Grey (The Romany Outcasts Series, Book 1)

by Christi J. Whitney

  ‘Hey, you! Stay out of the wings!’

  I leapt back at the voice. The curtain ripped, fabric coming away in my fingernails.

  In my claws.

  I panicked, ducking my hands behind my back as the stage manager’s eyes bugged out of his head. He stared at the massively thick curtain. It looked as if someone had taken lawn shears and shredded it. While he gaped, I took the opportunity to make a hasty retreat to the empty dressing room. Once there, I frantically rubbed my hands together.

  ‘No, please. Not now. Not now.’

  I flexed my fingers, and closed my eyes, willing the disgusting claws to disappear. I had to get through this night. I had to prove to myself I could be normal and then I could prove to Hugo that he was wrong, and that it was all going to get better. After a few minutes – and several prayers – I looked at my hands. I had fingernails again. I sputtered in relief. It was my jittery nerves. I’d gotten too worked up, like the night in the shop. But the claws were gone now. I was okay.

  The door opened abruptly, and I was taken captive by the make-up crew, who were assigned the task of getting me into the donkey make-up I’d need for my next scene. Ten minutes later, I was waiting in the wings with my huge donkey ears and painted face.

  The time had come to make a literal ass of myself onstage. I shook my stiff limbs and flexed my muscles, determined to be the best Nick Bottom in all of amateur theater history. But as I opened my mouth to practice my opening line, a fragrance filled my nostrils, and sent me reeling in tortured pleasure.

  ‘I just wanted to say break a leg,’ said Josephine brightly. ‘You’re going to do great.’

  I grinned sheepishly, at a total loss for words. It was the first time we’d spoken, apart from running lines, since our rehearsal in her trailer. ‘You too. I mean, with the breaking of the leg.’

  Ms Lucian appeared out of the darkness, dressed in black. Her red-streaked hair was tucked behind a headset. ‘Are you two ready?’ she asked. I nodded, donkey ears flopping. Josephine laughed. I blushed. Ms Lucian pointed with her pencil. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to take that off,’ she said. ‘No jewelry onstage.’

  Josephine touched the ribbon at her neck, and the dandelion pendant sparkled under the blue work lights. I blinked hard against a rush of dizziness. Her fingers closed around the glass. ‘But I’ve had it on the whole time,’ she protested.

  ‘It was only just brought to my attention by the stage manager,’ said Ms Lucian. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll hold onto it for you.’

  The feverish sensation was back, smothering me with heat, making me woozy. My wrist throbbed to the beating of the blood in my veins. It seemed as though the closer I was to Josephine, the most lopsided I became. The drama teacher held her hand out expectantly for the necklace, but Josephine hesitated.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said.

  ‘And why is that?’ asked Ms Lucian.

  Josephine shrugged apologetically. ‘I know this sounds silly, but I promised someone that I wouldn’t.’

  Ms Lucian shifted her gaze to me. ‘Something wrong, Sebastian?’

  ‘No,’ I replied quickly.

  ‘Please, Ms Lucian,’ Josephine continued, ‘I’ll make sure it’s hidden under my costume.’

  To prove her point, she tucked the pendant inside the fabric of her gown. I felt instantly better, as if someone had mercifully turned the thermostat down a few degrees.

  ‘All right,’ Ms Lucian relented. ‘But keep it out of the stage lights. It casts a horrible reflection.’

  She gave us a parting nod and disappeared into the backstage abyss. My head swirled with another rush of heat, and I glanced over to see Josephine playing with the necklace once more, her graceful fingers running along the glass casing. The dandelion seemed to come alive under her touch.

  ‘You like to look at this, don’t you?’ Josephine asked suddenly. My eyes snapped wide as I met her gaze. ‘I’ve noticed you doing it a lot, whenever you’re looking at me.’

  The blood drained out of my face. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologize, Sebastian. I’m flattered, really.’

  I grasped for something that wouldn’t make me sound crazily obsessed. ‘It’s the Gypsy thing. I’ve got one, too. I mean, not a necklace, of course. The dandelion.’ Geez, I was rambling like an idiot. Impulsively, I pulled up my tunic sleeve and showed her. Other than Avery, no one had seen my artwork outside of the shop.

