Grey (The Romany Outcasts Series, Book 1)

by Christi J. Whitney

  My heart skidded to a halt.

  ‘Do all Gypsies know that?’

  Hugo frowned. ‘Know what?’

  ‘The dead part.’

  His face flashed with understanding. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh God,’ I breathed. ‘Josephine.’

  I leapt up, clearing the room in two bounds, heading for the door. Vincent and Kris moved almost as fast, meeting me at the entrance. They wedged their bodies between me and escape. I whirled around, frantic.

  ‘Hugo, I have to go,’ I pleaded, ‘Augustine told me if I didn’t make the choice, he’d make it for me. I have to get to Josephine!’

  Hugo moved closer. I sensed the looming presence of the others at my back, barring the exit. I smelled their sweat and heard their ragged breathing. I hunched over, feeling the blood racing through my veins, the panic rising in my chest.

  My brother nodded stiffly. ‘All right.’

  For a split second, I thought I’d heard wrong. Then James rushed to his side.

  ‘Hugo, what are you doing?’ he demanded. ‘What about Zindelo…’

  ‘Step away from the door,’ Hugo ordered.

  The guys glared at him with shocked faces, but they complied without another word.

  Hugo fixed his gaze on me. ‘Now go, before I change my mind.’

  I backpedaled to the door, unsure of what was happening. But I didn’t have time to think it through. I’d already wasted so much time. ‘I’ll come back,’ I said as I grabbed the handle. ‘I promise.’

  I burst through the door and jumped into my van, fumbling for my keys. What if Augustine was already there? What if he’d done something to her? I raced out of the parking lot towards the Fairgrounds. She was fine, I told myself. She had to be fine. If I were connected to her, then surely I would know if…

  I refused to complete the thought.

  I turned onto Fairground Drive, crossed the Sutallee Bridge.

  And then, I hit traffic.

  Opening night of the Circe de Romany.

  The one-lane road was bumper to bumper all the way. Adrenaline pumped through me, and with it came fear: panicked, blinding fear. I no longer cared what was senseless and what was sane. I was going to reach Josephine, and I was going to save her. My entire being was consumed by that driving force.

  I jerked the wheel, careening off the road and down the bank. It was useless driving. The trees were too thick. I parked the van in the ditch and jumped out, running for the Fairgrounds as fast as I could. I saw the front gates, ornamented with lamps that sparked against the evening sky. Just beyond, the Circe de Romany was alive with lights, sounds, and smells. Hope rose, then sank in my chest. The line at the entrance was enormous.

  I raced along the perimeter, looking for an unoccupied space of fence. The Circe was swamped with people, and I shuddered, feeling trapped before I was even inside. The only thing propelling me forward was the thought of protecting Josephine Romany.

  What I was meant to do.

  I stopped running, finally finding what I needed: a sturdy tree growing near the fence. In a matter of seconds, I was up and over, landing quietly behind a carnival booth. I pulled my hood low over my face, and stepped into the crowd. The mass of humanity was suffocating. I pressed as close to the edges of the pavilions as I could. I had to hurry. Suddenly, I heard my name.

  ‘Hey, look who it is,’ Avery yelled, jogging up. ‘I thought you’d gone totally AWOL, man!’

  Katie and Mitchell were right behind him. Mitchell was stuffing cotton candy into his mouth. Katie looked at me, clearly disgusted.

  ‘Thanks for calling me back, Sebastian,’ she said, her voice biting with sarcasm. ‘I must’ve left twenty messages on your phone.’

  I faltered, torn between guilt and the need to find Josephine. ‘I’m so sorry, Katie. I didn’t mean to just disappear. The fire thing at the movies, and then I got sick again. I’ve been in bed all day.’

  ‘Seriously?’ she asked accusingly.

  ‘Uh, yeah,’ I replied. My excuses were lame, but I didn’t know what else to do. I glanced anxiously at the Big Tent. ‘I…ah…caught the flu or something.’

  Avery slapped me on the shoulder, and it took everything in me not to snarl at him. ‘Well, you’re good now, right?’ he asked. He wasn’t the least bit bothered by Katie’s foul mood. ‘I think the show’s starting soon.’

