“It’s so hot,” I whined. It was late afternoon, the temperature was unbearable, and the extra fires that had been lit around camp were only uncomfortably adding to the summer heat.
Xan was sitting on the grass, the guns in-between his spread legs. He wiped his forehead on his shoulder. “Speaking of, would you tie up my hair? My hands are filthy.”
I trudged over to him. “I don’t have any hair ties.”
“Just tie it up in one big knot.”
Thick with pencil thin dreads, his hair hung down to his waist. I separated the dreads into two handfuls and tried to tie them together in a giant bow. He laughed as I struggled. It didn’t look nearly as neat as when he did it himself.
“Your hair is annoying.”
I plopped down next to him and watched, fascinated, as he disassembled and reassembled the weapons with such ease.
“But beautiful,” he said in a mock serious tone. “My mamă said so.”
“She has to say that. Not only is she your mommy, but she does your dreads for you.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and quickly slipped it back in my mouth when he tried to grab it with his greasy fingers.
“Ugh, gross,” I yelled and rolled away from him right onto a rather large and familiar pair of bare feet.
Oh gods. I looked up, and up, and saw Gerik looking down at me.
“What are you doing?” he practically growled.
“Nothing,” I said, closing my eyes and congratulating myself on my superior ability to make a bad situation worse with my horrible conversation skills.
“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out slowly. “Then come with me, yeah?” Bending down, he offered me his hand as if he actually expected me to take it. I looked at his hand. Was he crazy? Did he actually think I was going to touch him right here in front of Xan?
Realizing his mistake, he retracted the hand and shoved it in his jeans pocket. I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked up at him. His lips thinned as he realized I wasn’t going to be standing up anytime soon.
“I think I’m just, uh, gonna stay here for awhile,” I hedged.
His eyes blazed pure white, all color had disappeared. “Why?” he bit out.
I glared at him, suddenly angry that he was angry. “Because,” I retorted, sounding childish.
Xan laughed loudly. “Oh for shit’s sake, frate, Trin just wants to learn how to shoot, that’s all. Why don’t you go re-learn how to breathe normally and by the time you’re done with that, she’ll be back in your lap again. Safe and sound and untouched.” Xan emphasized the word ‘untouched’.
Gods, what exactly had Gerik said to him?
Gerik glanced at Xan, then back at me, the muscles in his face twitching. I sucked in a breath. He was going to lose it. I stood quickly, ready to go to him before he did anything stupid.
“I’ll see you later, yeah?” he said, surprising me. His eyes bled back to blue. “But, Trinity?”
I raised my eyebrows in question.
“Don’t touch his hair again.”
Embarrassed by Gerik’s display of ownership, I refused to look at Xan as Gerik walked back to the living lot.
“You okay?” Xan asked after awhile.
I nodded jerkily.
“Good. Catch.” He tossed a dirty rag at me. “Make yourself useful before we start dry rifle drills.”
We worked in silence for a few minutes. “Did Gerik ever tell you the deal with his hair, fată?”
I gave Xan a mocking look. “They’re braids, what’s to tell? I figured he’s vain about his hair. Sorta like you.”
That earned me a loud snort.
“The braiding and unbraiding of the hair is a ritual of sorts; one that has been passed down from several Scandinavian family clans for hundreds of generations. Before men would go to battle, their women would plait their hair, locking their strength and power in place and keeping them safe until they came home to them again.
“They kept their braids in until they came home and only their women would be allowed to take them out, unlocking the warriors from their battles, bringing them peace once again.”
My heart fluttered a little. I thought of the many times I’d slid my fingers through the first undone braid, letting the silky strands glide over my hand. Gerik’s entire body would relax as if he was deflating. After I unwound the second braid I would massage his head while his long hair spilled across his back in small waves.
“What if they never made it home?” I asked.
“They died with their power tethered to their souls; it would follow them into their next life so they would be reborn again just as powerful. Or so the stories go… but who really believes that sort of crap?”