  Josephine reached out, as though she was going to touch the design, then pulled back. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, leaning in to examine the tattoo. My wrist ached, and my head went all fuzzy again. ‘The Romanys use dandelions in our family crest. We have them in the Circe logo, too.’

  ‘And then, there’s your pendant,’ I added. ‘You said it was a family heirloom, right?’

  She tucked the necklace inside her toga with one hand and tugged at a ringlet of hair with the other. ‘Quentin said it belonged to his grandmother, and he wanted me to have it.’ A stain of pink graced her cheeks and she looked away. ‘We’re sort of promised to each other. I know that sounds weird to gadje, and most outsiders don’t understand our ways.’

  I worked hard to produce a smile. ‘Well, I’m not gadje, remember?’

  Josephine smoothed a few wrinkles in her costume and played with the braided cord at her waist. ‘It’s not a law or anything, but it’s a tradition, and it’s expected…especially in my case.’ A strange look flickered over her face, and she continued at a rapid pace. ‘I mean, with my family. Anyway, Quentin and I practically grew up together. He’s a great guy, and I love him.’

  It was like falling face first into a snowdrift. I pressed harder against the wall to steady myself. The intensity of my reaction threw me. The only girl I’d ever felt something for was completely out of reach – that was bad enough – but my erratic emotions were getting out of control. What did this have to do with the stuff Hugo claimed I was going through? I shook myself off. Josephine was looking at me oddly, and I knew I had to say something.

  ‘Well…ah…break a leg.’

  Josephine’s brows shot up, and she laughed. ‘Thanks, Sebastian. You’re sweet. You’re the strangest person I think I’ve ever met, but you’re sweet.’

  At that moment, the stage manager materialized, tapping his foot impatiently. ‘It’s your cue, Titania.’

  ‘See you on stage,’ she said to me. Then she turned on her heel and followed the stage manager around the curtain.

  I stood there, shaking from head to toe. Fifteen minutes before, I’d been ready for our scene. Now, I wasn’t sure I would survive it. The music faded, and the lights dimmed on our Athenian woodlands. On the other side of the stage, Josephine emerged, taking her place on Titania’s fairy bed. She closed her eyes in pretend sleep, and the stage manager signaled my cue. I adjusted my donkey ears, mustering my courage.

  And stepped out into the light.

  ‘O monstrous! O strange!’ shouted Quince, pointing at me. ‘We are haunted!’

  The other actors yelled, running away in feigned terror. The audience laughed.

  ‘I see their knavery,’ I recited, faithfully. ‘This is to make an ass out of me, if they could, but I will not stir from this place, do what they can. I will walk up and down here, and I will sing that they will hear I am not afraid.’

  There was a rustle in the air as Josephine moved behind me. Her touch was soft against my shoulder. I’d never felt so drawn to anyone or anything in my entire life. It was more than attraction or longing.

  It was like being home.

  ‘Out of this wood do not desire to go,’ she purred into my donkey ear. ‘Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.’

  Josephine led me to Titania’s fairy bed, but I may as well have been on a trip to my own coffin. I was twisted up inside; a packaged deal of stage fright and embarrassment, with the added torture of being so near Josephine that I could see the pulse beating in her neck. I sprawled out among the flowers as a dozen glitteri
ng fairies surrounded me. Josephine hovered closer.

  Her fingers played along my arm while fairy girls danced around me. I was going complete cartoon-character goofy, and I knew that if I didn’t pull myself together, I was going to ruin the scene. I stared over the audience, focusing on the wall and trying to keep my composure, as Josephine swooned. Then, without warning, movement in the back of the house caught my attention.

  Three cloaked figures glided through the doors. They moved with a heavy – though graceful – gait, taking up positions against the wall. The strange visitors from Hugo’s shop. Tendrils of mist floated above them like cigarette smoke, barely visible in the darkened auditorium. Then I felt it – that uncomfortable coldness in my gut – like a warning beacon. Everything around me faded, including Josephine. All I could see were the figures.

  ‘Sebastian, it’s your line!’