  Mitchell spoke around a mouthful of pink fluff. ‘Yeah, we promised Josephine we’d be there to watch.’

  Josephine.

  ‘I have to go,’ I said, backing up. ‘Why don’t you save me a seat, okay?’

  Katie looked at me as if I’d gone insane. ‘Yeah, okay. Whatever, Sebastian.’

  I hesitated, feeling awful. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Katie maneuvered out of the way. ‘We’ll see you inside,’ she said in a tone like battery acid.

  As I watched my friends walk away – taking my old life with them – the rift between my two worlds gaped opened. I’d convinced myself that I could somehow piece the two together. That I could deal with my own changes and this strange Gypsy society I found myself involved with, and then just keep going on as I was.

  But I’d been lying to myself the whole time. I knew that whatever happened tonight, things would never be the same again. Not with my friends. Not with me. But I couldn’t stand there and dwell on it now. I turned away, letting the crowd consume me.

  A series of long gates blocked the back section of the Circe from the public. I wove through pieces of equipment and large crates until I reached them. I made sure no one was around then I readied myself for what should’ve been an impossibly high jump. Adrenaline fueled me, and I leapt easily over the gate and landed in a soft crouch on the other side. The Holding Tent was only a few yards ahead. I prepared to sprint for it.

  But I was nearly flung backwards by ice daggers through my gut, piercing to the marrow of my bones. A group of men rounded the tent from the opposite side, marching in a tightly knit group. I ducked behind a large crate. They were dressed head-to-toe in black. Bows and arrows were strapped to their backs and knives hung from belts at their waists. I wondered what their part was in the show. Then I caught sight of the man in the lead.

  Quentin Marks.

  I shoved myself against the wood, suppressing a growl. Quentin was in the middle of giving instructions as he passed, his smooth voice firm and commanding.

  ‘Phillipe and Stephan,’ he said, waving his hand, ‘I want you to keep the back areas secure. The rest of you, patrol the perimeter. I’m not taking any chances tonight.’

  The men marched past the crate, and I eased around the other side until they were out of sight. The frigid cold released me. If Quentin was out making rounds, then Josephine had to be okay. But that knowledge didn’t alleviate my anxiety or lessen my resolve. I scrambled for the open doorway.

  Partitions of colored drapes were arranged inside, creating numerous dressing rooms. The lighting was dim, and I moved stealthily, keeping to the shadows. I slid along the outskirts, avoiding the crowded areas, but I didn’t have to search for Josephine. My freaky gargoyle radar had activated.

  I knew exactly where she was.

  21. Heaven and Hell

  I followed my extrasensory homing beacon towards Josephine Romany. My senses were going haywire, everything inside me tuning in to her frequency. I paused outside a draped-off door. The fabric was parted just enough to catch a glimpse of her silhouette against the bright white bulbs of a large make-up mirror.

  Suddenly her body stiffened, and I knew she felt my presence. I gathered my courage and passed through the curtain. Josephine was sitting at a dresser, surrounded by the soft glow of lights. She was in full costume and looked every bit like the Gypsy from my image; dazzling and otherworldly.

  ‘Josephine.’

  A profound calm rippled over me as I said her name. I hovered in the shadowy corner, captivated by Josephine’s reflection in the glass. My heart convulsed like a caged bird. She kept her gaze averted, howev
er, looking at a large bouquet of roses sitting nearby.

  ‘You came,’ she said softly.

  There was a strange quality to her voice – something I hadn’t heard before – and I wavered, almost afraid to answer. Her face was difficult to read within the mirror. She touched one of the red petals, and I saw the card nestled in the bouquet. They were from Quentin. Josephine’s hands shifted to her hair, smoothing it carefully into place.

  ‘I know the show is starting soon,’ I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you.’

  I started to back out, but Josephine whirled in her chair, her emerald eyes stopping me in my tracks. Her hand went to her throat, and I straightened quickly, alarmed at the look on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

  She fiddled with the gold bangles on her arms, and her expression clouded over. ‘Quentin’s been secretive all day, like he’s expecting something, but he won’t talk to me. I know I shouldn’t be worried. The Marksmen have always protected us.’

