Grey (The Romany Outcasts Series, Book 1)

by Christi J. Whitney

  Fair is foul, and foul is fair. The line from Macbeth ran through my head as I watched the mist slither closer, leaving a translucent trail. Hover through the fog and filthy air.

  The air seemed to whisper jumbled sounds; like many voices speaking to me at once…none distinguishable or pleasant. My blood dropped to subzero levels. I could feel my heart crashing against my ribcage. I remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. The mist continued to roll towards me, gaining in breadth until it stretched the width of the alley.

  The door to the shop seemed a hundred miles away.

  The smoke rose and hovered above me like a storm cloud. I could feel energy swirling inside it; a presence; alive and vibrant, propelling it downward. It drifted against my skin, cold and warm. I crouched, digging my shoes into the mucky ground, ready to make a run for the door. Then a strange female voice whispered in my ear.

  We’ve found you…

  I shot forward, propelling myself across the alley. But I didn’t get far. A gust of wind slammed into me like a freight train. The impact ripped the air from my lungs. I ricocheted off the dumpster and skidded, face first, across the dirt. Gravel sliced my palms, tore at my knees. My head rattled. Darkness invaded my vision. I felt my body trying to stand, to right itself, but I was losing consciousness. Something registered through the fog: a door banging open. I choked, gasping for oxygen as I crumpled to the ground.

  I wasn’t sure how long I lay in the slosh and grime of the alley. I heard the scratching of an animal in the dumpster and the buzzing of the streetlight. But time itself passed out of reach and beyond my comprehension.

  Then, arms were around me, lifting me from the ground. Vincent’s hard, lean face was close to mine, his dark eyes worried. I could smell his sweat and the hint of teriyaki on his breath.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ He sounded scared. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘S-something…’, my throat felt coated with sand, ‘…attacked me.’

  ‘Attacked you?’ Vincent released me and jogged a few paces down the alley. His head twisted back and forth as he examined the road. Or, at least, that’s how it seemed. His form was blurry. I wiped my eyes with the edge of my sleeve. He returned and knelt beside me. ‘Are you sure, Sebastian? There’s no one out here.’

  ‘It was…’ The words didn’t make it past my teeth. The wind? I glanced at the scraggly pine branches swaying in the breeze. Then I noted the slimy tracks I’d left across the ground. Had I slipped, lost my balance in the mud? I looked at Vincent through narrowed eyes. ‘What are you doing out here?’

  ‘Looking for you,’ he replied. He didn’t meet my gaze; he was staring somewhat awkwardly at my hair. I brushed it out of my face as he continued. ‘You’ve been gone almost half an hour.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Come on,’ he said quickly, ‘let’s get you inside.’

  He helped me to my feet. My palms itched and my right temple throbbed, but the rest of me seemed to be in working order. My lungs felt clear, and there was no trace of the mist anywhere in the alley. I glanced dubiously over my shoulder. Had I imagined it? Already, the details of what just happened felt fuzzy in my head. We entered the shop, and Kris glanced up from the counter. His eyes widened as he looked at me.

  ‘Um, your hair’s gray.’

  I stared at him. ‘What?’

  Vincent grabbed a mirror from the counter. I flipped it over and met my reflection. And I couldn’t believe what I saw. Kris was right. My hair was gray, but not the whitish gray of the elderly. It was a vibrant shade of pewter.

  Only a few strands of my normally black hair remained. I tentatively brushed my fingers through it. My hair felt the same. But the shade was something out of the paint department at the hardware store. I’d heard of people’s hair changing color due to fright or trauma, but nothing like this.

  ‘Okay, what’s going on?’ I peeled my gaze from the mirror. ‘Is this another weird Gypsy tradition? First tattoos, then hair dye? Did my brother put you up to this?’

  Vincent didn’t blink. ‘You’ll have to ask him.’

  As if on cue, the front door banged open. Hugo stomped through, ushering a gust of wind. ‘Did you guys see the fog?’ he said, shedding his jacket. ‘It looks like we’re going to…’ He caught sight of me, instantly registering my new hair color. But he didn’t seem surprised. His face hardened for a moment, then relaxed into an expression I couldn’t totally place.

