Gypsy Magic

by Rebecca York; Ann Voss Peterson; Patricia Rosemoor

  Sabina’s mind caught. “The funeral home? You were turning into the funeral home?”

  “My mother had just died. A heart attack. We were scheduled to meet with the funeral director. To make plans.”

  Sabina’s heart clutched. Valonia’s curse rang in her ears. Justice is blind. Love is death. The law is impotent. “First your mother, then your wife?”

  “And now my father. That makes everyone. Except me, that is.” His mouth pressed into a bitter line.

  Love is death. Was that the part of the curse that had befallen Garner? Had his wife and his mother died as a result of Valonia’s curse? And though he’d clearly had big problems with his father, she’d never seen hatred in Garner’s aura when he talked about Claude Rousseau. Garner must have loved him. At least in some way. And now he was dead, too.

  “My mother didn’t trust doctors. She always said she couldn’t stand them poking around. We didn’t even know she had a heart condition. I keep thinking that if I’d forced her to have a checkup, she might still be here.”

  “You can’t blame yourself. You couldn’t possibly have known.”

  “Maybe not. But that’s what we do after a tragedy, don’t we? We go back and relive everything we did wrong. Every bad decision or little bit of neglect that led up to the tragic moment.” He turned his head to look at her. A smile curled his lips, a smile that held no humor, only sadness and pain. “I guess I’ve just had more opportunities to second-guess myself than a lot of people.”

  “But none of it was your fault.”

  “My mother’s death, maybe not. And my father’s death. But Mary Ann’s…” He shook his head and pulled his tortured gaze away. “I was driving.”

  Sabina shook her head. He couldn’t blame himself. The cause wasn’t what he’d done or failed to do. The cause had been dictated long ago by his father’s actions and Valonia’s revenge.

  Sabina drew in a deep breath. “None of it was your fault, Garner. I know why everyone in your family died. Everyone you loved.”

  He met her eyes. “Why? Because God has a sick sense of humor?” His voice was bitter, angry. And she couldn’t blame him. She couldn’t blame him a bit. “There was no reason. I stopped looking for one long ago. Now I just want to find peace.”

  “There was a reason. Remember when I told you my aunt can cast spells and render curses?”

  “Yes.”

  “When my cousin Carlo, her son, was convicted and sentenced to death, she put a curse on those responsible—those with sons, just like Carlo was to her.”

  His eyebrows crooked toward his hairline. “A curse?”

  She nodded. “Justice is blind. Love is death. The law is impotent.” She stopped walking and turned to look directly into his eyes. “Don’t you see? Love is death. That is your curse. Those you love will die.”

  Garner looked down at her, his disbelief obvious.

  “It’s true,” she said. “Believe it or not, whatever you wish, it’s true. None of it was your fault.”

  He shook his head. Tightening his arm around her, he resumed walking along the highway’s gravel shoulder. Finally he let out a sigh. “I don’t know that your aunt is the source, but I do believe I’m cursed.”

  “Because you lost your wife, your family?”

  “No. Everyone loses people they love. If that’s a curse, then it’s a curse the entire human race shares.”

  “If not your loved ones’ deaths, then how do you believe you’re cursed?”

  “When Mary Ann died, I felt my heart was cut from my chest. It was two years before I could go even an hour without thinking of her, without wishing I had been killed along with her. I can’t go through that again. Even if it means living alone for the rest of my life, I can’t deal with the pain that comes with loving someone and losing them.” He paused and looked down at her, his dark gaze cutting through what few defenses she had left and penetrating her heart. “But I never thought of it as a curse before. Not until now. Not until I met you.”

  Sabina’s throat constricted. Her eyes burned with tears begging for release.

  Garner looked away from her and focused on the road ahead. “We made it.”

  Sabina followed the path of his gaze. The carnival loomed in front of them on the outskirts of Les Baux. The Ferris wheel glinted in the sun as it turned, filled with families enjoying the day, enjoying each other. Sabina’s heart ached at the sight.

