Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  “This is not your concern,” Petre stated with venom in every word. “She is mine.”

  “I hear her say different, mongrel!” The two men eyed each other. “And everything that goes on here is my concern. This is my land,” said Marku.

  “An Anghelescu,” said Petre with derision. “You think you can interfere in Curarya business just because you live in a great house? We are the Rom! We follow no law but our own, the Zakono!”

  “Filthy gypsy dog! Your law holds no power in my realm. I can kill you here and now, and no one would stop me. But it is your lucky day. I’m prepared to let you leave with your head intact. The terms of my leniency are simple; get off my land and never return!” Marku touched the tip of his sword to Petre’s neck who continued to stare hatefully back at him.

  Petre knew he would have to comply, despite his greater urge to fight. He was not armed, and did not have any of his backup with him. He had chased Mihaela into town on foot after she had run from his advances earlier in the day. He’d had every intention of branding her as his even though the wedding was set for the next day. He would not let her get away from him. He’d waited too long, and had been spurned by her too often ever since three years earlier when their fathers had made the wedding pact.

  Retreat was the only way at this moment. Anghelescu was right. This was his realm. All the Curarya knew it. They traveled through here every spring under peaceful agreement with this cur’s father. Petre’s father would not be pleased if his actions today upset the rhythms of their clan.

  Backing up, Petre kept his eyes on Mihaela. “I will see you at home, Mihaela. Be sure that I will be waiting with both our fathers for your return.” With that, he turned and walked east out of the village toward where their family had set up camp.

  Marku slowly lowered and then sheathed his sword. He turned to look down at the woman. She had remained on the ground behind his legs during the entire altercation. Looking up at him now, she felt her heart expand in her chest. He’d saved her; saved her from yet another beating at the hands of that monster. For three years Mihaela had sought every way to get out of her marriage pact to Petre. She knew all along what a cruel person he was. She’d seen him fly arrows into his younger brother’s pet dog for fun, killing the animal slowly. She’d witnessed him kicking an old man in the last village where they’d set up camp nearby. The old man had done nothing to deserve such treatment. Petre was simply an evil man who derived pleasure from causing pain.

  When their fathers had agreed to a marriage contract, she’d nearly fainted in horror. Her family was poorer than most, but Petre’s family had offered what would be considered a fortune for her hand in marriage. This was not common practice, but Mihaela was no common young woman. Among her people she was considered exceptionally beautiful.

  Petre had grown up around her, but never noticed her beauty until she had suddenly blossomed one summer. He’d felt a fire in his loins when he noticed her, and knew he would have her and no other. He’d gone to his father that day and demanded that he arrange a marriage contract between their two families. His father had laughed until he saw the seriousness in his son.

  The first meeting between their families did not produce an agreement. Mihaela had refused to accept Petre, and being a man who loved his daughter, Simion had refused on her behalf. Petre did not give up. The next night, he and his father had returned, demanding that Simion align with their family. Petre’s father, Janus, had not taken the rejection well, either. He had a puffed up sense of himself and his importance within the clan. As he saw it, any family would be honored to be allied with his. The two patriarchs clashed verbally, and five meetings later, with much bargaining and veiled threats exchanged, an agreement had been reached. The only major stipulation had been that Mihaela be allowed to grow into her full womanhood before she wed. After all, at the time she was only fourteen years old. It was the last gift of goodwill from her father, the best he could do considering that his greed in upping his status in the clan had made him barter his daughter’s happiness.

  She was given a reprieve of three years. In that three years, Petre had tried time and again to bed her, beating her when she refused his advances. No one helped her. All her people turned a blind eye to her bruises. Until today.

  This man before her had done what no one else had. He’d protected her. And he was handsome! His dark curls framed a strong face with warm dark eyes. His lips were full, his shoulders broad, and his height equaled that of Petre’s. But where Petre was tall and lean, this man was muscular. His body gave evidence to his obvious warrior’s training.