  Almost like satisfaction.

  ‘Your hair’s gray,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, we just covered that,’ I replied.

  ‘Looks good on you.’ Hugo brushed passed me and chucked his jacket on the counter. ‘Hey, Vincent, can you grab that book for me? I’ve got some research to do on a Gothic tat for a customer.’ Vincent hauled a large leather-bound book from the shelf behind the counter and handed it to my brother.

  ‘Hold up,’ I said, tossing the mirror aside, ‘is this gray hair part of some kind of initiation thing? I thought you already said I was in the club.’

  ‘It’s not a club,’ Hugo replied. ‘We’re a clan. And no, having gray hair doesn’t make you Roma.’

  ‘Then it has to do with my being your apprentice, doesn’t it? Your form of tattoo artist hazing.’ I paused, thinking. My scalp had only started itching after my shower earlier that evening. My gaze cut to Vincent and back to my brother. ‘You put something in my shampoo, didn’t you?’ Hugo had never really been the prankster type, but the other guys were always pulling something on each other. ‘Trying to get me to change my mind?’

  Hugo cracked open the book and flipped through the pages. ‘Hmm…’

  I smirked darkly and crossed my arms. My brother was stubborn.

  But so was I.

  ‘Well, it’s going to take a lot more than flowery tattoos and hair dye or tossing me around the alley to get me to back down.’

  Hugo glanced up with a sharp look. ‘Tossing you around?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘One of you guys was out by the dumpster, trying to freak me out.’ Everyone just looked at me. I let my gaze circle the group, studying their blank faces. ‘Okay, then,’ I continued, allowing my smirk to lengthen into a casual smile, ‘if that’s the way you want to play, bring it on. You’re going to apprentice me this time, Hugo. Nothing’s going to stop me from doing what I want with my life.’

  For a split second, Hugo seemed to freeze. As he studied me, another expression flickered across his face. Conflicted, maybe even uncertain. But then, the blinds were closed again, and it was gone. Hugo tucked the book under his arm. ‘Well, I’ve got to get these sketches done. I’ll see you guys later.’ He smiled at me. ‘As for you, Mr Apprentice, you’d better get yourself cleaned up and grab a mop. You’ve tracked mud all through the shop.’

  6. Sighted or Blind

  ‘Mr Grey, please remove your hood.’

  I glanced up from my math problems. ‘Sir?’

  Mr Weir stood over me, obviously irritated. ‘Your hood, Mr Grey,’ he said, pointing to a laminated list of rules on the wall. ‘No hats or coverings in the classroom.’

  I looked around self-consciously. Everyone was in a typical Monday morning stupor, working drearily at their desks. Only Avery stole a glance at me over the edge of his textbook. I sighed and reached up, pushing back my jacket hood. Avery made a weird choking sound.

  Alex Graham turned around in his seat directly in front of me. He looked me over in his typical ‘everyone on the planet is beneath me’ way and sneered through his nasty mountain-man beard. ‘Nice.’

  My chest grew warm underneath my jacket at his insult. I didn’t need any more negative attention from Alex. He singled me out for ridicule enough on a daily basis as it was. I hunched in my seat and narrowed my eyes back at him, feeling the heat churning into irritated anger. I clenched my teeth, determined to keep my stupid, newfound emotions under control. No freak outs, Sebastian.

  Mr Weir cleared his throat disparagingly, and continued moving down the row, che
cking students’ work. Alex snickered and turned back to his graffiti effort on the desk with his pen. As soon as the coast was clear, Avery leaned across the aisle and poked me with his pencil. He aimed his eraser at my hair, silently indicating the obvious question.

  ‘Just trying something new,’ I whispered.

  No one needed to know that I’d tried to dye my hair back to its original shade all weekend, but with no success. I’d rinse out the solution, only to find the same slate gray color mocking me in the mirror. I didn’t know what Hugo and the guys had used on me or how long it would last. But for now, it appeared my new hair was permanent.

