Before practice, I had asked her about gadjos and sixth sense, and she said a few had enhanced ones but had no idea how to use or control it. Although, a handful of gadjos had the rare gift of foreseeing a few glimpses of the future. Not the answer I wanted to hear, since that meant Annie was probably foreseeing my death.
However, during practice, Sheila didn’t give me a second free to worry about my future—or my past. At least it kept my mind busy and away from the recent upsetting events.
“Okay, let’s try something different,” Sheila said, gesturing for Cora to come closer. She had been standing beside Rye, Theron, and Ramon at the porch, observing the ongoing training. “Sit down before Mirella.”
With an easy smile, Cora sat down on the ground and crossed her legs.
“Mirella, try to enter Cora’s mind. Cora, shields up.”
Taking a long breath, I closed my eyes and sent my senses toward Cora’s mind. They bounced back after hitting a concrete-like wall. Shit, this was going to be hard. I pushed further, with every nerve of my tense body, and every inch of power I could find.
My senses became thin beams of power, and I sent them around Cora’s mind, searching for a soft spot. Around, around they went. And found nothing.
I shot my eyes open. “I can’t.”
“You’re not trying hard enough,” Sheila said in her cold instructor tone. “Again.”
Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
I was even weaker than I first believed, or Cora was too strong for someone like me. Or both.
“It’s impossible,” I snapped.
Sheila turned her expressionless eyes at me. “No, it isn’t.” She waved at the group watching us. “I need another volunteer.”
“I’ll go,” Theron said, jumping off the porch.
Cora stood, brushing the grass from her pants, and with his usual cocky grin, Theron took her place.
“What now?” He wiggled his eyebrows and I rolled my eyes.
“Same exercise,” Sheila said. “Mirella will try to enter your mind and you’ll fight back.”
“You’re telling them not to let me in,” I complained. “Of course I won’t break in.”
Sheila stared at me. “I’m telling them to do what they would when facing alchemists. To keep their shields up. And you, as a powerful tzigane, should be able to break in.”
“I’m not powerful,” I mumbled under my breath.
“You can enter the lion’s mind,” she reminded me.
“Because he lets me in.” I was an inch from losing my patience. “I’m not powerful,” I repeated louder this time.
“That remains to be seen,” Sheila said. “Now. Begin.”
With a groan, I closed my eyes and let my senses free. I guided them toward Theron and found a reinforced steel wall around his mind. If I couldn’t break through Cora’s, I wouldn’t be able to break through his.
But I tried. I tried because Sheila would cook me alive if I didn’t.
My senses went around and around Theron’s mind. Probing, prodding, poking. Searching. I was about to give up when I felt it. I found it. A tiny spot, hidden among other pillars and curtains of protection, soft enough for me to break in.
I urged my powers forward. Theron’s grunts disturbed my concentration and I lost the connection.
I shot my eyes open and found him glaring at me. “That’s not a nice spot,” he said, his voice tight. Damn, I had never seen him angry before, not outside a battle, and even during those he was always smiling and joking.
“It was the only one I found.”
Sheila narrowed her eyes at us. “Again.”
Not desiring Theron’s rage, I sent my senses hunting for another spot. Minutes—or hours, I didn’t really know—passed and I found only that same soft spot. Damn, I had to try this. He could forgive me later.
I pushed my power into it.
Theron pushed them back.
“Puri daj,” he interrupted, making me lose the connection again. “She’s getting in.”
Sheila looked down at her grandson. “But … your mind is one of the strongest I know.”
I lost my focus. “Say what?” I squeaked. “You sent me on a fool’s errand?”
She didn’t look sorry. “You have to learn. If you can’t do it against the strongest mind, then it won’t matter.”
I groaned.
“Again.”
“How about if Ramon does it now?” Theron’s chin pointed to his brother, who after hearing his name, raised his hands and walked into the house. “Chicken.”
“Come on, Theron,” Sheila insisted. “You’ll survive.”
After a few curses under his breath, Theron closed his eyes and let me proceed. This time, I went directly to that spot and pushed into it. He resisted at first, but then …
I went through.
Everything around me—or my mind—exploded. I saw many images, felt many things, but none of it was mine. It was like a fast film, flashes of moments, rushing before my eyes.
A beautiful young woman. Theron beside her, happiness filling his chest. Their hands pressed together before them. Older people hugging them tight and patting their backs. The image changed. The beautiful lady and Theron were dancing, and he was hopeful he would really love her, that they would be happy together. The image changed again. This time, they were arguing, but I couldn’t grasp exactly why. The next image showed me both of them pretending to be nice to each other around other people, other tzigane. The last image was of the beautiful woman lying on a burning vurdon, a crowd of tziganes watching, their eyes gleaming with tears. She was dead and Theron cried for her.
Then it all stopped and I was surrounded by complete darkness. What the hell had been all those images? Theron’s memories? Shit. Was that his fiancée?
Sheila’s words reached me. “Think of something, Mirella. A strong feeling. In Theron’s mind.”
