by Belle Malory
I dropped to the ground, feeling the delicious state of exhaustion I craved.
Abby panted at my side. Though she’d been enjoying the exercise, she’d grown tired-a rare occurrence for the hyper pup.
After our run, I showered and made my way back to the RV. I swung open the door, finding Rex there, lounged on the sofa. He was reading a newspaper, looking as if he were waiting for someone. His amber eyes met mine as I walked in.
I held my breath. I didn’t want to be the first one to speak. If I had to begin this conversation, I would fail, stumbling through some inarticulate monologue he would never understand.
Thankfully, he spoke first.
“You’re finally back.”
“You were waiting on me?” I asked casually.
“Yes. And you took long enough, by the way. The first time Lola and Gabe trust me enough to babysit a person and I thought I lost you. That would’ve been tough to explain.”
“Babysit?” I asked, confused. “Where is everyone?”
“Gone. Lina went to pick up Zetta from the airport. Lola and Gabe didn’t think it was safe for her to go alone, so they went with her.” Rex leaned over to pet Abby, who was extremely happy to see him. “Where have you been this whole time?”
“I went for a run.” I said this slowly, wondering why it felt as if I were explaining myself. I moved to the kitchen sink, filling up a bowl of water. I set it down on the floor for Abby, but she didn’t move, too busy being scratched by Rex.
I eyed her dubiously, the traitor.
“About last night,” Rex began.
Oh, no, I thought frantically. He was actually going to bring it up.
My heart hammered a million beats per second. My mind screamed, sending subconscious messages, please don’t go there!
“And about your bucket list,” Rex continued. The sound of his voice crystalized through the loud buzz of my thoughts. “I want to show you something. Come with me.”
Immediately, my confusion took root.
What was he up to? What game was he playing?
He eyed me up and down. “You might want to put a swimsuit on.”
I stared at him as if he were crazy. “It’s like, fifty degrees out and you want me to put a swimsuit on?”
He shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you were prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” I asked pointedly.
“Patience,” he said wryly, “is a virtue. One that you’re clearly lacking, babe.”
I ignored his attempt to berate me. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”
He looked me over again, clucking his tongue. “Well then, you’ll have to do,” he allowed, then grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”
Rex dragged me out of the RV. If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess he was enthusiastic about whatever it was he wanted to show me, which made me even more curious.
He brought me down the trail that led to the lake, hurrying me along. Earlier, when I’d run beside the lake, no one was around. But now there were tons of Irish Travelers occupying the area.
They were playing in the lake. Loud music radiated from somewhere. Someone sped past us in a jet ski, and another group of people migrated around the dock. I squinted, trying to see what they were doing. I watched as someone tethered a rope to the back of a miniature speedboat. The boat took off while the person stood up, holding onto a rope with a handle and sliding onto the water with a thin board beneath their feet.
“They’re wakeboarding,” Rex explained.
“Yes, I know what wakeboarding is,” I replied, not sharing the fact that this was the first time I’d actually seen it done in person.
I watched as the boat took a sharp turn. The person on the wakeboard lost their grip and tumbled into the water.
“Ouch,” said Rex, who was surveying the scene. “That was a nasty face plant.”
“The Irish are clearly insane,” I surmised, considering my overall experience with them so far.
“Don’t speak so soon because you’re up next.” He grinned devilishly.
Slowly, I asked, “What do you mean I’m up next?”
“Come on.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me in the direction of the docks.
I shook my head emphatically. “There’s no way I’m doing that. I’ll kill myself!”
“Come on Spence, this was on your bucket list.”
I looked at him like he’d gone off the deep end.
“I don’t ever remember telling you that wakeboarding myself into an early demise was on my bucket list.”
“No, but you did say parasailing was on it.”
“So?” I asked. “What’s your point? That has nothing to do with wakeboarding.”
He shrugged. “It’s close enough. Now come on.”
I dug my heels into the ground as he tried to pull me. “I don’t want to do it, Rex. You can’t make me.”
He swung around to face me, gripping me by my shoulders. “Spencer, are you going to spend your whole life living like a scared little baby, or do you want to try something that’s actually worthwhile?”
I stood there, baffled, with no idea what to say.
The crazy man had a point. I bit my lip, debating. Could I actually attempt something like this?
“Come on, babe,” he cajoled me sweetly. “Stop living in your sister’s shadow. Try something new for a change.”
I groaned, and knew I was caving to his pressure. He knew exactly what to say to push my buttons, which made me wonder why he was pushing my buttons in the first place. What was his angle?
I decided not to mull over his strange behavior. Instead, I pointed my finger at his chest. “I’ll do it. But if I die,” I said warningly, “this is on your hands. And I will come back to haunt you, Constantin.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second,” he replied, grinning.
I breathed heavily as Rex shoved me down the docks. The travelers greeted him, offering a bottle of beer from a nearby cooler. Guinness, of course.
No one waited for me to prepare myself. Two of the wakeboarders buckled me into a life jacket and placed the handle into my unsteady fingers.
This was happening much too quickly.
I looked back at Rex, fear protruding from my wide eyes. He gave me a little salute, as if to say that everything would be okay.
