Grey (The Romany Outcasts Series, Book 1)

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Grey (The Romany Outcasts Series, Book 1) Page 17

by Christi J. Whitney


  ‘Hugo never said anything about a seal,’ I said warily.

  ‘Interesting.’ He leaned forward, lacing his long fingers together. ‘It would seem the Corsis are trying to manipulate this situation for their own purposes. You have, after all, been given a brand.’

  I grabbed my wrist. ‘How did you…’

  ‘They sensed it,’ Augustine said, gesturing to the three figures. ‘The brand is the first step in an irreversible process to seal a guardian to his Gypsy charge.’

  The others made eerie, hissing sounds.

  Augustine held up his hand, and they fell silent. ‘But I can offer you a way out.’

  ‘A way out of what?’

  He pressed his laced fingers to his lips, watching me carefully. ‘Once a guardian is sealed, he becomes trapped in servitude to the Gypsies. It is, of course, the reason the Corsis gave you that tattoo. What I couldn’t figure out, however, is why Hugo Corsi hadn’t sealed you to his clan. It made no sense.’

  ‘A mistake,’ I murmured, almost to myself. ‘He said it was a mistake.’

  Augustine’s face went strangely blank. But then, his casual smile returned. ‘That may very well be. Sadly, many of the intricate details surrounding gargoyle branding have been lost over the years. It is quite possible that he made an error. Or, there could be another explanation.’

  I shifted impatiently. The man was irritatingly slow, as though he enjoyed drawing everything out. I wanted him to get to the point, but I forced myself to hold my tongue.

  Augustine’s brows drew together over his dark eyes. ‘At first, I believed the Romany girl was simply a foolish romantic notion of yours, a pure coincidence. But Anya was suspicious. In fact, she observed the two of you together for some time before she ran your van off the road.’

  I staggered under the force of his words. ‘So that was the test?’ I ripped the paper out of my pocket and flung it to the ground.

  Augustine leaned back. ‘We wanted to see what you would do, should the life of the girl be put in danger.’

  Anya flitted closer. ‘Plus, it was fun.’

  A hot flash burned through me. ‘You keep away from her.’

  The three figures struck defensive postures. But Augustine merely crossed his arms nonchalantly over his chest. ‘An impressive display of anger from one so young of your kind,’ he remarked. ‘Of course, that very trait – those primal, unrestrained emotions – is one of the reasons you’re so easy to control. But the girl isn’t our concern right now. You’re our priority.’

  ‘But why?’ I demanded. ‘I’m nothing special.’

  ‘Are you so sure about that?’

  Augustine gave a quick nod. The figures leapt forward. I ducked as an arm swung at my face. I rolled, coming up in a crouch, a hiss playing across my lips. I felt supercharged, ready for anything. Another movement caught my eye, and I lunged, knocking one of the males off his feet. The other rushed at me, and I whipped around, catching him by the throat. My fingers tightened. And then, I saw my horribly clawed hands. I recoiled from my attackers and backed against a column. The hard stone dug through my shirt.

  Augustine looked pleased. ‘Do you still think so, Sebastian Grey? Can you still pretend you’re just like everyone else?’

  I panted. ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘We don’t want anything from you,’ he replied, sounding surprised. ‘We came here to save you from them. We came to show you that you have a choice.’

  ‘A choice in what?’

  ‘In whom you’re going to serve, Sebastian.’

  An ominous silence permeated the sanctuary. Augustine and the gray figures looked at me expectantly. Then Anya approached. The mist peeled from her body, and I saw her clearly for the first time. Underneath the hood her skin was chiseled gray, like a marbleized statue come to life. Long hair shimmered like polished pewter, split on either side by demonically canted ears, framing a face highlighted in dark shadows. Silver eyes glittered in her shadowed face, and as she smiled, dark lips pulled back to reveal rows of sharp, jagged teeth. ‘You see, little gargoyle fledgling,’ said Anya, her voice haunting, ‘you’re one of us.’