  In the parking lot after school, we made our plans for the evening. Or rather, everyone else made the plans while I stood in the back of the group, adjusting the hood of my jacket and tugging it as low as possible. I’d been slammed with comments about my hair all day. Katie had given me several disapproving looks, and Emma had even threatened to stop by later and ‘repair the damage’.

  ‘Hey, I saw Erica on my way out,’ Mitchell said as he leaned against his car. ‘She said Ms Lucian’s going to post the cast list for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at six tonight.’

  ‘Finally,’ said Katie. ‘I’ve been freaking out all weekend.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll get a part,’ said Emma, from under Brandon’s arm. He had her pinned against his car door and was proceeding to suck on her ear. ‘I can’t wait to see who got cast.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Mitchell, ignoring them. ‘I vote we meet here, check out the list, and then head to Josephine’s party at the Fairgrounds. Is that cool with everybody?’

  Josephine’s party.

  I’d forgotten all about it.

  ‘Works for me.’ Katie retrieved her keys from her purse. ‘Somebody text me as soon as you see the cast and let me know. I made the mistake of volunteering to help with the party, and now Josie’s made me her slave for the next few hours.’

  Avery winked. ‘Remember, you promised you’d get Josephine to introduce me to some of those hot Circe performers.’

  Katie wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’

  She got in her car and drove off. The rest of our group exchanged goodbyes and quickly dispersed. Avery pointed at me over the hood of his Jeep.

  ‘You’re still coming, right?’ he asked, opening the door.

  I hesitated. I wasn’t the party type, but I’d told Josephine I’d be there. And I couldn’t pass up the chance to prove that I wasn’t a complete bumbling freak. The gray hair wouldn’t earn me any points, but at least maybe I could talk to her this time and not come off as a total idiot. ‘Yeah, I’m coming.’

  I pulled out of the parking lot right behind Avery, and I was halfway home before an unsettling thought struck me. I didn’t have a birthday present for Josephine.

  ‘I can’t show up without something,’ I groaned aloud.

  My rumbling van seemed to agree, so I turned around and headed back into town. Sixes was filled with dozens of shops, and I decided to try my luck in the historic district. Maybe I could find something unique there. Josephine just didn’t seem like the card and candy type. I chose a promising street and eased the van into a parking slot near a line of antique stores.

  The first shop was called Antiquities and Such. I opened the bright pink door and ventured inside. Strands of Christmas lights framed the shelves and piano music drifted from a pair of frayed speakers. The smell of old things tickled my nose. An elderly lady looked up from her magazine and smiled somewhat warily at me.

  ‘Can I help you, young man?’

  I smiled back. ‘I’m just looking, thank you.’

  She nodded and returned to her magazine, and I ducked into the first aisle. Row after row of delicate collectibles taunted me. The sight was discouraging. What would Josephine like? I’d barely talked to her; if one could count a few awkward sentences as actual conversation. I should have asked Katie’s advice, but it was too late now.

  I checked my phone. It was already 5:30 p.m.. I was running out of time, and I wasn’t going to find anything here. I spun around, fumbling for my keys, and dropped my phone in the process. It clanked against the glass shelving. As I knelt to pick it up, I noticed the bottom shelf was empty, save for one object: a porcelain figure.

  She was dressed in a patterned skirt and peasant top, painted bright orange and yellow. The artist had captured her in the middle of a dance, with her arms extended, her back arched, and her hair billowing. Lifelike green eyes stared back at me, holding my gaze so intently that I could have sworn she was real. I leaned in closer; captivated.

  A Gypsy figurine that resembled Josephine Romany. Romany. I could almost hear the wheels clicking together in my head. Could it be that the traveling circus was made up of Gypsies, too? Is that why Hugo had abruptly cut me off when I mentioned their arrival? Was there still more my brother wasn’t telling me?

  ‘Young man, can I get that for you?’

  I toppled backwards off my heels, narrowly missing the breakables on the shelf behind me. I blinked up at the wrinkled face. ‘It’s her,’ I murmured.

  The woman looked at me as if I’d escaped from a mental institution. ‘Well, I’m glad you like it. I’ll package it up for you.’

  She took the figurine and hobbled to the counter. She rolled the porcelain girl in crinkled paper and bundled it into a bag.