I was rendered speechless. What did one say in response to a story like that? More importantly, why hadn’t Gerik told me? Gerik and his secrets were starting to wear on me.
Xan stood up, wiping his hands on an already dirty cloth. “Let’s go, Trin. Pick up the rifle; I want time to wash before the dance tonight.”
******
I didn’t have much in the way of clothing except a sundress, a pair of patched over jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of flip flops that had seen better days. Everything else I’d accumulated was either on loan from around camp or Becki’s. So I let Becki drag me to Jaelle’s tent to get ready for the fire meeting and dance tonight. The fire dances were special to the Romani and you didn’t attend one looking like a hobo.
Jaelle tied my hair back in several braids, beaded with brightly colored wooden beads of all shapes and sizes. Becki let me borrow a handful of her bracelets and necklaces; some store bought, others beautifully handcrafted. A sleeveless tunic the color of violets finished the look, hitting mid-thigh with one of Becki’s chunky leather belts.
“I’m keeping this,” I told her, admiring my reflection in Jaelle’s mirror as I smoothed the tunic over my hips.
Becki glanced at me over her shoulder as she continued to rifle through an old trunk of clothing. “I don’t mind.” She threw a bundle of scarves over her head. “You needed something pretty anyway.”
For the first time in a long time, I had to admit, I did feel rather pretty.
The camp always felt majestic during fire dances. The fires seemed to burn brighter and a sense of togetherness filled the air. The tension I seemed to always carry with me would ease and for just a little while I could relax and enjoy myself.
The women always wore their finest. Complete with gauzy dresses and heavy jewelry, they paraded colorfully around camp. The married women were less extravagant and paired their ensembles with traditional fine spun silk headscarves, called diklos.
The children were freshly washed. The men, both young and old, donned their colorful dress shirts, neck scarves and, just like the women, they, too, appreciated an abundance of necklaces and bangles.
The guitars and violins sat by the fire as their owners waited in anticipation to put them to use. Coffee and water, a daily staple for all, waited on a table by the fire. Fresh vegetable stew from our small but plentiful gardens and hand woven baskets full of fresh berries and dried fruits had my mouth watering. It was a veritable feast.
Several rabbits and a turkey slow-roasted on a spit nearby. Shandor’s little brother, Simionce, looked up from his job at turning the delicious meat and grinned at us.
Becki tugged on my arm. “Look at Jericho!”
Jericho had brought out the barrels of liquor he'd distilled himself. Laced heavily with fruits and sugar, the Romani loved it. I, on the other hand, always felt like I needed a good tooth brushing afterwards.
“Gather, children. Gather ‘round the fire.” Maisera motioned to us all.
Tin cups were passed out and filled; I inhaled the fruity fermented scents of the liquor and sighed in pleasure. After the first sip my body instantly warmed. I laid my head on Becki’s shoulder. “I so needed this.”
Xan plopped down heavily beside me and clinked cups with me, almost spilling the precious alcoho
l.
“Watch it,” I told him.
“Touchy, touchy.”
“This, little Gypsy, is a precious commodity.”
“First of all, Trin, there ain’t nothing little about me.” He winked and smiled that goddamn cocky smile. “And second, I have my own stash in my trailer. I don’t go on those friggin’ raids for nothing.”
“Yes,” I said dryly. “Because food and medical supplies are nothing.”
“I don’t have any damn magic like everyone else; every time I go out there I’m risking my life. I think of it as a reward of sorts for my efforts.”
“I don’t have magic either, Xan.”
“Yeah well, you weren’t raised here.”
I nodded, not wanting to imagine a lifetime of being an outsider. “That must have been hard,” I said.
Becki leaned over me. “Poor, poor Xan. His life has been full of oppression and suffering.”
“Mind your business, surioară.”
“You know, Xan; it’s kind of gross that you still call me ‘little sister’, especially after—”
Xan’s eyes went wide and he nearly knocked me over trying to reach Becki in order to slap his hand over her mouth. The rest of her sentence came out in a muffled garble. She bit down hard on his thumb and he snatched his hand away quickly.