  ‘Not quite yet,’ said Augustine, almost chiding. He kept his eyes on me. ‘Right now, he’s nothing but a Gypsy pet. But you could be so much more, Sebastian. You have special talents; talents that the Gypsies want. They seek to control you, and if you do not change your current course, they soon will.’ He ascended the broken altar at the front of the room. Moonbeams filtered through the stained glass, bathing his face in pallid light. ‘The process is already much farther along than I would like.’

  I had a sinking feeling in my chest. ‘The process?’

  ‘Of course. The bond is already strong, isn’t it?’ Augustine’s eyes pierced into mine. ‘You feel it, don’t you; the insatiable pull towards the one assigned as your charge. The desire to protect at all costs.’

  I clutched my wrist tightly between my fingers. In my mind, I saw the image of the pendant hanging so delicately against her chest, the dandelion glimmering inside the glass.

  ‘Josephine,’ I said in a low voice.

  ‘Yes, the Romany girl. I don’t doubt you’ve even dreamt of her, imagined yourself defending her from danger. Am I correct?’ He smiled when I didn’t answer. ‘Somehow, despite the efforts of your ignorant brother, the Romany girl appears to be the one you’re intended for. You must break this growing bond with her before you are permanently sealed and under Gypsy control.’

  I let go of my wrist. What they were demanding was impossible. To stay away from Josephine was impossible. She was the only thing that made sense. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ Anya replied coldly. ‘Don’t let them trap you.’

  ‘No one’s trapping me.’

  Augustine looked at me with something like sympathy in his gaze. ‘Sebastian, you are about to find yourself in the middle of feuding Gypsies with grievances older than you are. Get out while you can. Let us help you.’

  Sweat glazed my temples, but I didn’t bother to wipe it away. The tension in the room was unbearably thick. ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘If this bond is broken before you are sealed, you will be free. You will no longer be plagued with that enslaving desire to protect her; that desire that consumes all your thoughts and actions. You know exactly what I mean.’

  Yes, I did. I felt it every moment of every day. I was concerned about her safety. No, I had become obsessed with her safety. It was all I thought about. She was all I thought about.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Let the Gypsies worry about themselves, Sebastian. Your brother’s motives are not in your best interests. He has only taken care of you because he wants to use you. It’s time to step out from under him and live your own life. You can move on and forget about all this.’

  ‘But Josephine…’

  Augustine’s face smoothed, and his voice took on the quality of a parent trying to comfort a small child. ‘She’ll be fine,’ he crooned. ‘She has her own protectors.’

  ‘Like Quentin Marks.’

  I wasn’t surprised that he knew exactly who I was talking about. ‘Among others, yes.’

  Anya paced with irritation, her fists clenching. ‘Then it’s settled. Break your ties and be done with it.’

  My anger bristled. ‘I don’t understand why I matter this much to you,’ I snarled. ‘Why do you care?’

  ‘Why?’ she echoed. ‘Because we’ve been there before…myself, Matthias, and Thaddeus. We’ve been enslaved by those wretched Gypsies. And we want revenge for all the suffering that…’

  Augustine descended suddenly on Anya, catching her hard across the mouth with his fist. ‘Silence!’

  She hissed and fell back, slinking to join her companions. She didn’t appear hurt, but her eyes were molten silver as she glared at him.

  ‘Go, all of you,’ Augustine ordered. ‘You have duties to attend to.’

  Anya nodded curtly. Mist gathered around them, followed b
y a heavy flapping sound. I caught a glimpse of what looked like leathery wings, but then, the trio was gone. Augustine’s attention returned to me.

  ‘Anya was out of line,’ he said apologetically. ‘She doesn’t think too highly of the Outcast clans. But, then again, neither do I.’ He went on. ‘You see, those gargoyles were once under the control of clans much like your brother’s. But I rescued them, showed them what they were truly capable of.’

  ‘And what’s that, exactly?’

  His lip twitched mysteriously. ‘You will learn for yourself, soon enough.’

  I leaned my head against the column. I didn’t know what to do or what to believe anymore. Augustine lifted his hand, stopping just short of touching my shoulder. It was intended to be a comforting gesture, but it made my blood run cold.

  ‘All the insanity will end, Sebastian,’ he said softly. ‘If you break your ties. You’ll be yourself again, not ruled by thoughts and emotions you cannot control. Don’t you want that?’

