Raquel Byrnes

by Whispers on Shadow Bay

  The murmur of the crowd changed. Anger turned to shock. Some called for Nalla to let me go. I struggled in her grip, but she pressed in deeper, and I screamed with pain.

  Simon looked up, distracted, and his attacker lunged with the blade glancing Simon’s side. The crowd gasped, as he staggered backwards. Crimson stained his shirt across his ribs. His gaze was on mine, his face contorted with anger.

  “Let her go,” he growled.

  “A trade,” Nalla yelled. “Rosetta’s blood for my sister’s.” The feel of the edge against my skin sent fear ripping through me.

  “She has nothing to do with this,” Simon said. He held his hands out at his sides and let the dagger drop to the sand. “My life for Amanna’s.” He took a step toward us. “A fairer bargain.”

  People in the crowd nodded all around us, the look of worry on their faces evidence that Nalla had gone too far.

  “Let her go,” someone called. Others shouted their agreement.

  “No! Her death would destroy Simon,” Nalla hissed and pressed the blade deeper.

  A cry of pain escaped my throat.

  Simon froze.

  Heat snaked down my neck, a thin trickle. Blood. Tears blurred my vision, and Simon’s eyes found mine, anguish in their blue depths.

  “Do you not think I can see what is happening? How you are replacing my own sister? I see Lala holding Rosetta’s hand. This woman lives in Amanna’s house, kisses her husband,” Nalla screamed, her voice quaking with anger and sorrow. “You will not get away with my sister’s murder! Now you will know what it is like to lose a part of yourself, Simon.”

  Simon lunged for us. “Nalla, no—”

  A gunshot tore through the night. Everyone froze, their attention on Josif, who stood dripping wet with the barrel leveled at Nalla.

  “We don’t know he did it, cousin,” Josif said. “Let her go.”

  “Then let’s ask him now,” Nalla said. “Ask him if he killed my sister.”

  Simon’s face fell. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you see this…this deception?” Nalla spat. “Even now he will not—”

  “He has blackouts,” I said suddenly. “H-he did on that night.”

  Simon’s gaze caught mine; he hadn’t wanted to admit it.

  “He has them still.”

  “It is true, Nalla,” Josif said. “He does not remember.”

  “How can you not remember killing your own wife?” she screamed at him. “How do you forget taking a life? He is lying, Josif. Lying to keep this woman alive.” She yanked my head back by the hair, and I gritted my teeth, a hiss of pain escaping my lips.

  “He has not hidden these blackouts from me, Nalla,” Josif continued. “He wishes to know the truth of that night as you do.”

  “That is not true, Josif,” she said, her voice cracking. “For two years, there has been proof.”

  “What are you saying?” Josif’s face registered surprise. “What proof?”

  My heart stuttered. Our one ally on this beach and his gun hand wavered.

  “T-there was a witness. One of us. A witness that Hale threatened into silence.”

  The crowd gasped. Whispers of a cover-up floated to my ears. A witness?

  “Why have we never heard of this before?” Josif asked.

  “You know why. Davenport Hale will crush anyone who comes forward. This is justice.” She lifted her elbow, the knife digging into my skin. “This he cannot stop.”

  “And Lala?” Simon yelled.

  Nalla froze. “What of her?”

  “She deserves the truth of her mother’s death.” Simon stepped forward, his arms up in surrender. “I need to know the truth for her, Nalla. If I am a danger, then I will leave this island and trust her to the care of Amanna’s family. But I have to know what these blackouts are.”

  “How would we know?” Nalla snapped.

  “Because of this.” Simon reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and tossed it at her feet. Everyone stared, some crossing themselves and backing away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the braid. Gold and raven, tied with a red ribbon and bones.

  Nalla gasped.

  “This is a dark practice,” Simon yelled. “Look at it! Tell me this is not your old ways.”

  “You blame us?” she screamed.

  “I want to know, Nalla,” Simon said, his face a mask of frustration. “The truth.”

  “I won’t let you spill innocent blood, Nalla.” Josif shook his head. “If there is truth, then let it be known.”