  I met the gaze of a panicked fairy. My line? I had a line? My mind was blank, and I could only stare dumbly back at her.

  ‘Sebastian?’

  My eyes darted to Josephine. That weird place inside me ignited, snapping something to life: an uncontrollable instinct. A desire to protect. It was so strong that I bolted to my feet. The figures hovered near the aisle. My lip curled, and I stepped in front of Josephine. Red haze filtered through my vision as a growl rumbled deep in my chest. I forgot about my lines, the play, and everyone else. All that mattered was protecting Josephine.

  ‘Sebastian, please…’

  Her soft voice cut the haze. Her eyes were wide and pleading. Slowly I became aware of the awkward tension, both on the stage and in the audience.

  And I was the cause.

  The stage manager’s face jutted through the curtain. ‘Finish the scene!’ he whispered frantically.

  Finish the scene.

  Finish the scene.

  Finish the scene.

  Everything shattered into clarity as my senses rushed back. Every eye was on me, everyone waiting for me to continue. Josephine touched my arm. I took a deep breath and looked to the back of the house.

  The figures were gone.

  I quarantined myself in the dressing room, scrubbing off the remains of my make-up. The play had recovered from my freak-out and continued without a hitch, and the audience rewarded our efforts with a standing ovation.

  After patting my face with a towel, I studied myself in the mirror, dismayed. My skin was ashen, my eyes strangely bright above the darkened circles. I could ignore Hugo’s words about guardians and brands all I wanted, but it didn’t matter.

  I was changing.

  The rest of the cast had cleared out by the time I left the dressing room, but I huddled deeper into my hooded jacket anyway. I didn’t want to see anyone after the evening’s fiasco. Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to get that lucky. As I rounded the corner, there was Josephine, her back to me, talking on her cell. She’d changed into her street clothes, but her hair was still in its Grecian ringlets, the green ribbons fluttering as she moved.

  ‘No, Quentin,’ she was saying. ‘I already made plans. I know you’re looking out for me, but I’ll be fine.’ She listened for a moment then sighed loudly. ‘All right.’ There was disappointment in her voice. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’

  She ended the call and rammed her phone into her bag. I’d never seen her flustered or irritated before. Butterflies skittered in my stomach, and I knew I needed to just turn and walk away. But I couldn’t master the strong compulsion to stay near her.

  ‘Hey, Josephine,’ I said with some hesitation. She gasped in surprise and whirled around, dropping her bag. I flushed and knelt down to pick it up.

  ‘Hey, Sebastian,’ she said, taking the bag from my limp fingers. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I’m really sorry about tonight,’ I said.

  Her smile was polite but unengaged. ‘Don’t worry about it. Stage fright happens to everybody.’

  I studied her face from the safety of my hood. Her thoughts were clearly somewhere else. ‘Are you okay?’ I ventured, hoping she wouldn’t think I’d been eavesdropping on her phone call.

  She looked at me a moment without speaking. Silence fell between us; not uncomfortable, but electrically charged. I took an uncertain breath, waiting.

  ‘Sebastian, could you drive me home?’ she asked suddenly. ‘That is, unless you’re planning on going to the cast party. I didn’t think you would, you know, since you’ve been so distant the last couple of weeks…’ She trailed off, and the same faint blush returned to her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.’

  She was right, of course. I had been distant and I wasn’t going to the party. The remainder of my Friday evening plans consisted of picking up fast food and locking myself in my bedroom. That was, until now.

  ‘I’d love to,’ I said.

  Josephine seemed relieved. ‘I’ll get my things and meet you out front, okay?’

  I nodded, dazed at my stroke of good luck. ‘Okay.’

  Josephine took off down the hall. My heart went into palpitations, slamming crazily against my ribcage.

  ‘Hey, Sebastian!’

  Katie was jogging towards me, and I met her halfway. I hoisted her up, swinging her in a wide circle. She shrieked and wriggled in my grasp until I released her.

  ‘You were great tonight, Katie.’

  She stared at me as if I was crazy. ‘Wow, what happened to you?’

  I grinned guiltily. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Totally not complaining,’ Katie laughed. ‘It’s good to see you acting almost normal again. What’s the cause of this good mood of yours?’

