Gypsy Magic

by Rebecca York; Ann Voss Peterson; Patricia Rosemoor

  But in the morning, her mother was found dead, and the alleged murderer was another Gypsy, a friend of Andrei’s.

  And Elizabeth realized that while she’d lain with a man for the first time, her mother had lain alone, dying…

  That part of the memory shattered the emotions building in her now, and she immediately ended the kiss and whirled back into the present, with its eery wail of human sound. She was shaking and her body was alive in a way that it had only been once before.

  “Lizzie?”

  Appalled to realize that she was in love with Andrei still, Elizabeth drew back and shut him out the best she could. Huddled with her arms wrapped around her middle, shaken to her very core, she stared at him, guilt eating at her now as it had that horrific morning.

  The full moon silvered Andrei’s features, making him suddenly seem distant.

  And relieved.

  When she could find her voice, she asked, “What happened? With the ride,” she was quick to clarify.

  She wanted nothing personal between them……she wanted everything personal between them.

  “The Tilt-a-Whirl wasn’t working properly and I was trying to fix it. Then the ride just started by itself.”

  “No, not by itself. Someone was there,” she said, pointing to the area where she’d seen the shadow.

  Andrei jogged behind the ride, and she followed more slowly. She needed time to regain a calm demeanor. To regain her poise.

  “Whoever did this to you certainly knows how this equipment works,” she mused as she caught up to him. “That wouldn’t be Daddy.”

  Looking around as if he could find who’d stood here just moments ago, he nodded. “You have a point. And the other ride jockeys were kids when your mother was murdered—except for Gregor, who’s a gentle old man—so we can exclude them, as well.”

  Which left whom?

  “How did you stop the ride?” she asked. “How did you move that lever?”

  “Must have been the vibration,” he said.

  “Liar!”

  He didn’t deny it.

  When he crouched low over the ground, she asked, “What are you looking for?” She knew pressing him for a truth he didn’t want to share would do her no good.

  “I’m checking out the footprints.”

  “It all looks like a muddle to me.”

  “That’s because more than one person has been back here.” Suddenly he reached for something and retrieved it.

  “What is it?”

  “A coin.” Rising, he showed her a coin unlike anything she’d ever seen.

  “Not U.S. currency.”

  “It belongs to Milo Vasilli,” Andrei said grimly. “He flips it when he’s nervous.”

  “He would know how to work the ride, wouldn’t he?” she asked.

  “That he would.” Andrei seemed thoughtful as he dropped the coin into his pocket. “What puzzles me is what he might have had against your mother.”

  “Then you think he’s the—?”

  He shrugged. “He would have no reason.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, and Elizabeth wanted in the worst way to close the gap again, to be held in comforting arms for one sweet moment more. But suddenly Andrei turned, took her hand and pulled her along with him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the parking lot.”

  The keening voices…

  The lament grew louder as they drew nearer. In the middle of the open area, a hot orange ball danced and flickered, dark silhouettes surrounding it, swaying to some mournful beat. A bonfire.

  Elizabeth saw one woman take an armful of what looked like bedding and throw it into the flames. And then another tossed in what surely were garments. A third shawls and shoes.

  And then a crash, like that of glass, made Elizabeth stop in her tracks and raised the skin along her spine.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Valonia’s possessions are being burned or destroyed.”

  “Why?”

  “Marime. Contamination. Rom avoid touching their dead and get rid of their possessions.”

  “Everything?”

  “All but what will go into the ground with Valonia—her best clothing, her jewelry, her favorite shawl. Photographs of Carlo and Alessandra and Sabina will also be placed in the coffin with her to accompany her on her spiritual journey to the next world,” Andrei explained. “In some clans, even her trailer would be burned. But because the carnival is just squeaking by, Valonia’s trailer will be sold to some gadjo and the money will be put in a fund to be used where needed. Another Rom would never take the possessions of the dead,” he concluded. “And the clan will avoid speaking her name.”