  I studied my clawed hands, feeling my chest tighten. I thought of my dream of being a tattoo artist, like Hugo. Or even attempting art school in the future; a future that I was in charge of, not someone else.

  I raised my eyes to meet Augustine’s. ‘If I break the ties, will I be normal again?’

  ‘Trust me, Sebastian,’ Augustine replied. ‘Everything Hugo has tried to manipulate will end. Confront the Corsi clan with what I have told you. Your eyes will be opened to their true motives. Hugo seeks to use you. I seek to empower you.’ Augustine moved away. ‘But you must decide soon.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because each moment you spend near Josephine Romany will only make this more difficult for you. You’ve been weakened by the bond too much already. Once you’ve reached your decision, come and see me. I will be here, in the bell tower.’

  I’d been furious moments before. Now, I felt numb. ‘All right.’

  Augustine produced something from his pocket. ‘And please, accept my apology on Anya’s behalf for her over-enthusiasm with your test.’ He tossed me a set of keys. ‘You’ll find your van parked around back, good as new.’ Augustine smiled, his pink scar twisting upward. ‘Now go. The Corsi clan will be wondering what happened to their pet.’

  He regarded me for a moment, then turned and walked out of the room. The hollow clang of the door echoed in my ears.

  17. Turbulence and Tranquility

  My van was parked behind the church – just like Augustine said – and he hadn’t been kidding on the ‘good as new’ bit. No one would’ve guessed it’d had an up-close encounter with a tree. I turned the key in the ignition, and it rumbled to life.

  As I drove through town, passing the high school, everything felt surreal. It was like watching my life being played out by a stranger. I adjusted the rearview mirror and scrutinized my reflection. There was no denying the similarity in my hair and skin tone with Augustine’s companions. I swallowed hard. Would I end up looking just like them?

  I needed to go home, to confront Hugo. But instead, I found myself crossing the Sutallee Bridge into the Fairgrounds. Ever since I’d left Josephine, I’d been unsettled. Augustine called it a growing bond. All I knew was that the separation was driving me insane. Until I had proof she was safe, I couldn’t go back to the shop.

  It was well past midnight. She’d probably be asleep. I’d just drive around the fence, check the grounds. Nothing intrusive. Make sure Josephine’s all right and the feeling would go away. I was sure of it.

  The Fairgrounds’ iron fence rose against the blackened sky. Security lights cast a sparse glow over the grounds, steeping everything in shadows. I parked the van well off the road. The last thing I needed was to be mistaken for a burglar.

  I scurried along the perimeter of the fence. When I reached the caravan of buses and trailers, I was surprised to find them all dark, even at such a late hour. I doubled back for the front gate, growing increasingly restless. I knew I was experiencing that freaky pull Augustine had talked about, but I couldn’t help myself. It was as though my body wouldn’t listen to reason. I had an overpowering desire to get inside the Circe before I did something crazy.

  Crazy.

  That was it. If I was crazy, then why not act on it? I spotted an old magnolia tree a few yards away. It was taller than the fence. A smile slid over my face.

  Perfect.

  I took off running and leapt, grabbing hold of the nearest branch. I swung myself onto it with surprising grace. Like my balance, my dexterity had definitely improved. I crouched on the branch, taking inventory of myself. My senses were heightened and alert. My heart beat stronger in my chest. I felt recklessly alive.

  Were gargoyles supposed to feel this way?

  Taking a deep breath, I began to climb the tree. The higher I went, the better I felt. My fears melted away. Soon I was well above the fence. I settled into another crouch, feeling oddly secure on the narrow branch, as if I’d been doing stuff like this my whole life. Dark asphalt spread like a vast pit below me. My rational mind told me that a jump from this height wasn’t safe. And it would hurt.

  But instinct told me otherwise. In fact, the new compulsion was so strong that it blocked out a lifetime of logic and experience. And suddenly I knew that, if I jumped, I would be fine.

  So I did.

  My feet pushed against the branch – propelling me outward – and I sprang into the air. The sensation was more like flying than jumping. I sailed effortlessly over the iron bars and made my descent on the other side. My body braced for the hard impact, but it never came. Instead, I touched down lightly on the balls of my feet, my hands assisting in balance as I dropped to all fours.