  Garner’s arm dropped from her shoulders, but he didn’t move away from her. He stood stock-still, looking out over the carnival. “I’ll report the accident to the police. And I’ll call a defense attorney I know who’s due for a little extra pro bono work. He’s good, and he owes me one. I’ll have him contact you. If there’s a way to help your cousin, he’ll find it.”

  She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

  “I wish I could do more. But I just can’t.”

  Pain pulsed from Garner like blood from an artery. Pain Sabina was powerless to heal. Pain that pulsed in her, as well. She reached for his fingers, wanting to renew the contact between them, then stopped and let her hand fall to her side, useless as a rag. “I guess this is goodbye.”

  “It has to be. I wish you luck, Sabina King.”

  She beat back her tears and looked up at him, trying to meet his eyes. But he didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze on the Ferris wheel, as if turning his eyes on her one last time was too difficult.

  “Thank you for your help, Garner Rousseau. I hope life gives you the good things you deserve from now on. You’re a good man.”

  He forced a poor imitation of a smile to his lips. “Can you see that in my aura?”

  She reached her hand toward him and rested it on his chest. He was so solid under her fingers. Yet so broken. “No, I can feel it in the beat of your heart.”

  GARNER WOVE and dodged his way through the late Friday-night crowd on the midway. Two days had passed since he’d said goodbye to Sabina. Two excruciating days of sitting alone at his father’s house, sorting through years of memories and thinking about the scent of Sabina’s hair, the tinkling of her earrings and the spark of life burning deep in her jade eyes.

  He’d done everything he’d promised to do when they’d parted. He’d reported the pickup truck to the police and done his best to convince them to devote some time and effort to the investigation. He’d called the attorney friend he’d told Sabina about and enlisted him to work on Carlo’s case. And he’d forced himself to stay away from Sabina, though nothing he could do would chase her from his thoughts.

  He’d been over and over his decision to let someone else help Sabina with Carlo’s case. And each time he reviewed what he’d done, he knew he’d made the right choice. He’d only spent two days with Sabina. Two days. And already she’d burrowed under his skin and was working her way dangerously close to his heart. Any more time with her and he didn’t know whether he could stand saying goodbye. And he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t face that kind of pain again. He had to watch out for himself this time. And for her.

  But for the past few days, he hadn’t been able to think of anything but the truck bearing down on them on the highway, the fire in Sabina’s sister’s trailer and the knife attack on Wyatt Boudreaux. He had to see her one more time. He had to make sure she wasn’t taking risks to find more evidence to exonerate her cousin. Risks that could jeopardize her safety. Maybe even her life.

  But as soon as he made sure she was safe, as soon as he convinced her to turn the investigation over to a private detective—a detective he would gladly pay for—he would stay away from her. For good this time.

  Assailed by spinning lights and squeals of laughter, he circled the spinning cars of the Tilt-a-Whirl and made his way toward the shadowed hulks of the tents devoted to games, selling goods and fortune-telling. The grass between the tents had been worn down by foot traffic, leaving nothing but greasy mud sprinkled with straw. Carnies leaned from the tents hawking games of skill and chance to passersby. Light glowed from
a large tent at the end of the row. A sign out front entreated the curious to enter and learn their futures. Garner lifted a corner of the flap and glanced inside.

  Amid velvet drapes, silken pillows and candles, an old Gypsy woman hovered over a woman Garner recognized from town. The Gypsy held the woman’s hand, tracing the lines of her palm with a withered finger. Gray hair peeked out from under the scarf knotted around her head. Lines deep as mountain gorges creased her face. Gold coin bracelets similar to the earrings Sabina wore tinkled with the movement of her hands. “Understand, my dear, that I see wealth for you. Wealth and success in your career.”

  The town woman hung on every word.

  He let the tent flap fall. Spinning away, he ran smack into a tiny waif of a woman. He grasped her arm, steadying her on her feet. “Pardon me, Miss.”

  She looked up at him with luminous brown eyes that seemed both childlike and worldly-wise at the same time. She had to be in her mid-twenties, but the way she tilted her head reminded him of a small child with a question. A giggle broke from her lips. “Are you looking for someone?”