  ‘That will be fifteen dollars.’

  I scrounged up enough bills to pay for the gift. Back inside my van, I placed the bag on the passenger seat and stared at it, feeling a little hazy. Was I cursed with seeing Josephine in every dancing image for the rest of my life? I forced my gaze away from the gift and glanced in the rearview mirror instead.

  I shoved back my hood and raked my fingers through my hair as if I could somehow brush out the pewter sheen. But nothing changed. I had to hand it to the guys. They were taking this initiation pretty seriously. I gave my head a fierce shake, yanked on my hood, and drove back to Sixes High School.

  I’d given little thought to the cast list until I arrived. I just wanted to look at the sheet, congratulate those who had gotten roles, and commence with the most difficult part of my day: Josephine’s party.

  ‘Okay, Sebastian,’ I said, ‘let’s get this over with.’

  A crowd had gathered to see the audition results, and I eased closer to the posted sheet, trying not to draw attention. The first thing I noticed was all the leads. Josephine was Titania, Queen of the Fairies. She would be perfect. Brandon had snagged Lysander, and Emma was Hermia. I doubted their love scenes would take much effort. Avery won the part of Oberon, and I was proud that Katie had been assigned the role of Hippolyta. Of course, I would have to give her some good ribbing over that name.

  And then I saw the unexpected: my own name. I looked away and back. Sure enough, there it was, right next to the character of Nick Bottom, the weaver. I cringed, knowing exactly what was in store for me.

  As if on cue, Mitchell’s mischievous face came into view. ‘Hey Sebastian, isn’t Nick Bottom the guy who gets turned into an ass?’

  Avery shoved Mitchell while the rest of the group laughed.

  The ass. I sighed deeply. Perfect.

  7. Fire and Ice

  My van protested as I hit every pothole on Fairground Drive. But none of my passengers seemed to care. They were too busy discussing the cast list. I’d volunteered to drive – not because my van held the most people – but because it provided some distraction. And not from the incessant joking about my role in the play, either; I was used to Mitchell and his junior high level pranks. They didn’t faze me.

  But attending Josephine’s party was a different story.

  ‘Look, guys,’ Emma squealed, nearly jabbing me in the eye as she pointed over my shoulder from the back seat. ‘We’re here!’

  ‘Way to state the obvious,’ said Brandon, pulling her back into his lap with a laugh.

  She poked out her bottom lip. ‘Not funny.’

  He leaned in for a kiss,
and I shifted the rearview mirror so that I didn’t have to witness any more of the public displays of affection that pretty much summed up their relationship. But Avery craned his neck around from the passenger seat and made gagging noises.

  The Fairgrounds was a twenty-acre expanse designed for recreational activities, just outside town. As I pulled through the gates, evidence of the Circe de Romany was everywhere. An enormous tent loomed overhead, covered with lush red and gold stripes. Bright pavilions and booths, in similar colors and trimmed with green, lined the perimeter of the grounds. Katie met us in the parking lot, flushed and beaming like a blast of sunshine.

  ‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Katie was at my elbow as we piled out of the van.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said, ‘I mean, if you’re into this sort of thing.’

  She grabbed the edge of my jacket and yanked me down to her level. ‘Listen to me, you social invert, you’re going to have fun tonight.’ Her blue eyes narrowed playfully. ‘Understood?’

  My lip twitched into a grin. ‘Does fun include hovering dangerously close to the exit door, looking for the most opportune moment for escape?’

  ‘You’re impossible.’

  She tried to hit me, but I dodged out of the way with a laugh.

  Avery jogged up. ‘This is awesome!’

  ‘I know,’ Katie replied. ‘And Josie said the Circe’s added some new acts and expanded the carnival since their last visit.’

  Avery looked as if he was in heaven. ‘More games and rides?’

  Katie bounced on her toes. ‘Yep. And I hear the new shows are going to be really cool.’

  I locked up the van, noting the numerous cars in the lot. Josephine had apparently wasted no time making friends. Just as I stuffed my keys into my pocket, a stocky young man strolled through the fence. A broad smile flashed across his tanned features.