“…you and I drank that bottle of—”
His hand went back over her mouth. “Would you shut up?” he yelled.
Xan cleared his throat, still glaring at Becki. “Are you going to behave? There are children around.”
Apparently propriety had become important to him in the last ten seconds.
She nodded, but I could see the laughter dancing in those chocolate eyes. Stupidly, Xan removed his hand.
“…rum we stole from Jericho and screwed each other’s brains out.” She finished in one big rush, grinning from ear to ear.
I never thought it possible for Xan Deleanu to be embarrassed. I was wrong. If looks could kill…Xan would have burned Becki to the ground. Becki, unfazed, laughed so hard I thought she was going to pee herself.
“I heard that story before.” Stevo winked at Becki as he sat down next to her. His long hair was wet and glistening from his recent bath.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Becki,” Xan said. “That was probably the closest thing to rape a guy has ever experienced.”
I turned toward Becki, frowning, and before I could stop myself, “Is there anyone here you haven’t slept with?” I asked her, perhaps a little too loud.
Alana, a heavyset woman with enormous breasts, cuddling her three children, looked over from her conversation and frowned at all of us.
With her mouth agape, all humor gone, Becki glared at me. “I’m sorry, Trinity? Jealous?”
I winced at the acid in her voice.
“It must be hard being the only person in the world who has never had sex.”
Stevo’s mouth fell wide open. Embarrassed, I scrambled to my feet and took off across the fire pit, but not before I saw Xan's head jerk up in surprise.
I ran straight towards Gerik, not caring that Onyx was sitting with him. He shot me a questioning look as I sat down. I just shook my head and kept my eyes fixed on Jericho and Maisera, who were now standing with their hands clasped and raised.
Silence had fallen across the fire pit, a sign of respect for the couple who cared for everyone like they were their own.
“Tonight, children, I tell the story of Mullo.”
CHAPTER TEN
The little ones ran forward, always the most eager for story time.
Maisera settled next to Jericho in their lawn chairs with their elbows hooked loosely together. She gave her husband a smile so sweet that I swear I saw sparks fly. The bond they had with each other was not only a joining of bodies but of something much deeper. It was glorious, it was ageless, and it was everything. Together, they were beautiful to behold.
I caught sight of Onyx’s skinny fingers creeping over top Gerik’s denim clad leg. I watched her squeeze the individual muscles in his thigh and start possessively massaging him. Brushing her short black hair out of her eyes, she caught me staring and smiled. I immediately looked away from Onyx.
“Mullo,” Maisera began, “was born centuries ago, the eldest son to the Baró of the Drágon clan. He was a powerful Roma, blessed by nature with all the magical elements.” Maisera turned to look at Gerik. “Much like you, băiatul meu,” she said with a small smile.
“Back then, Romani were not welcome in the Gaje world and had to travel many miles in hiding. This particular clan had settled peacefully, deep within the Carpathian Mountains, far away from the towns and villages that had condemned them.
“But they were not alone in the mountains. A Gaje lord with a hunger for power that could never be sated lived among them. It is said that the day he attacked he spared no one his brutality, not even the children, in his attempts to learn the secrets of their magic.
“The Baró’s two sons had been away from camp that day. They returned home to find the blood-strewn remains of their people. Everyone had been slaughtered, even the children.
“Mad with revenge, the eldest son walked for days thinking only of the vengeance he was to exact on his enemies. His body grew gaunt, his clothes torn, but still he walked. Upon his arrival, the guardsmen laughed at the solitary Gypsy who thought to take on an entire fortress of armed men. They laughed until they looked in his eyes.
“Bottomless pits of black despair. He spared no one he found. No man, woman or child who crossed his path that day had been safe from his madness.”
I shivered hearing this. Gerik’s braid tickled my shoulder as he leaned close. “Are you cold?” He whispered. I shook my head without looking at him.