  “Yes, I am. Do you work here? At the carnival?”

  “Work? Sometimes.” She giggled again. Her long dark hair curved in wisps with the contour of her neck. Her loose sack of a dress and gold hoops on her ears and wrists made her look like an elf or mischievous pixie of some kind. “I’m Florica.”

  “Do you know Sabina King, Florica?”

  “She’s one of the sisters.”

  He supposed she was referring to Sabina and her sister Alessandra. “Yes. The sisters. She is one of the sisters. Do you know where she is?”

  The pixie pointed at the fortune-telling tent. “Valonia is in the tent, not Alessandra. Valonia can’t really tell fortunes. Not like Alessandra. Alessandra can see the future. I wonder what she sees now.”

  Garner looked back at the tent. So the old woman in the tent was the one supposedly cursing everyone. She seemed so small, so frail. She didn’t look as if she’d be able to curse her way out of a wet paper bag.

  “I’m not looking to have my fortune told. I’m looking for Sabina.” He made his words very clear, hoping the young woman would understand.

  To his dismay, another giggle bubbled from her lips. “Sabina doesn’t tell fortunes. Not like Alessandra.”

  “I know. I don’t want my fortune told. I want to find Sabina.”

  Now she pointed at a small tent huddled to one side of the tent housing the fortune-teller. “Sabina is a healer. That is her tent.”

  The tent was dark, the front flap closed and tied. Obviously Sabina wasn’t selling her spells. But where was she? He frowned at the sprite. He was getting nowhere here. He’d have to find someone else to help him. Such as Sabina’s aunt. He took a step toward the fortune-telling tent.

  “Do you need to be healed?”

  The pixie’s quiet question stopped him in his tracks. He turned back to face her.

  “Sabina can heal people. Do you need to be healed?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I need Sabina to heal me.”

  The girl’s mouth crooked into a smile. “Then follow me.” She whirled and scampered off, her hair and dress fading into the night.

  Garner ran to catch up.

  She darted in and out of the crowd, passing through pools of shadow and light. As soon as Garner spotted her, she flitted in another direction, her head bobbing as she ran.

  He’d trailed her halfway down the alley of games when she disappeared between two game tents. He followed, cutting through the line of tents at the point where he thought she’d vanished. The shadows behind the game booths seemed all the deeper after the swirling lights of the midway and the neon streaming from some of the games. The rotting scent of the day’s garbage hung in the air. He scoured the blackness, but the strange, rather fay creature was nowhere to be seen.

  In the shadowy field before him, he could make out the hulking shapes of more than a dozen trailers, the traveling homes of the carnival workers. Had Sabina returned to her trailer for the night? Maybe this was where the pixie was leading him before he’d lost her.

  Deeply rutted, the field was almost devoid of grass, worn away by feet and tires. He pushed ahead, checking each trailer for light. Through one window, he could see a Gypsy woman tucking children into bed. In front of another trailer, men hunched over guitars, the music drifting on the air and mingling with the calliope and zydeco music of the carnival.

  A giggle sounded from behind a trailer to his right. The waif playing a game of hide-and-seek? He rounded the trailer, following the sound. There in the shadows was a pair of teenagers in a clutch. Another giggle rose from the girl’s lips.

  It was no use. He’d lost Florica. Maybe she’d planned to lead him on a wild-goose chase, he didn’t know. With her strange giggle and the impish glint in her eyes, he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d played him for her own amusement. Well, if he couldn’t find Sabina among the trailers, he would find a ticket seller or someone else on the midway who could help him locate her.

  Worry cramped the muscles in his neck and shoulders. What if Sabina wasn’t at the carnival? What if something bad had befallen her?

  Garner raked a hand through his hair and tried to bring his thoughts under control. No matter where she was, he’d find her. He had to if he wanted to preserve what little bit of peace he had left.