Like what? Like the disappointment I felt over my mother and her lies, and the way she still lied to me? Like the scary thought of being tortured to death by alchemists? Like the sadness of being ignored by Ellie? Or like Phillip being out of town again?
“Whoa, calm down,” Theron said. “Too much. Only one feeling is fine.”
His walls grew tall around me and pushed me away.
My eyes fluttered open. I expected to see his cocky grin while he congratulated me for being able to do it, but Theron wasn’t looking at me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Sheila squeezed my shoulder. “Good, good.”
Theron shot up. “Can I go now, puri daj?”
She gave him one curt nod, and then she turned to me. “All right, enough for today.” Sheila offered her hand and helped me up. My eyes followed as Theron rushed inside the house. “I have something to show you.”
I snapped my attention back to her.
“What now? More tests?”
The harsh instructor mien was gone and a warm smile adorned her lips. “Just come.”
Holding my hand, Sheila guided me through the green lawn for a few hundred yards, until we were on top of another hill.
“There.” She pointed to a garden on the base of the hill.
I looked at her. “What’s there?”
“Come and see.”
As we went down the hill, I got a better look at the garden. It was enchanting. The lush green lawn stretched over to a small creek, one that disappeared under an outer stone wall. Flowers of red, yellow, white, pink, blue, orange, and every other color, were planted side by side, flanking peach-colored stone trails that whirled in and out of the lawn, ultimately leading to a grotto at the center.
Bright coral stones composed the three lower steps of the grotto, then the colors lightened gradually, rising with a podium until a beige tone culminated it. Coral stones formed a half-dome, and right in the center of the podium, the white statue of a saint stood tall, almost as tall as me
. Her face was peaceful, her smile encouraging, and her palms were pressed together like in a prayer.
I squinted at the Saint, sure I had seen her before.
“That’s Saint Sara-la-Kali,” Sheila said. “Our protector.”
Oh, I knew where I had seen her before.
I pulled the neckline of my blouse down a little, and reached to where my bra strap met the pad. I unhooked the safety pin from the inside of the bra and held the pendant up, showing it to Sheila.
“It’s the same saint,” I said, amused. Of course, I had noticed there was the engraving of a saint in the pendant, but I never bothered to find out which one.
Her eyes rounded as she reached for the pendant. “Where did you get this?”
“My mother gave it to me when I started wearing bras. I was ten. Maybe nine? I don’t remember. She said it was important I wear it all the time. The saint would protect me wherever I went.”
She turned the pendant in her hands. It was flat like a small coin, but thicker, and the saint was engraved in both sides. “This is pretty.” She returned it to me. “She’s right. Wear it always.”
“Because it’ll protect me?” I asked, trying not to laugh. How would a piece of metal protect me?
“Well, Saint Sara-la-Kali is our protector.” She paused. “But if not for that, at least wear it as a sign of good faith.”
21
My mother was making dinner when I arrived home that evening.
She didn’t even glance at me as I closed and locked the door, and made my way to the kitchen. I halted by the tall counter and sighed. With her lips pressed tight, she chopped onions with ease.
The warm scent of paprika and garlic reached my nose. “It smells nice.”
She took the cutting board to the range and pushed the chopped onion inside a pan with the knife. She returned to stand beside the sink and started chopping red and green peppers. And still she said nothing.
My skin itched with the urge to tell her I knew why she had been banished. To ask her more about my father. If he had really left us like she made me believe all these years, or if she left to protect him, to keep him away from alchemists.
But I already knew she wouldn’t answer. Whatever I asked, she wouldn’t answer. She would change subjects or pretend she didn’t know what I was talking about.
I sighed. “All right. Since it seems dinner will take a while and you won’t talk to me, I’ll take a shower.”
I started for my bedroom. I was by the door when she finally slammed the knife down and glared at me.
“I thought you were done with Bellville,” she said, her voice not hiding her disappointment, her frustration.
“Why?”
“You went to Lovell yesterday and, from what I heard, you had a great time there.”
Unbelievable. “Do you have spies in there or something? How can you know everything that happens there? I thought you were banished.”
She flinched. “I am banished, but … I’m trying to help them.”
“I don’t get it. Shouldn’t you be mad at them? Are you trying to get un-banished? Is that it?”
“No, no. I don’t care about that. I … I miss being part of an enclave, but I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. I’m trying to help them get through to you. You need to accept you’re a tzigane and accept Lovell as your enclave.”
I snorted. “You’re trying to help them get through to me. How, if not even you can? In fact, you don’t even try. You do a great job avoiding talking to me, telling me anything. You prefer just standing there, like a decorative vase in the corner, over talking to me, afraid I’ll ask things you don’t want to answer.”
Her eyes widened. What? She thought I hadn’t figured her out?
“I …” She closed her mouth again and sighed. Her shoulders sagged. She was giving up. Once more, she would just let it go. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” she muttered, turning to the kitchen.
I watched her for a minute. She moved around the kitchen, chopping, mixing, simmering, as if there was nothing wrong out there. As if there was nothing wrong in here. She was a coward, and right now, I was ashamed of her.
With a sigh, I went to my bedroom.