“Okay, lass,” said one of the Irish men. “You’re gonna have to keep your body facin’ the boat. And whatever you do, don’t let go of the rope. You’ll fall for sure, understand?”
I nodded. Wait, what did he just say? I wondered. That I would fall for sure?
Oh. Dear. God.
“When you start, you have to make sure to keep your ankles held close, with your knees close to your chest, like this.”
I dazedly watched as he demonstrated it for me.
“The closer you are to the board, the easier your start will be,” he said. “When you’re out into the water, push your chest up first, then stand, keeping most of your weight to the back foot. Understand?” He waited expectantly.
I nodded again, realizing that I had no idea what I was doing.
“Good.”
The man picked me up like I was a rag doll and tossed me into the lake. Ice cold water stabbed like pins and needles as I flapped my arms, floundering to find my way back to the surface. I gasped as I brought my head out of the water, my teeth chattering against the cold.
Before I had a chance to get my bearing, a wakeboard was tossed to me and someone started the boat. The crazy Irish people were clearly impatient.
The boat’s engine rumbled. I quickly leveled the board beneath my feet. It moved in place just in time.
The boat moved forward, pulling at the rope. I held on tightly, as if I were holding on for dear life. The board slowly lifted out of the water and I pushed my chest up accordingly.
It took me a few tries, but when I finally got to my feet and saw the water rippling on both sides of me, I was amazed. I’d actually stood up. I hadn’t been sure I’d get to th
is part without falling. I was gliding over the lake. Incredible.
The hardest part was keeping hold of the handlebars. As the boat increased its speed, it got more and more difficult to hold on. And let’s face it, I was a runner. There was no strength in my upper body whatsoever.
Somehow though, I was managing it. The feeling was exhilarating. Water misted over my face and my hair flailed in the wind. I grinned, enjoying every moment. Something about this feeling was so freeing, so thrilling.
The boat took a sharp turn. I lost my grip.
I nosedived into the water. The force of the fall knocked me into something sharp. It sliced my knee open like a razor. A gurgled sound of pain bubbled from my lips from beneath the water.
I emerged from the icy water, gasping again. I immediately looked for the nearest bank I could swim towards. In the distance, I saw Rex running along the dock, then taking a steep dive into the water.
He was swimming towards me.
I tried to call out to him, to tell him I was fine, but he couldn’t hear me. Honestly, I wasn’t all that sure that I was fine anyway. When I tried to move my leg to swim, I felt a stinging sensation in my knee. I winced at the pain.
I tried pushing through the water with only my arms, but Rex caught up to me before I could make it anywhere near the bank. He came up for air about a foot from me, water dripping down his face and his dark hair plastered to his forehead. He was breathing heavily from the long swim.
“Spence,” he breathed. “You scared the hell out of me.”
I was a little taken aback, noticing the fear in his expression.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“For the most part,” I said. “But I think I hurt my knee.”
“Can you move it?” he asked me.
“Yeah, but it hurts.”
His arms encircled my waist beneath the water. His pulled me against him tightly. “I c-can swim,” I protested, my teeth chattering from the cold. “I can u-use my arms.”
“Shut up,” he ordered me. “I got this.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, “Y-you’re being s-sort of a bully.”
“Put your arm around my shoulder.”
“See. Y-you’re bossing me around a-again.” I placed my arm around his shoulder, grateful for the warmth the contact of his body provided.
Rex swam me back to shore, regretfully apologizing along the way. “I’m sorry I made you do this.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked him. “That was some of the m-most fun I’ve ever had. At least up until the p-point where I fell off.”
“You’re being serious?” he asked doubtfully.
“I’m completely serious, Rex. So thanks for making me do it. It was t-totally worth it.”
He looked me in the eye, as if he were discerning whether or not I was being honest with him. Satisfied to see I was telling the truth, he said, “You’re welcome.”
I sat on the bathroom counter, both of my legs dangling around Rex’s midsection. The moment felt way too intimate, leaving me slightly breathless around him, as usual, but the tight confines of the space left me no other option.
“Ouch!” I hissed after he dabbed at my cut with a cotton swab.
He looked up at me, flicking damp bangs out of his eyes. “You’re being a baby,” he admonished. “It’s just peroxide. It’s not like I’m stitching you up or anything.”
Thankfully, the wound hadn’t gone deep enough for stitches. Instead it left my entire left knee scraped, bloody and bruised. Rex said a jagged rock likely caused the damage.
“But it stings,” I said, hearing an unmistakable whine in my voice.
“If you’d just let me finish, the whole process would be over and done with.”
He was right, of course. I was acting like a child. But I didn’t care. It hurt.
I inhaled a few times before shutting my eyes tightly. “Okay,” I allowed. “Just do it. Pour it all on at once.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Just get it over with.”
I braced myself on Rex’s arm, trying not to freak out.
A searing burst of liquid poured over my knee. My skin felt like it was on fire, it stung so badly. I gritted my teeth, digging my fingernails into Rex’s arm. His muscles flexed in response, but he didn’t say anything and he didn’t pull away.