  SABINA SAT DOWN among the silk pillows on the bed in her little trailer. Elbows on knees, she cradled her head in her hands. She just didn’t have the energy to stand in her tent hawking magic spells to carnival-goers tonight. She was exhausted. Weary to the bone. She’d been running herself ragged trying to scrape up more evidence to support Carlo’s case while trying to run both her tent and Alessandra’s fortune-telling tent. If it wasn’t for Valonia offering to stand in for Alessandra tonight, Sabina didn’t know what she would have done.

  Drawing a deep breath, she stood, walked the few steps to her little refrigerator and rummaged inside for a cold can of soda. Wyatt’s recovery was progressing well. Alessandra planned to return to the carnival tonight. The attorney Garner had asked to take Carlo’s case seemed to be doing a good job. Sabina’s life would return to normal soon. But somehow that thought didn’t bring her relief.

  She didn’t want her life to return to the way it used to be. She didn’t want to travel to the next town, selling her spells, moving through life alone. She wanted change.

  She wanted Garner Rousseau.

  She shook her head and popped the top of the soda can. She might as well want to be queen.

  A thump and scrape sounded outside, rising over the strum of nearby guitars and the music of the carnival. Sabina tensed. Though she was probably being paranoid, she couldn’t help remembering the fire that had almost killed Alessandra and Wyatt. She looked around her trailer for something she could use as a weapon. Clutching a wine bottle by the throat, she tiptoed to the door and pushed it open slowly.

  A hand closed around her wrist.

  Chapter Four

  A woman’s scream ripped through the humid night.

  Garner’s heart leaped into his throat. He knew immediately the scream was Sabina’s. He could feel it in the pinch of his gut and the shot of adrenaline that slammed into his bloodstream. He raced in the direction of the scream.

  Dodging around trailers, he forced his feet to move faster over the rutted terrain. Another scream split the air.

  Garner saw her silhouetted in light streaming from the open doorway of a trailer. The outline of a man hulked behind her, one hand holding her around the middle, the other hand on her throat, choking her. He wore a mask, one with a sharp beak and feathers like a bird of prey. The attacker released her throat. He raised his fist and slammed it into Sabina’s jaw. Her head snapped back like a doll’s, and she slumped to the ground.

  A bellow rose in Garner’s throat. Finally reaching her trailer, he flung himself at the man. His fist connected with plastic and feathers.

  The man spun from G
arner’s punch. Short yet powerfully built, he regained his balance and lunged at Garner. The blade of a knife flashed in his hand.

  Garner grabbed the assailant’s forearm and brought it down hard against the corner of the trailer. The man grunted, but his fist only tightened around the knife’s handle. Garner slammed the man’s arm against the trailer again. This time a cry of pain broke from under the mask and the fist went slack. The knife hit the dirt and bounced under the shadowed edge of the trailer near where Sabina lay.

  Garner held the man with one hand, groping under the trailer’s edge with the other. He had to reach that knife first.

  Foot lashing out, the man tangled one leg with Garner’s and shoved with strong arms. Garner lost his grip on the man’s arm and fell backward, hitting the dirt beside Sabina’s still form.

  The attacker twisted away. He managed to grab the knife. He held it out in front of him, blade flashing in the light from the open trailer door.

  On hands and knees, Garner angled his body between the knife and Sabina. The birdman might have the advantage now, but he would never get to Sabina. Garner would make sure of it.

  The assailant’s head whipped around, as if noticing someone’s approach. Taking advantage of the man’s distraction, Garner scrambled to his feet and lunged at him, but he wasn’t fast enough. The man turned and sprinted away, disappearing into the shadows of the surrounding trailers.

  Sabina. He spun back and fell to his knees beside her. She moaned softly, but her eyes remained shut, half-moons of lush lashes brushing pale cheeks.

  Fear tinged his mouth, along with the copper flavor of blood. He knelt and gathered her in his arms, then carried her up the few steps and through the open door of the trailer.

  The inside looked just like Sabina. Soft, gentle, somewhat exotic. Green pillows lined the bed. Plants of every shape and kind sprang from pots and crept toward the wide windows. Draperies of some shimmery material blocked the night outside.