  The crowd murmured, slowly rising as the standoff between Josif and Nalla continued.

  “Please,” I gasped, my hands on her wrist that held the blade. “The truth.”

  “The truth,” a voice called out from the crowd. Others joined in. “The truth.”

  She jerked us from side to side, as she faced the gypsies. They stared at us, the call for truth gaining volume. A cry rumbled out of her, and she threw me aside, tossing the dagger into the sand at my feet. I scrambled back, heart racing as my hand went to my throat. She went to her knees, sobbing. Simon ran to me, pulled me to my feet, and held me close.

  “Who is the witness?” Josif yelled at the crowd. “Come forward.”

  The people looked at each other, and the questioning din grew louder until Yasmine emerged from the throng. She wrung her hands, her whole body trembling.

  “I am the witness,” Yasmine said. “I saw Amanna die that night. She was not alone.”

  35

  The bonfire burned behind him casting shadows on the contours of his muscled torso. Simon stood in front of me, his slashed shirt a pile on the ground as I dabbed a torn piece of my skirt to the cuts from the knife fight. The slice at his shoulder was superficial, already clotting, but the gash over his ribs worried me. He wasn’t bleeding to death, but he should have stiches. I pulled in a ragged breath, my gaze flitting to the gathered gypsies on the other side of the flames. A tacit truce was called to await the head of the families. His boat was on its way to shore. I eyed the sky. Black tufts floated lazily lit from behind by the crescent moon.

  “You should really be at the hospital,” I said and wrapped a length of cloth I’d torn from my hem over his wound, binding it, and handed him back his shirt. “Simon, you could have been killed.”

  “But I wasn’t. And now I hope we’ll finally learn the truth.” Simon gazed down at me, his face framed in the light. Strong, determined, so achingly handsome. Smiling, he reached out, ran the back of his fingers along my jawline. A flare of heat rushed to my face. I tried to pull away, but Simon stopped me, brushed the pad of his thumb across my lips. “I like the pink I bring to your cheeks, love. Don’t hide that from me.”

  My gaze flitted to the crowd of gypsies. “Won’t they be angry if they see you touch me like this?”

  “They all know,” Simon said. “I won’t hide how I feel about you.”

  “Simon, I was so scared. I don’t want…” My voice broke as I struggled to tell him that I’d nearly lost my mind when I saw the daggers flying at him, when I’d seen the blood. I shook my head, lip trembling. I wiped at the tears on my face and took in a ragged breath. Why was it so hard for me to say how I felt? That the thought of never feeling his arms around me, never having a chance at what might be with him, scared me more than anything I’d ever faced. “I mean I can’t imagine w-what I would’ve—”

  “Rosetta,” Simon said. “It’s all right. Come here.” He reached out, tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and ran his finger down the curve of my neck, and it sent a thrill through me, my response to him so immediate even in the midst of all of this. He bent, kissed the line made by Nalla’s dagger, his breath hot on my skin. “You are positively fearless.”

  I was anything but fearless. I’d nearly abandoned him. Nearly broke my promise to stand by him. And still he looked at me like that. With his heart recklessly open.

  “Simon,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. In the room, after talking
to the sheriff, I let everyone’s whispers about you scare me.” Remembering the hurt in his eyes, a pang of guilt trilled through me.

  “Rosetta, the fact that you’re still here despite how everything looks means more than words can destroy.” He kissed my eyelids, the tip of my nose, the line of my jaw. “You have a truer heart than anyone I’ve ever known. I love you for it.”

  His arms slipped along my waist, pulling me close. All the fear and confusion quieted as I melted against him. So strong and warm, the angles of his body held mine, and I clung to him. I felt protected; safe. Despite what others said, when he pressed his lips to mine, my heart tumbled with something more than longing. More than heat and want. It felt real and unmistakably right. I wasn’t just seeing what I wanted. I knew in the deepest part of my soul that I loved him.

  Noise from the other side of the fire pulled our attention. The men broke from the crowd and walked towards the shore.

  Simon and I followed, standing a bit away from the rest.

