode past her and out of the room.
“How far is not far?” she called after him. “I don’t have shoes.”
“You asked for this,” he told her, without so much as looking back. “Don’t complain.”
Tairin watched where she walked, mage light suspended over one shoulder. The passageway was cold, but the ground outside held a layer of frost. The false cliff was open when she got there, and she strode through. Once she was outdoors, she doused her light. The soles of her feet burned before they turned numb as she followed her father’s retreating back. Anger kindled at his callousness, but she relegated it to a minor role. It took far more than blood to call someone family. Jamal had made his choice when he walked away, and if she’d nurtured a secret hope he’d gush over her with apologies, she needed to get over it fast.
I don’t need him. Once I did, but that time is long past.
“Steady,” the wolf said. “This will grow harder before it gets easier.”
Jamal stopped in front of another cliff, twin to the one that had sheltered his spot from discovery. Magic rose around him, turning the air iridescent. “What are all these places?” Tairin asked.
“If you’d grown up with shifters, you’d know we have shelters scattered everywhere. They’re all concealed with similar magic, and each has a subtle…draw to it. When one of us runs into trouble, if we project our magic on a particular frequency, it will lead us to the closest place we can hide.”
She bit her tongue to avoid telling him he’d made certain she lost out on her shifter birthright. Two-hundred-year-old ire had no place here, but it was damned hard to let go of. “How can I get out if I need to leave in a hurry?”
Jamal sent an appraising glance her way. “Good question. You may not hold any fondness for me, but you inherited my practical side. Your wolf possesses the answer to your query.” Her father turned to her. Power flared from his hands and the stone illusion began breaking into motes of nothingness. “Once you’re inside, the only way you’ll leave is if the others let you. Just so you’re clear about that.”
“They’d kill their own?” She shuffled from foot to foot, trying to move blood into toes that felt like blocks of ice.
“No. But they don’t include you in that group. You could still escape a confrontation with the ones within.” Compulsion wove into his words, subtle but noticeable. She felt herself weakening and longed for her wolf’s warm fur and weatherproof paws.
“Tell me where the vampires are, daughter. It’s all I require.”
His last words broke through her vacillation. She stood tall, shoulders squared. Even though she was a few inches shorter than her father, she skewered him with fury. “I required a lot of things from you, and you didn’t deliver a one of them. Why the fuck should I accommodate you? Finish the spell. Open the door. We’re doing this my way, or not at all.”
“As you will. Don’t say I didn’t warn you if things go badly once you’re inside.”
She curled her lips back from her teeth, mimicking the wolf’s snarl. “I get it. You abandoned me once. Easier a second time. I know exactly where your allegiance lies, Father, and it’s not with me.”
“Was that truly necessary?”
“Yes. Take care of the goddamned door.”
“I can do that,” the wolf said. “Open your mind to me.”
“Not necessary.” Jamal chanted a few words in Gaelic, and the remains of the illusory cliff fell away.
Good thing to know that their spell language was different from what the Romani used. Even better, her Gaelic was passable since she’d spent long hours with Stewart, letting him teach her the lyrical tongue.
“Let’s go,” the wolf urged. “If the tide turns against us, follow my lead.”
If the tide turned against them, they’d be dead. At least according to her poor excuse for a father. She considered asking the wolf what it had in mind, but it might be better if she didn’t know. What wasn’t front and center in her mind couldn’t be stripped from it.
Her stomach twisted from tension, and the sour taste of adrenaline flooded her mouth. She pushed it all aside. Shifters could smell her fear, and she’d be damned if she’d go into a room full of the bastards in a one down position.
Chapter 10
Elliott was tucking several books into his saddlebags when Michael, Stewart, Valentin, Alex, and several others rode into the circle of wagons. It was closing on nine in the evening. At first, he ignored them, planning to ride for the grotto, but that was his pride talking. His resentment at how rude they’d been to Tairin. He reminded himself they were all in this together, and people in tight spots often said and did things that were self-defeating.
It would be wise of him not to join that particular herd. The one that reacted rather than thinking things through. Smarter to shove his feelings to a place where they didn’t color his actions. Latching the saddlebags, he made his way to Michael and Stewart. “We need two plans,” he said, not bothering with a greeting. “One that includes shifters and one that doesn’t.”