  ‘You mean the bow and arrow guys.’

  She nodded. ‘They always patrol, especially during performances, but this time, it just feels different. Something we haven’t dealt with before.’

  My protective urges flickered to life. I clenched my teeth against the rising tension in my body, the instincts begging to take control. ‘Then I need to keep you safe.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Josephine,’ I began slowly. It was time to lay all my cards down on the table, such as they were. ‘You asked if there was something different about me.’ I braced myself. ‘Well, there is.’

  She came around her chair slowly and looked into the shadowy corner where I was hiding. ‘Step into the light.’

  My head jerked up in surprise. But I couldn’t refuse her request. That thing inside me – that pull – just wouldn’t let me. I reached up, discarding my hood. Then I moved from the shadows. Josephine gasped softly.

  ‘Sebastian…’

  She searched my face, lingering on my eyes. I waited in rigid anticipation, prepared for her to turn me out. Instead, she crossed the room until she was right in front of me. Her hand was at her neck again, absently playing with the pendant. I felt the current instantly.

  ‘You’re…supposed to protect me, aren’t you?’ she asked, her voice soft with wonder.

  My breathing doubled erratically. All I’d heard since this whole thing had started was how I was misplaced, how I wasn’t supposed to be linked to Josephine Romany. But as I looked into her eyes, I knew everyone was wrong. ‘Yes.’

  Josephine’s brows furrowed. ‘But I don’t understand. Quentin is our protector. The Marksmen look after our clan. It’s their job. You aren’t even a Gypsy, Sebastian. What reason do you have to protect me?’

  Here was my moment to tell Josephine how much I loved her; how I loved every single thing about her. She was so close that I was getting dizzy, and her intoxicating scent threatened to send me to my knees.

  And I couldn’t tell her. Not like this. Her face was so radiant in the soft light, and every bangle, every piece of costume glittered like jewels. She was a Gypsy angel. And what was I? A gargoyle? If what Augustine said was true, I was nothing she’d ever consider.

  Especially not now.

  ‘I have to keep you safe,’ I whispered.

  ‘How, Sebastian? What can you offer that Quentin and the other Marksmen can’t?’

  My chest ached with tension. ‘Have you ever heard of guardians?’

  She stared hard at me, scrutinizing every detail of my face, her expression a mixture of conflicting emotions. But when she spoke, her voice was steady. ‘Like from the old Roma legends.’

  For some reason, I hadn’t expected her to know. ‘Well, that’s what I am,’ I said quickly, before I could change my mind. ‘And that’s why I need to make sure you’re safe.’

  Josephine leaned nearer until our breaths mingled together, both shallow and uncertain. ‘How?’ she asked again, her voice desperate.

  My gaze fell to her pendant, and suddenly, she knew. I couldn’t explain it, but she knew, just like I knew. It was some overwhelming, instinctive knowledge between us. I didn’t know if that was normal or not, but I didn’t care. And it didn’t matter if I believed Hugo or Augustine or anybody else, or what was true or make-believe.

  This moment was real.

  Josephine inhaled once, slow and deliberate, and her fingers clasped the pendant. The same magnetic pull I’d felt in the movie theater took hold of me. She turned the pendant over in her fingers, and my tattoo shot sparks across my skin. The air around us seemed to carry the weight of some harbored secret.

  ‘What will happen if they touch?’ she whispered.

  A sharp, biting fear snapped at my insides. For the first time, the enormity of what I was about to do hit me. What was going to happen to me, to Josephine?

  How much more would I change?

  My arm rose, and my actions were no longer my own. The inked dandelion stretched along the inside of my wrist, vulnerably exposed. Josephine held the pendant higher. The distance closed between us. I closed my eyes, helpless and terrified.

  A loud voice split the silence.

  ‘Josephine! Warning cue to the backstage!’

  I recoiled into the shadows – disappointed and relieved at the same time – until Josephine followed me. A startled gasp escaped me as she ran her fingers curiously through my gray hair. I went weak at the knees, blinking hard to stay focused and upright.

  But I couldn’t breathe.

  ‘Warning cue!’ yelled the voice again.