  Josif looked over from the group, nodded once to Simon, his face unreadable.

  A boat approached, the dark around it broken by the glow of a lantern that hung over the two men inside. It reminded me of the boat used to ferry souls across the river Styx—low and creaking with a black shrouded ferryman at the helm.

  We stood farther from the bonfire now, and I felt the chill of the night air blowing through my hair.

  “What’s going to happen?” I whispered.

  “Deakon is the leader of this clan,” Simon said. “If anyone can settle this, it would be him.”

  “What, like a gypsy king?” I asked, and Simon chuckled.

  “Not quite, but things are decided by a vote of the council. Deakon is the head of it, followed by his son, Siyah. There are five others.”

  “Do you know them? I mean, well?” The boat drew closer, the figures of the men clearer.

  “I’ve known Siyah since childhood,” Simon said.

  “Well, that’s good, right?”

  “We fought a lot.” Simon shook his head, his gaze across the water on the craft. “Siyah is better suited to another time, another place. He has fire in his blood, that one.”

  “Will that hurt you in this meeting? What if they decide that Nalla’s solution is best?” My fingers found the cut at my throat, and I shuddered.

  “Nalla’s mind is clouded with grief. These men are reasonable,” Simon said and took my hand from my neck, lacing his fingers through mine. “Siyah understands loss.”

  The boat hit the shore, and the men helped to pull it further onto the sand.

  The two men climbed out and walked over to where Simon and I stood. The older man, Deakon was dressed in the baggy pants and traditionally sewn clothes of his clan. Silver hair, long and pulled into ponytail, set off his dark eyes.

  Siyah stood just behind him. Clad in a dark shirt and trousers covered with the long black coat of a sailor, his piercing blue eyes held mine before moving onto Simon.

  “Simon. I’ve been told you wish to bring something to light,” Deakon said. His voice was low and guttural, as if he’d first learned to form his words in another language.

  “Deakon,” Simon said, extending his hand. They shook and Simon nodded to Siyah. “This is Rosetta.”

  “The meeting was called on your behalf, Simon. Where do you want to speak?” Siyah asked. He nodded to the others. “Away from here, I imagine.”

  “The rocks,” Simon said and pointed to an area just beyond the light of the bonfire.

  “Strangely appropriate,” Siyah said with a slight upturn of his lip. He turned to his father.

  Deakon nodded. “That’s fine.”

  I hesitated, but Simon pulled me with him as we made our way to a pile of rocks near the cliff face.

  Deakon and Siyah followed, the lantern from the boat our only light this far from the fire. Siyah set the lamp on the surface of the rocks.

  “You’ve accused the families of dark things, Simon,” Deakon said. “The evidence is compelling but does not point to anyone in particular. I don’t know how we can help you find the truth of that night if your own mind keeps it hidden from you.”

  “There was a witness,” Simon said. “Someone I didn’t know about until now. I want to talk to her. Hear what she has to say.”

  “And if it is not what you hope for?” Siyah asked. “What then?”

  “Then I’ll deal with it,” Simon answered, his eyes narrowing at him. “I’ll make it right.”

  “The Hales had their chance to do that,” Siyah shot back. “Your father, in particular.”

  “Enough,” Deakon said, his hand going up between them. “You two can spar later. For now, we ask Yasmine.”

  Deakon turned, waved her over from her place at the fire. Everyone sat or stood near the flames, heads together in whispers, the glances our way full of curiosity.

  Yasmine trudged over, still wringing her hands. She emerged within the glow of the lantern, anxiety in her eyes.

  “What can you say about this?” Siyah asked. “Speak freely.”

  “The night of Amanna’s death I was here.” She pointed to a section of beach just below the face of Echo Cliff. Her gaze darted from mine to Simon’s and back up to the cliff side. “I heard voices. An argument between a man and a woman.”

  “Could you hear what they said?” Siyah asked.

  “No, it was too far. But it was angry. They shouted at each other. And then I heard a scream—the woman.” She turned to Deakon, her eyes brimming. “I did not know it was Amanna, not then. I heard something land on the ground, but even with the full moon that night, I saw nothing on the sand. I-I thought I had misunderstood, until I heard about Amanna.”