I had just taken off my blouse when the doorbell rang.
“What now?” I mumbled to myself, putting my blouse back on.
In the living room, I found my mother halfway to the door. “I’ll get it,” I said to her.
She halted, looking at me, considering. She probably realized she should check on her food before it burned, so she nodded and returned to the kitchen.
I opened the door.
Artan and Sloan stood on the other side, their expressions solemn and their right hands over the hilt of their swords. My eyes widened. I didn’t think I had seen them out before with their swords showing like that, only that night in the parking garage, but then they were ready for a fight.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, stepping back. Artan and Sloan entered my apartment, nodded to my mother, then turned to me. I closed the door. “You’re scaring me.”
“You … you should sit down,” Artan said, his rough voice low.
I crossed my arms. “I’m fine.”
Artan exchanged a brief glance with Sloan. Then he returned his eyes to me. “I believe this is yours?”
He pulled my green shawl from behind his back. The one I had been wearing yesterday when I went to their enclave.
“Yes.” I remembered taking it off because it got too hot while dancing inside the tents. I placed it over my chair … and then I didn’t remember picking it back up. “Oh no.” I took it from him and pressed it to my chest. “What happened?”
Averting his eyes, Artan shook his head.
Sloan cleared his throat. “Apparently, Stefano found it and wanted to bring it to you.”
“W-what?”
Artan lifted his eyes, his gaze hard on mine. “He left this morning to surprise you and alchemists found him.”
My knees wobbled. “No …” I looked from Artan to Sloan. “You saved him, right?”
Sloan shook his head. “We didn’t know where he had gone. We didn’t even know he had left until his mother expressed concern since he was gone for a few hours and he had never done that before. Not without letting someone know.”
Artan took a step toward me, his eyes burning. “Now tell me this is a coincidence. Tell me you have nothing to do with it.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. I couldn’t say that, not really.
I opened my mouth to tell the truth when the doorbell rang again.
My heart stopped. What now?
Without ceremony, Artan opened the door, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
His face blanching, Phillip stared at Artan, then me, then Sloan. His gaze dipped, to the swords on their waists.
“What do you want?” Artan barked.
“What’s going on?” Phillip asked, stepping forward.
Artan moved, taking up the entire door to stop Phillip from entering. “You should leave.”
“Not without speaking to Mirella.”
I stood beside Artan, pushing him away. “I’m here.”
Phillip took in my droopy eyes and my weak voice. “What happened?” He reached for me, but I stepped back. “Mirella?”
There was too much blood and danger around me. Layla, Serena and Amy, Ellie, and now Stefano. I couldn’t be near someone without putting them in danger. And I couldn’t do that to Phillip … to Annie. They deserved to be happy and carefree, and to never have to worry about being attacked by masked men.
They had to stay away from me.
Trying to find strength within me, I lifted my chin. “I’m … I’m sorry, Phillip, but I don’t want to go out with you anymore. I don’t want to see you anymore.” I clamped my lips shut before my voice broke and gave it away.
“But …” His eyes searched my face. “I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?” I shook my head. He turned hi
s enraged eyes to the wall standing right behind me. “It’s you, isn’t it? I saw you two talking the other day, and now here he’s again.” He looked at me. “Are you going out with him?”
“No, no,” I said lamely.
“Then what?” Phillip reached for me, and once more, I retreated from his touch. “Tell me what it is, Mirella, and I’ll fix it.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing to fix.”
“Then give me a good reason. Tell me why and make it good. Otherwise, I’ll repeat what I once said to you. I won’t give up that easily.”
Shit. We didn’t have time for that. He had to go. Now. He had to go back to Annie and keep her away from me. Oh shit … the dance studio. My college classes. I shook my head, focusing on the problem in front of me.
“Yes, you’re right,” I blurted out, clinging to the first idea that popped in my mind. I reached for Artan behind me and hooked my arm around his waist. “I’m going out with him.” Artan went rigid and Phillip’s eyes bulged. I took a deep breath, trying to keep it all in. “Artan is my boyfriend.”
“That’s right.” Artan wound his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. I felt my hips pressing into his hard legs, my shoulder buried into his packed chest. “She’s mine.”
As if I had punched him in the gut, Phillip took a step back, his eyes even wider than before, his face paler.
Oh my God, this hurt. I couldn’t take much more of this.
“I’m sorry,” I said, closing the door in his face.
A whimper ripped from my throat and I sagged.
“Hey, careful there.” Artan caught my arms before I could fall on the floor.
He dragged me to the couch, where he pushed me down. My mind was numb, and I barely acknowledged as I sat and my mother appeared beside me, a tea mug in her hands.
“Here,” she said. “It’s chamomile. It’ll make you feel better.”
I glanced at the tea. It would make me better? Did it have the answers I was looking for? Could it make me a gadjo? Could it bring back Stefano? Layla? Could it fix my friendship with Ellie? Could it erase the words I had just said to Phillip?
I placed the mug on the coffee table and uncoiled to my feet. “I need a minute.”
Heart Seeker (The Fire Heart Chronicles Book 1) Page 17