  Josephine’s fingers froze. ‘I have to perform,’ she said, sounding dazed. Her fingers slipped from my hair. ‘My act is next.’

  She pushed aside the drape and looked out. I tried to balance my teetering emotions. I’d been so certain about everything just minutes ago. Now, I was wrenched with conflict. Josephine turned around.

  ‘Come with me,’ she said.

  My brows shot up. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me.’

  Josephine smiled, though her eyes were still uncertain. I wrestled the urge to hide again as I stared into the cavern of my own feelings. I knew I loved her. My heart didn’t lie. So then, what was I going to do about it? How much was I willing to risk? As those emerald eyes met mine, I realized I had my answer.

  Josephine Romany was worth any sacrifice.

  ‘All right.’

  Her smile softened into something more genuine, and she dipped through the draped opening. I followed close behind. Performers darted around and stagehands in black herded them to their places. Josephine ducked into another dressing area, beckoning me inside.

  ‘This is Andre’s space,’ she explained, moving to a hanger of clothes. ‘You can wear his costume.’

  ‘I can do what?’

  ‘He’s my partner,’ she said, searching the rack. ‘He’s sick tonight so we’re going on without him, but if you’re wearing a costume, you’ll blend in better backstage.’

  ‘You want me backstage?’

  She looked over the clothes and smiled. ‘You said you wanted to keep me safe, right? I figured you’d want to be nearby.’

  I actually found myself grinning. ‘Okay.’

  Josephine returned to the costumes, sorting through them with her fingers. She called back over her shoulder. ‘Hurry, take off your shirt.’

  My smile vacated, and I swallowed nervously. But this was no time to be self-conscious. If I wanted to keep her safe, I had to be near her. And to be near her, I had to be able to get backstage. I quickly unzipped my jacket and shrugged off my shirt, tossing them aside. Josephine yanked a hanger from the rack and spun around to face me. Her eyes widened.

  ‘Oh…’

  Her voice trailed off, and I looked away, my face growing hot. I caught my reflection in the dressing mirror, and I couldn’t blame Josephine for her reaction. My entire body was unmistakably gray – not pale, not sallow – but gray. Every contour in my face a
nd neck, every bulge of muscle and bone in my chest was outlined in charcoaled shadows. My eyebrows, the hollows under my eyes, and even my lips were a darker shade of the same color. I couldn’t help noticing that my arms seemed more defined; my shoulders a little broader. Avery would’ve been impressed. But the rest of my physical alterations weren’t so positive.

  Josephine approached tentatively, her eyes still roaming my body. I was warm with embarrassment, but my skin was tingling. Music and applause filtered through the walls of the tent, snapping us both back to reality.

  ‘Here,’ she said, indicating the hanger of clothes. ‘Get dressed and meet me backstage. I have to go before they come looking for me.’

  She pressed the costume into my hand, her fingers briefly grazing mine, and then she was gone. She was sending me into a tailspin, and I felt recklessly out of control. Focus, Sebastian, focus. I knew there wasn’t much time. Taking pains to avoid the mirror, I pulled a dark blue tunic off the hanger and slipped it over my head. There was a long cloak as well. I swung it over my shoulders and huddled gratefully into the deep hood.

  I scurried through the Holding Tent – avoiding the frantic performers – and made my way outside. Josephine had been right about the costume. I spotted several others in similar attire. No one would look twice at me. I could stay nearby and keep an eye on her. If Augustine or his minions tried anything, I’d be there to stop them.

  Of course, I hadn’t figured out how yet.

  Inside the backstage area of the Big Tent, all was muffled darkness. Monstrous curtains divided the stage from the inner workings of the Circe de Romany. Music wafted through the air, and I could feel the excitement of the audience on the other side. I scanned the area with my night vision eyes. A large platform – complete with rope ladders and a massive fly system – loomed overhead. Around it, crewmembers adjusted ropes and pulleys.

  My familiar sixth-sense alerting me to Josephine’s presence buzzed through me, and I turned to see her – along with a group of similarly costumed people – passing through a small opening in the curtain. Her head dipped in my direction, and she smiled briefly. Then she disappeared.