“Agreed.” Michael nodded tiredly. “And we must be ready to deploy one or the other as soon as we know if Tairin’s shifters will lend their magic.”
“’Twon’t be easy fighting side by side with shifters. Most Rom consider them enemies, same as they view Nazis,” Stewart muttered.
“Yeah, well, I’m sure shifters feel the same way about us,” Elliott said. “In truth, they don’t need us as much as we need them.”
“They may be stronger than we are magically, but even a group of shifters might not have enough power to take on a nest of vampires.” Valentin joined them, seemingly recovered from his earlier snit.
“I was going to return to my grotto to read—” Elliott glanced around the group “—but maybe I’ll remain here for a while. When I was deciding which of the lore books to take, I came across an interesting section.”
“What was in it?” Michael sounded intrigued.
“Not sure. I didn’t give it much time beyond chapter headings, but it seemed to address commingled power and how it’s stronger than any of its individual components.” He paused, thinking. “Tairin is living proof of that. Her magic is potent. I have no way to compare it to shifter power, but she’s far stronger than any Romani.”
“Go get the book,” Stewart said. “I’ll put a kettle on. We’ll brew tea with whiskey and puzzle through it.”
Elliott dug through his saddlebags until he found the volume he wanted. Its cracked, leather binding revealed its age. They were one of the only caravans that still kept lore books, mostly because the ability to read Coptic had declined among their folk. By the time he walked up the steps and into Michael’s wagon, the men had started on Stewart’s tea and whiskey concoction.
Elliott settled in a corner and opened the book on his lap, thumbing through its dog-eared pages. Someone thrust a glass into his hand, and he sipped as he read. Fortunately, the arcane form of Coptic took all his attention, otherwise his thoughts would’ve strayed to Tairin. Where she was. How she was doing. Most importantly, if she were safe.
Her wolf would do its best, but if a pack of shifters turned on them… Elliott dragged his full attention back to the lore book. He was too far away to help. What he should have done was insist on coming with her.
Why hadn’t he?
When the answer came, embarrassment filled him. He wasn’t fond of shifters, and his presence might’ve tipped the tables against the other magical creatures aiding them. He could shield his thoughts, but maybe not well enough to fool a roomful of shifters, who’d all have been focused on him.
Tairin was a shifter. Loving her meant he needed an attitude adjustment. And damned fast.
“Ye’re daydreaming.” Stewart’s voice broke into Elliott’s thoughts.
He glanced at the c
anny old Scott. “Indeed I was.”
“What did you find?” Michael moved next to Elliott, scanning the open pages.
“Unfortunately, nothing concrete. The lore includes vague allusions to combined power being stronger, but it also mentions the age-old antipathy between Romani and every other magic wielder out there.” Elliott frowned. “When did we become so insular and stop trusting everyone?”
Michael shrugged. “Probably when vampires, shifters, faeries, and mages drove us out of Egypt.”
“The antagonism between us and the rest of our magical kin predates that by a long time,” Valentin said. “They hated us long before Egypt, and the feeling was mutual.”
“History is fascinating, but not particularly relevant,” Michael cut in.
“Agreed.” Elliott glanced at the men packed into the small space. “Did you change your minds about tackling the vampires by ourselves?”
Color rose from the neck of Michael’s shirt. “Yes. Walking away was never the right path. Listening to Tairin—a woman—say ‘desperate times require desperate solutions. Even if you refuse to help, I’m betting shifters will take on the vampires,’ was quite a wakeup call for the rest of us.”
“’Twill take a lot of us,” Stewart cut in. “Sixty to be precise. Five for each vampire. We will attack simultaneously. One Rom will leverage magic while three hold the vampire down with more magic. The last man drives a silver stake through its heart.”
Elliott’s eyes widened. It was a bold plan. One requiring split-second timing and absolute dedication. If even one Romani got cold feet, he’d put the entire group in mortal danger.
“So we can do this without the shifters,” he said, not quite believing the others’ assessment.
“Maybe,” Michael replied. “If we tap five men from each caravan, at least our losses will be spread evenly—if things go against us.”
“How can we protect ourselves from becoming immobilized—like I was? And they didn’t even know Tairin and I were there.”
Stewart reached over and plucked the book out of Elliott’s lap. “There should be amulets we can craft to stymie their power.” He glanced at the book’s spine and said, “Aye, this one’s as good a choice as any other.”