  Marku smiled down at the vision of loveliness sitting at his feet. Her large brown eyes had impossibly long eyelashes, and their almond shape drew him into their velvety depths. Her skin was like fine cream kissed by the sun, and her full lips seemed ready to burst with ripeness. Not to be outdone, her lush bosom pushed forth over the top of her blouse cinched close to her waist by her corset. He extended his hand, and she shyly placed her own smaller one in his. The electricity that shot through his entire being at that innocent touch had left its mark upon him. From that day forward, he knew she would be his.

  In the distance, the scene was observed by jealous eyes. As anger burned in his heart, Petre slipped off into the darkness of the forest unseen.

  ###

  Petrescu watched the woman walk quickly away from the cluster of dormitories. Dana Veleru seemed to be talking to herself. She looked upset as she made the sign of the cross and hurried across the quad in a haste to catch the last bus running the line for the night.

  He looked up at the window where a light came on. A shapely silhouette passed out of sight before returning to pull the blind down. He imagined she would now be getting undressed and ready for sleep. The thought of her laying in her bed stirred his blood. He easily recalled her long legs, full bosom, and lush lips. His fingers twitched at his sides itching to sink into her blonde locks and pull her close, to hold her still while he claimed her as his own. But he knew he must control himself. Lack of control would ruin his plans. He was going to have to play it cool, woo her. He had a clean slate now, and he was not going to take any chances. This time, she would be his…he just needed to be what she wanted—a charming gentleman. Petrescu lit a thin cigarette and took a long drag. After centuries, he’d learned patience. He would exercise that ability now. Turning, he walked back to his car planning his next move. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he noticed that the light in her room was now off. “Sleep, Mihaela, for tomorrow, our courtship begins.”

  Chapter Four

  “I’M SORRY I didn’t believe you then.” Dana marched through the open door past the old woman who stood holding it open with a surprised look on her face. That look was quickly replaced by a somber wisdom.

  “You’ve seen one,” she said, closing the door and blocking the cold, damp wind. The old woman peeked out the window before pulling the shade down.

  “Yes.” Dana turned and looked at her grandmother.

  “And you ran?” She hobbled slowly to the stuffed chair by the wood-burning stove and sat, adjusting herself until she was comfortable. She pointed a crooked finger at the chair opposite. Dana sat, but remained on the edge, still very much ill at ease.

  “Not fast enough.” She shrugged out of her coat and pulled it onto her lap like a protective shield.

  “Why do you say this? What happened?”

  “He was after Meghan, and would have had her had I not pulled her away.”

  The glow from the grate in the old iron stove cast shadows about the room. Normally, it felt cozy, but tonight, the shadows seemed to hold deep, dark secrets. The low light emphasized the lines in her grandmother’s face, and Dana was surprised by how many there appeared to be. She didn’t usually notice them as her grandmother was most often smiling, but she was not smiling now, and the seriousness of her countenance increased the fear in her heart.

  “Who is this Meghan?”

  “She is an exchang
e student come from America. She is also teaching English. We went to Ilana and Stefan’s for dinner. That is where I saw the dark one.”

  “Go on. How did you know?” The old woman sat forward, waiting.

  Dana’s eyes reflected her terror. “It was just like you said all those years ago. When he came in, I felt a fire burn inside of me like nothing I have experienced. It was both burning hot and ice cold. I just knew in that moment I must get out of there, but he already had her attention. And that’s not the worst part, grandmamma.”

  “Tell me, child.”

  “He knew me.” Dana’s voice lowered to a whisper as if speaking any louder might alert the devil to her whereabouts.

  “He knew …what?” Her grandmother’s eyes pierced hers.

  “He spoke,” she struggled to explain. “He spoke, but only I could hear him. He called me…gypsy!”

  The old woman gasped, and immediately made the sign of the cross before spitting over her left shoulder twice. “You are sure?”

  “Yes, he did it not once, but twice.”