  A stricken look flitted across Simon’s face. He ground his jaw, his hand squeezing mine. I craned my neck, looked up at the cliff. I’d stood there, not an hour ago, almost going over as I watched the lights of the gypsy boats float by. With a full moon, it was possible to see people on the cliff’s edge. I believed Yasmine.

  “Is there anything more you can remember?” Simon asked. “Was it…did the voice sound—”

  “Like yours?” Siyah finished for him. To Yasmine, “Was it Simon up there?”

  “I don’t know,” Yasmine said.

  “That’s not much.” Simon shook his head, rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “But the fact that Amanna was not alone when she fell should have come out.”

  “And what of your disappearance,” Deakon asked. “After the evidence of the skin under her nails.”

  “The what?” Simon’s face registered shock. “There’s more?”

  “You didn’t know?” I asked, surprised.

  “That there was evidence of my wife’s killer? No.” He rammed his fist on the rock, walked a few paces away. Turning back to Deakon, he shook his head. “I was told that Levine ruled it an accident.”

  “Then why go missing?” Siyah asked. “And at such a convenient time to ensure an alibi. The evidence room floods, destroys the only key evidence in your wife’s murder, and you just happen to be gone? And why wait to report her missing for two days?”

  “I didn’t disappear. Lavender had almost drowned, lost her brother not two weeks before Amanna went missing. She developed an infection in her lungs from the water. I was with her in the ICU at the hospital in Seattle.” His eyes bored into Siyah’s gaze. “No one told me any of this.”

  “Nalla said that someone kept Yasmine’s account buried,” I said. “Were you threatened?”

  “I tried to tell the sheriff,” she answered. “When he was here investigating. I saw him at Mănâncă and tried to ask him to meet me.”

  “But he wouldn’t?” That didn’t make sense to me. Levine seemed genuinely angry that he’d not had any evidence.

  “I did not get a chance to ask him. But that night, an envelope was pushed under the door to my shop.”

  “Money,” Simon said, his face falling. “For your silence.”

  “And a threat,�
�� Yasmine said, her chin jutting out with defiance. “I wouldn’t have taken the money, but the money came with a note. That to talk was to accept my death in the same manner as Amanna’s.”

  “What?” Simon shook his head.

  “She was afraid for her life,” I whispered. “That’s why she never said anything.”

  “I may not remember that night, but I would never do such a thing,” Simon said.

  “I can’t see Simon threatening an old woman,” Siyah agreed. “But your father would do this, Simon, on your behalf.”

  Dawning spread across Simon’s features, and he staggered back as if physically hit with the knowledge. “If my father did this, then he believes I killed my own wife.”

  “What do you say, Rosetta?” Siyah asked me. His brow furrowed as he gazed at me. “Surely, you must have a reason for staying by the side of a man who may have thrown his wife to her death.”

  “Watch it,” Simon growled.

  “I want to know,” Siyah continued, unaffected by Simon’s anger. “What convinces you he is innocent?”

  “Simon’s blackouts are not only happening to him anymore.” I looked up at the cliff with a warble of fear running down my spine. “I nearly fell from there a few hours ago. I was in a trance, had been, apparently, in that state for hours.”

  “This is a new development,” Siyah said, amusement on his face.

  “Yes, and it’s a telling one,” I said. “It means that Simon’s blackouts are not a mysterious phenomenon, a relic of his guilt. If they’re happening to me, then they’re happening on purpose. I think that’s why Simon came here tonight. To find out if someone has been doing…something to him.”

  “Again,” Siyah said to Simon. “I question that blame.”

  “Really? The circle of candles, the binding and protection with the ashes, they all point to one of the families here,” Simon answered.

  “What could we possibly be doing to you? There is no magic to take a man’s mind like you say,” Deakon said. “Our families do not embrace the dark practices of our ancestors.”

  The old man nodded once to me and then turned, lumbering away toward the boat. I turned to Simon. He watched him leave, his jaw working.