Instead he bent down, until he was level with my knee, and lightly blew on the area. My skin cooled from the combination of his breath and the liquid peroxide.
Breathe, Essie, I reminded myself. It was just Rex, after all, helping me out with my scrape.
But something about the moment turned sensual.
Heat rushed to my face. I opened my eyes and stole a quick glance in the mirror, hoping my skin was tanned enough to hide how I flushed I felt. It wasn’t.
He wasn’t blowing on my skin anymore. He looked at me and he just seemed to know how I was feeling.
He stood up slowly, moving closer. He was still bare-chested from his dive into the lake.
“What is this?” I asked, pointing to the tribal tattoo on his arm. I would’ve said anything to abate the tension.
His voice was low, laced with some emotion I couldn’t name. “It’s the crest of the original Constantin family. My brothers and I mark ourselves with it every lifetime.”
His body swayed closer.
“That’s. . .interesting.” It came out in a whisper. Rex’s face was directly in front of my face. His lips were only an inch away from my lips.
“Estelle,” he breathed, pleadingly. It dimly occurred to me that it was the first time he’d ever used my first name.
I held my unsteady breath again. “Yes?”
Was this going where I think it was going?
The sound of the RV’s front door rattled open, startling us both.
Rex moved away from me instantly. “We need to bandage you up,” he said, getting back to work. His voice was calmer, more composed. He removed some gauze and ointment from the first aid kit.
I fell back against the mirror, sighing. I think maybe I was relieved. For a moment, I thought Rex was going to kiss me.
No, don’t lie to yourself. You were disappointed.
Eleven
Zetta was everything I imagined a gypsy to be. She wore a bright purple turban, long colorful robes and wide gold hoop earrings. Her eyes were deep set, dark and all too knowing. She wrapped her wrinkled hands around my face, holding my cheeks and searching my eyes.
I’d never felt so exposed in my entire life. It was almost as if she could see straight through to my soul.
“You’ve always had wondrous, innocent eyes, child,” she finally said, taking a seat next to me. She grunted as she lowered herself onto the pillow. “They are pure, no evil attached to them.” Her thick accent, full of long vowels turned evil into eeeevhil.
We all sat around a fire, pillows and blankets spread around the dancing flames. That was something I was beginning to learn about gypsies: they seemed to prefer sitting on pillows rather than in chairs, and to be outside rather than in.
Lola held Gabe’s hand as she listened quietly to what Zetta had to say. Her sapphire eyes burned to seek answers. I could tell she hoped her aunt would bring us some sort of guidance, tell us where we go from here. She’d told me earlier that Zetta could see things in ways no one else could. She was more powerful than most gypsies. Zetta was also incredibly wise, having lived a countless number of lives. I hoped Lola’s faith in her aunt proved itself tonight. I desperately wanted to understand why I was like this.
What I didn’t expect to find in Zetta was this sense of familiarity in her presence. It was overwhelming, the feeling was so strong.
“I know you,” I said hesitantly. “We’ve met before.”
Zetta nodded, casting a wary look towards Lola.
“I see my niece hasn’t yet told you how you ended up in a gaje’s life.”
“No. She hasn’t.” I turned towards Lola, who suddenly couldn’t manage to look me in the
eye. What was she keeping from me? I wondered.
“Lola and I were the only people who found out what you were capable of,” Zetta explained, recapturing my attention. “We casted a spell, many lives ago. You, to forget who you are. And she, to forget what happened to you. The spell was meant to keep you hidden.”
“I was against it,” Lola said, her voice sounding very small. “You begged us though.”
“Why?” I asked, wondering how things could’ve gotten bad enough to make me want to forget all of them-to make me want to forget myself.
“Because you weren’t the only one at risk. Everyone you’d ever known, loved and cared about was just a means to get to you, to get to the oracle.”
I nodded, understanding.
So I’d done this then, I thought, contemplating. I’d wanted to forget. At least I was smart enough to keep the people I cared about safe.
“You never told us anything,” Lola continued. “You were afraid it could be used against us.”
“And your efforts to hide me were wasted.” I sighed.
She paused, then said, “Gypsies see things in ways normal people can’t. When I look at you, I’m not just seeing a young girl with big eyes and silky brown hair. I see your presence; I feel it. It’s like an aura that surrounds you. We remember people that way.
“When my memories came back, I remembered who you were, your persona, basically everything that makes you, you. That’s why the mind readers know who you are now. That’s why they can track you. They’re using my thoughts and descriptions.”
“What about Zetta?” I asked. “Why couldn’t they track me through her?”
“Zetta is powerful enough to keep her mind hidden, in the same way that Rex can. Unfortunately, I can’t. I had to forget you completely.”
“You must’ve sacrificed so much,” I said to both of them, watching the flames create shadows over their somber faces.
“It doesn’t compare to your sacrifice,” Lola whispered. “You gave up your whole world.”
Her words were cryptic. I had a feeling Lola’s meaning for sacrifice went much deeper than how she’d said it. I started to ask her about it, but Zetta interrupted me. “What we accomplished in the past doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “Let me see your palm, Estelle. I think it’s time to find some answers.”