  “Dearest lord, he is truly a dark one.” Worry marred her grandmother’s face. She sat back and stared into the fiery grate, quietly considering what she just learned. Finally, she turned to her granddaughter. “But you got away? He did not chase you?”

  Dana shook her head. “No. I made sure we got away. I made sure to get Meghan to her room, and then I came here. I need to know what to do, grandmamma. What do I do?”

  “That is most strange,” she said. “And this Meghan, how did she react to the dark one? You said he had her attention?”

  “She noticed him noticing her. Actually, he paid for our dinner.” Dana raised an eyebrow at the strangeness of that statement. “But he seemed focused on her, and I think I was just in the way.”

  “He wants her. He was warning you to not interfere, and you interfered.” The harshness in her rebuke made Dana jump.

  “Was I supposed to just let him have her? She is my friend. I could not leave her.”

  Her grandmother continued to glare at her, and then wrinkle by wrinkle, her angry expression smoothed out. “No, of course not. You are gypsy, so you are loyal to a fault. But hear me, Dana. He has warned you of his intent. He will not offer warning again. You must not cross his path.”

  “I was not looking to cross paths with this dark one at all, but I need to know what to do. How can I protect Meghan?”

  The old woman sighed. “You will have to be very sneaky.”

  “Why?” Dana looked confused.

  “Because, you foolish girl, she will not believe you. She is not from here. Americans think dark ones are fantasy from movies and books. Your friend knows not of the Curarya ways. She is not gypsy. You will have to be smart about this.”

  “But how?”

  “A charm to start. I will help you, but we must act fast. I need to collect the necessary items. We are going to make a protective talisman for your friend. You will present it to her as gift, but she must never take it off while she is here. It will be up to you to make sure she wears it.” The old woman leaned forward once again. “We will extend the Curarya clan’s protection to this young woman, Dana, but you must remember that she is outsider, and if this dark one comes for her anyway, if my magic is not strong enough to keep her safe, then you must save yourself!”

  ###

  Meghan awoke feeling refreshed. Today, she had two classes of her own before teaching in the afternoon. After a quick bath, she dressed, wrapped a red scarf around her neck over her coat, and grabbed her books before heading out to the cafeteria. She was quite fond of having her coffee in the morning. It helped wake her up, get her energized. Outside, light flakes of snow were falling slowly covering the ground. It made the pathway slippery, but she managed to make it to the cafeteria door without falling. It was warm inside, and the scents of bread, eggs, and coffee lifted her spirit. She headed for the line picking up a tray along with utensils. Three students were ahead of her trying to decide between wheat and rye rolls, and poached versus American-styled scrambled eggs. Meghan picked up a coffee mug and slowly pushed her tray down the line choosing the scrambled eggs and whole wheat roll with what appeared to be real butter.

  “A hearty breakfast, I see.”

  Meghan jumped. The deeply accented voice coming from behind her filled her immediately with dread. She didn’t understand why, but when she turned around, the blond professor from the day before was standing there, a little too close for her personal comfort.

  “Sorry, you startled me. Mr. Petrescu, wasn’t it?” She tried to step away and leave a little more space between them.

  “Petre, please.” He smiled and pushed his own tray closer once again. “And how was your first day?”

  Meghan came to the coffee pots where she reached for one of the glass pitchers. Petrescu was faster and grabbed the handle first while taking her mug from her hand and pouring the steaming brew in up to the rim. He handed it back, but something in Meghan hesitated. Feeling silly, she took the now full cup and when his fingers touched hers, she cringed. A feeling worse than the dread caused by his voice filled her, and she suddenly wanted to run.

  “Thank you.” She set the cup on the tray sure now that she would not drink it. “It was fine. Thanks for asking.” She came to the cashier and paid for her breakfast. Desperate to get away from this man who set off all her alarm bells, she turned. “Well, gotta run. I have class in twenty minutes and need to hurry.”

  “Then I guess I’ll see you this afternoon.” He smiled.