  I’d barely made a sound.

  My head snapped up, and I glanced back at the fence. I’d actually jumped over it! I pulled myself together and took a look around. The only interior light seeped from the opening of the main tent. I moved quietly, keeping to the darkest shadows. Once I reached the structure, I pressed against the thick canvas and peered through the entrance.

  Inside was a scene from another world. A large, circular stage dominated the middle of the tent, surrounded by rows of audience seating. Curtains of wispy fabric and ornate set pieces decked the performance space. Filtered stage lighting wrapped everything in a cozy, candlelit glow.

  On the stage, an assembly was gathered.

  Some were dressed in costumes, others in work clothes. Nicolas and Sabina Romany graced the center of the group, with Francis hovering nearby. But there were no happy expressions, as there had been at Josephine’s party. I spotted Josephine at the edge of the stage. Quentin was next to her, his muscular arm draped over her shoulder.

  My upper lip curled of its own accord, and I had to repress the strong urge to hiss. Calm down, Sebastian. I’d wanted to make sure Josephine was safe. She was. I needed to leave before someone caught me. I didn’t need to be a part of this. My head buzzed, and I recognized the sensation for what it was: my instincts overruling my common sense.

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I slipped inside and ducked behind the audience stands, creeping close enough to hear. Nicolas Romany stepped forward, and the circus folk quieted.

  ‘Thank you for gathering on such short notice,’ he began. ‘And I apologize for interrupting your rehearsals. I know you’ve been working late hours getting ready for the show. But there have been rumors circulating about tonight’s events, and I thought it best that we meet before they got out of hand.’

  The crowd murmured among themselves.

  Nicolas raised his hand. ‘It was just a simple case of robbery, nothing more. The men got away with some petty cash. They escaped before the Marksmen could track them down, but we’ve called off the search. Nothing else was taken, and no one was hurt. Since it’s not our custom to involve the gadje in our affairs, I decided not to call the police.’

  Though I didn’t understand why, my chest tightened, and I had to bite back a rising snarl. The circus folk glanced nervously at eac
h other. Then, suddenly, Quentin’s voice rang out.

  ‘You may be convinced that’s all it was, Nicolas. But I’m not.’

  The crowd shifted uneasily.

  Nicolas regarded Quentin. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because whoever it was, they got past our defenses tonight. I’ve expressed my concerns for weeks now that someone was following us.’ Quentin glared from under his dark brows. ‘I think we should cancel the show until we’ve thoroughly investigated this. I don’t want anyone from this clan in danger.’

  Sharp cries rose from all sides of the stage, especially from those in costume. I caught Josephine’s horrified look.

  ‘But we’re scheduled to open on Sunday,’ she protested.

  Quentin wasn’t deterred. ‘So we postpone until a later date.’

  ‘We can’t do that,’ said Sabina Romany. Her gently commanding presence seemed to calm the crowd. ‘We’ve worked too hard, Quentin. And we desperately need the profit.’

  Francis, who’d been silently observing the exchange, spoke up. ‘And what’s the big deal anyway, if somebody’s following us? We’re a big clan. We’ve got protection. I don’t understand why we freak out every time there’s an incident.’

  ‘Because it’s my job to keep the Circe safe,’ Quentin shot back. ‘That is, unless you want to debate the law, Francis.’

  His voice dripped with contempt, as though he was trying to invoke some kind of response from Josephine’s twin brother, but Francis only shrugged.

  ‘I’m just saying we tend to overreact, no matter what town we’re in. This is supposed to be a Haven, right? And the Corsis live here. Why don’t we get their help with this? Find out if they know anything.’

  ‘We’re not associating with that clan!’ Quentin’s body went rigid. ‘They don’t have any regard for our laws!’

  ‘Calm down, Quentin,’ Sabina said quietly.

  ‘We may not agree on everything,’ he went on, turning his attention to Nicolas. ‘But as the head of the Marksmen, I’m in charge of security. I think there’s a threat out there, and until I know what it is, I don’t feel comfortable letting the Circe open as usual.’

 

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