  “But you have been using it.”

  “Yes.” He didn’t explain.

  Elizabeth asked, “What are they afraid of?”

  “That she’ll return in some supernatural form to haunt them. The thing they fear most is her mulo escaping from the body and seeking revenge on anyone who might have harmed her.”

  “Like her murderer?” Elizabeth whispered, thinking of her own mother.

  As if he could read her mind, Andrei squeezed her hand. They stood there, silent, paying their respects to the dead woman as the clan forever obliterated Valonia’s life on earth.

  ANDREI GAZED around the bonfire but didn’t see Milo. Though a rage was building in him, he was keeping it under control. Rages were to be avoided. Ever since he’d become impotent, his power to move objects with his mind had become stronger, as if all his energies were being unnaturally channeled into that one area. In the grip of rage, he might not be able to control his telekinesis.

  So Milo wasn’t paying his respects to Valonia. And it appeared he was keeping Florica from doing so, as well. No doubt they were in their trailer.

  When the frenzy around the bonfire died down and the clan stood there, heads bowed in prayer, Andrei tugged Elizabeth’s hand and led her away.

  She waited until they were halfway to the trailers before asking, “Where now?”

  “To find Milo Vasilli. Curious that a leader is nowhere to be seen, almost as if he had reason not to be here.”

  “What reason?” Elizabeth asked, but Andrei simply kept going without saying another word.

  Not that he had to. Elizabeth got it.

  First they’d found Milo’s coin behind the ride, and now it seemed he wasn’t mourning Valonia’s death. Because he feared her mulo?

  If so, that would mean…

  Heart pounding, Elizabeth took a deep breath and kept step with Andrei as they entered the trailer area.

  Was it about to happen at last? Would she come face-to-face with the man who murdered her mother?

  Suddenly she heard a sharp crash from inside one of the trailers. Andrei pulled her into the shadows beneath the window of the trailer.

  Through the window drifted a familiar, childlike voice. “You’ve been very, very bad, Papa. Very, very sinful.”

  “I only did what was necessary to protect you, as always!” a man shouted in return.

  Then the trailer door burst open and Milo stalked off into the dark. Still holding Elizabeth’s hand, Andrei started after him. The tinkling sound of jewelry turned them both toward the trailer doorway as the young woman who’d told Elizabeth about the Tilt-a-Whirl stepped outside.

  “Andrei!” she cried, her smile brilliant.

  Andrei hesitated. “Florica, do you know where your father went off to?”

  Florica’s smile died suddenly, and Elizabeth realized the young woman was staring down at her and Andrei’s tightly entwined hands.

  A look of confusion crossed her features, then she giggled and said, “Bad things happen in Les Baux. If you’re not careful, Andrei, something bad could happen to you.”

  “Bad how?” Andrei asked, but Florica had taken a sudden great interest in her hair. She was winding a strand round and round her fingers.

  “Don’t you like my new hairstyle, Andrei?”

/>   “Florica, who would do this bad thing?” he asked. “Your papa?”

  She began chanting, “Papa’s mad…Papa’s bad… Papa’s mad…Papa’s bad…”

  Andrei shook his head. “Come on, Lizzie, we’re not going to get anything more out of her.”

  As he led her off, Elizabeth glanced back over her shoulder. Florica was turning in a circle, seemingly listening to inner voices. Her heart went out to the woman. What had happened, she wondered, to the poor girl’s mind?

  Though the moon was full, it scudded behind a bank of clouds as they cut through the small trailer park and came out in a rough, overgrown area.

  “Do you really think we’ll find Milo?” she asked.

  “Why not? He doesn’t know we’re on his trail.”

  Trail? What trail? The man had disappeared into the night. But Andrei kept going as though he could see in the dark. Indeed, his movements were sleek and catlike, while she was merely clumsy. She tripped once and would have fallen onto her knees if he hadn’t caught her.