“Mullo,” Maisera continued, “had called upon dark magic to seek his revenge. And in this life, nothing is given freely. There are consequences to every action. In return for his bloodlust, he will now always hunger for blood. For cutting short the lives of hundreds of innocent people, he was condemned to live out their lives and the lives of their unborn children and their unborn children, in a never ending cycle. He will never know peace or life without suffering. He was condemned to a life of eternal pain, shrouded in darkness.
“It was said that he never again left the fortress, and that anyone who dared to venture up into those mountains was never heard from again.
“Mullo was the name given to him. It means: the first Vampire.”
“Freaky, yeah?” Gerik was studying me intently.
Four months ago I would have laughed at that story, written it off as just another campfire tale or legend that had been tossed around over the centuries. Gods knew how many I’d listened to my father tell. I knew Greek mythology like the back of my hand but, despite how many people believed otherwise, I hadn’t taken it at all seriously.
But now? And after everything I’d seen? What had Jericho said when he’d had one of those creatures suspended in mid air? “Blestemul de vampir.”
I had no idea what the rest meant, but ‘vampir’ was clear enough. Is that what those things were? Vampires? There went that whole ‘dark and sexy vampire lurking in the shadows’ theory.
“Uh, yeah", I said, "Is that story true?”
“Maybe,” Gerik answered, sounding blasé. “Haven’t been to the Carpathian Mountains lately to check it out.”
I shot him a dirty look and he laughed. The deep, throaty sound resonated through me making me feel soft and comfortable. Similar to the sensation I used to get after taking a long hot bath, then snuggling down deep under my covers.
“Dance with me, Trinity,” he asked softly.
The dancing had just begun and both the young and old were already spinning around the bonfire. The Roma who were not dancing were tongue clacking, hand clapping and clicking wooden spoons together in time to the fast-paced melody.
Having heard Gerik’s question, Onyx stood. The amount of hate in her eyes could have fueled a small city for a de
cade or two.
“Um…” I tried to look anywhere but at Onyx. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea.”
Gerik glanced up at Onyx who immediately tried to hide the fact that she’d been giving me death stares, but Gerik had seen her. Getting to his feet, something silent and inexplicably intimate passed between the two of them and she softened. She shot me one last look of disdain before walking away.
The longing I'd glimpsed in her eyes was enough to knock me out flat.
“She loves you,” I whispered, feeling horrible.
“No, you don’t understand.” He reached for me and I scrambled backwards.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed and fled from him through the throng of dancers.
Grabbing a bottle of rum out of a startled Pitti’s chubby hands, I took off toward the empty side of the end lot to find a private place where I could still enjoy the music. I loved the music in camp. It was free and magical, just like the Gypsies who'd created it.
As the violins whined, while the fiddles wailed, and the guitars strummed faster and faster, the foot stomping and hand clapping grew louder and the people more raucous. The Mousai goddesses were here tonight, of that I had no doubt. I could almost picture them twirling around the dancers, unseen to human eyes, as they frolicked and giggled, spelling them with the need to keep dancing.
I danced alone in the dark. My braids flew and my dress billowed around me as I spun around. Shimmying and swaying, my bracelets and beads shook and rattled to their own unique beat. The more I danced, the more I drank, letting the alcohol soak its way into my bloodstream, working its own kind of magic. Soon a sense of delirium and a delightful skin tingling numbness took over.
I lost myself inside the music of the Roma and to the inhibitions of alcohol. Both were drugs I didn’t need right now clouding my mind. But nothing was as bad as those deep blue eyes that were watching me from the shadows. Gerik was the worst drug of them all. I’d been pretty even keel my entire life until I’d met Gerik and experienced the kinds of pleasure only he had ever brought me. The exquisite places his body would take mine would stay with me for days afterwards. I’d be left empty, imagining the highs I still had yet to reach and knowing it was only Gerik who could bring me back there.
The Holy Trinity Trilogy Page 7