  ‘I’m driving Josephine home tonight.’

  Katie raised an eyebrow. ‘How’d you swing that one?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘You realize she’s with Quentin, right? They’re like, practically engaged.’

  Leave it to Katie to state the obvious.

  ‘I know that.’ What I didn’t know was what to make of my feelings. I did know I was supposed to be close to Josephine, but there was no way I could explain that to Katie. ‘Since I’m not going to the cast party, I suppose that made me the obvious choice.’

  ‘Oh.’ Katie frowned. ‘I thought you meant after the party. I can’t believe Josie’s not going. Guess she’s too busy, what with the Circe opening soon. But I really wish you would go, Sebastian.’ Her blue eyes darkened with concern. ‘You need to get out more.’

  ‘We’ll hang soon,’ I replied, reaching for her hand. I’d missed Katie’s friendship the last few weeks more than I could tell her. But I had too much to sort out, too many questions without answers. ‘I promise.’

  Her face relaxed and she gave my hand a squeeze. ‘I’m holding you to that, you social invert. Now, I’ve got to get going. I told Mitchell I’d ride with him.’

  Katie sprinted off, and I hurried down the stage steps. A few people still loitered in the aisles. I studied the back doors. Had the mysterious figures been real or just a hallucination? Reality was getting difficult to decipher these days.

  Josephine met me in the lobby. We climbed into my van and made our way through town. We rode in silence for a while, which suited me fine. Just being with her felt right and nothing else really seemed to matter.

  The quiet was broken with a single word.

  ‘So.’

  Josephine leaned against the door, her body turned in my direction. The glittery remains of her fairy make-up made her eyes sparkle like emeralds.

  ‘So,’ I replied.

  She tucked a green ribbon behind her ear. ‘We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk much lately.’

  ‘I know,’ I said guiltily. I’d wanted nothing more than to talk to Josephine, but I didn’t trust my social skills anymore. ‘And it’s totally my fault. Hugo’s kept me really busy at the shop.’

  ‘Have you worked in the tattoo shop a long time?’

  I nodded, thankful for the question. It was always easy to talk about the Gypsy Ink. ‘Yes. Well, since Hugo took me in. I’m hoping he’ll l
et me work there, after graduation. He finally agreed to apprentice me and teach me the trade.’

  ‘Sounds like a career that suits you,’ she replied. ‘Katie showed me some pictures of the set work you did on last year’s play. You’ve got some serious art skills.’

  I tried to control the surprise riding across my face. Josephine and Katie had obviously talked about me on more than one occasion. But instead of boosting my confidence, the knowledge only fueled my nerves. ‘Thanks. I’ve always liked drawing and painting. Who knows, maybe I’ll go to art school one day.’

  ‘Katie said you moved to Sixes a couple of years ago,’ Josephine continued. ‘Where’d you live before here?’

  The shift in conversation caught me off guard. ‘Different places.’

  ‘Like where?’ she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  I sighed, feeling embarrassed, like I usually did when someone asked about my past. Normally I’d just play it off, but for some reason, I couldn’t do that with her. ‘Before living with the Corsis, I was in a group home,’ I said, keeping my eyes on the road. ‘At least, that’s what they tell me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  I gnawed on my lower lip, a habit I seemed to be developing around her. ‘There was a car accident, according to my case file. I suffered some head trauma, but I lived. My parents didn’t. So I ended up in the care of the state.’

  Josephine gasped. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry! That must have been horrible.’

  ‘I guess it would’ve been,’ I replied with a shrug. ‘But I don’t remember any of it; not my parents, not the accident. To tell the truth, I barely even remember the Corsis. My time with them just sort of runs together in my head. In fact, nothing really fell into place for me until I came to live with Hugo.’

  ‘And it doesn’t bother you?’ Josephine’s forehead creased. ‘Not knowing, I mean.’

  ‘Well, I’m just used to not knowing,’ I replied. ‘Actually, I haven’t ever told anybody this before, but the truth is, I don’t think I really want to know. The past is the past, kind of like a door that’s bolted and locked from the other side. I can’t do anything about it, so I guess I’ve just accepted it.’