  Meghan stopped, confused. “This afternoon?”

  “Yes, I’ll be joining your English class. Just to brush up, of course.”

  Pasting a weak smile on her face, she nodded. “I’m not sure you’ll get much out of it. Your English is already very good. Are you sure you wouldn’t benefit from one of the other more advanced courses?”

  “Not at all. I’m sure you will be just fine for my needs.” His dark eyes seemed to be saying something else entirely and it was creeping Meghan out.

  “My class,” she said.

  “What?” He blinked.

  “My class. My class will be fine for your needs. Not me.” She corrected him hoping that was what he meant.

  “Ah, yes. See? It is the smallest nuances. Thank you for my first lesson.” He gave a sort-of mocking bow, the smile resembling more of a smirk now.

  “Okay, well. See you later.” Meghan didn’t want the conversation to go on any longer so quickly ended it and made her way to the far side of the cafeteria where she dumped the food into the trash, all except for her roll which she carried with her as she walked outside into the cold. All she wanted to do was get away—fast.

  Petrescu watched her go, a speculative glint in his dark eyes.

  Outside, Meghan shook off the bad feelings the man inspired in her. She couldn’t pinpoint a single thing he’d done to cause her to feel the way she did, but her mother always taught her to trust her instincts, and her instincts screamed at her that this guy was bad news. She decided to keep her guard up and maintain a comfortable distance from Petrescu, but having him in her class was going to make the rest of the semester miserable on that score. Hopefully, with all the other students and Dana there, she wouldn’t notice it so much. Meghan was glad in that moment to have made a friend who would help distract from anything negative.

  ###

  Dana sat through Meghan’s English class, but with a touch of impatience. She clutched a small box in her sweater pocket turning it over and over again while she recited common English phrases along with the other students.

  “Where is the bathroom?” Meghan said.

  “Where is the bathroom,” the class recited after her.

  “How much does it cost?” Meghan walked back and forth in front of the class.

  “How much does it cost?” they all replied.

  “Good. In America, you will find that there are many ways people say hello. Some of those ways are “Hello, Hi, Hey, Wha
t’s up? How’s it hangin’? Yo!, How are you doing?” She smiled at their confused faces. “I know. It can be difficult. Often when someone asks you how you’re doing, they don’t actually want to know how you’re doing. They’re really just saying hello.”

  “Then why not just say hello?”

  Meghan saw Petre Petrescu raising his hand while simultaneously speaking. Her smile fell. “That’s a great question. It’s more of a regional colloquialism. Certain areas of the country use very particular phrases. For example, in the south, a lot of people speak with a drawl,” she lapsed into her best Gone With The Wind Scarlett O’Hara impression, “and they say ‘ya’ll’ instead of you or you all. In those southern states, they will ask ‘How’re ya’ll doin’?’ instead of ‘How are you doing?’ whereas up in New York,” she switched to Joey Tribbiani from Friends, “a person might say ‘How you doin’?’ It depends upon what area of the U.S. you happen to be in. That’s probably pretty confusing, but if you stick with the tried and true, just say hello and how are you for those you don’t know, and hi, hey, and what’s up for those you do know. That would be your formal and informal greetings.”

  Dana raised her hand.

  “Yes, Ms. Veleru?” Meghan acknowledged her formally.

  “What means this ‘What is up?’ I do not understand how this means hello.”

  Meghan laughed low. “It’s like asking someone what’s going on or what’s new since last I saw you. Does that help?”

  Dana nodded.

  “Did everyone understand or do you have any questions?” Meghan addressed the class.

  Everyone nodded yes, but a few seemed unsure.

  “It’s okay if you don’t quite get it yet. We’ll be going over it all again tomorrow when you come to class. The first thing I want everyone to do then is to greet your fellow classmates with any of the phrases I introduced today, okay?”

  “Okay,” they said.

  “Okay, then I will see you all tomorrow. Same time. Same classroom.” She waved as they all got up to leave.