  The moon peeked out from the clouds, and she got a good look at their surroundings.

  “I know this place,” she murmured, suddenly chilled even though the night was summer hot and humid. “This is where my mother’s body was found.”

  The ancient live oak was straight ahead. And through the dripping moss, she saw movement near the thick trunk.

  “Milo,” Andrei growled softly, pulling her from the clearing and into the trees.

  Swiftly, they moved forward and Elizabeth heard a low, deep drone—Milo muttering to himself. Perhaps Florica was not the only one in the family who’d lost her mind.

  Milo’s back was to them. They crept closer as the carnival owner reached into a hollow in the trunk of the live oak.

  “What is that?” she whispered as Milo withdrew a packet wrapped in cloth.

  Andrei put a finger to his lips and indicated she should stay put while he moved forward.

  She watched Milo as he unfolded the cloth from around some hard object. Caught for a moment, she didn’t move. The cloth fell to the ground and the object in his hand glinted under the moonlight.

  Her eyes widened as he held up a knife and began keening as loudly as the mourners had earlier.

  “Mama!” she whispered, certain that what he held was the weapon that had been missing all these years—the knife that had been used to kill her mother!

  Chapter Six

  Andrei drew close enough to Milo to see the moongleam off the knife’s sharp edge and the fancy carving on the handle. “So, that’s the murder weapon?”

  “What?” Milo’s head jerked up, and he looked around wildly. “Andrei!”

  Shock altered his voice and twisted his features into someone Andrei didn’t recognize.

  “Yes, Milo,” he said. “I’m still alive and uninjured, no thanks to you. But Theresa Granville wasn’t so lucky. Is that the knife you used to kill her?”

  “I had nothing to do with the gadji’s death!”

  Andrei could see the lie written all over the older man. As a boy, he’d looked up to Milo, who’d seemed to be an honest and fair leader and a devoted father. He’d had such respect for Milo that he’d once told his mother that he wanted to be like him when he grew up.

  He shuddered at the memory.

  The last thing in the world he wanted was to be like the lying, quivering murderer before him.

  Andrei continued to inch forward, while saying, “The murder weapon has been missing all these years. No wonder—you stashed it in the tree right where you killed Theresa Granville.”

  Milo appeared frantic when he said, “Andrei, you don’t understand.”

  “What don’t I understand, Milo? That you’re capable of a crime of passion? Were you jealous of Carlo?” he asked, continuing to advance slowly, carefully. “Did you think you could have Theresa Granville for yourself?”

  “No. It wasn’t like that. I felt nothing for the gadji but—”

  “Bastard!” Lizzie yelled, launching herself past Andrei and straight at Milo.

  “Lizzie, no!”

  Andrei tried to stop her. He was fast, but Milo was faster. Before Andrei’s horrified eyes, the man yanked Lizzie against his body, levered an arm across her chest and held the knife blade to her throat.

  “Stay back, Andrei, or I’ll cut her. I swear I will!”

  Andrei heard the words threatening the woman he loved, and through a haze of red, saw the knife at her throat.

  Holding on tightly to his rage, he said, “You don’t want to do this, Milo.”

  “I don’t, Andrei, but you’re forcing me to do it—you and your cousins and the gadje you’ve brought to our camp. All your poking and prodding has destroyed us. The carnival will never be the same!”

  “The carnival isn’t the same now, Milo. It hasn’t been for ten years. It’s tainted with the blood of Theresa Granville and now Valonia and God knows who else.”

  “Tony,” Milo admitted, his eyes crazed. “He would have told…I couldn’t let him…I can’t let you…or her!”

  The hand holding the knife was shaking with tension. As Andrei concentrated on the weapon, he sensed Milo’s control slipping.

  “Stop now!” Andrei told him. “Too many people know too much. You can’t get away with this.”

  Milo licked his lips and shook his head. “I can,” he said as if trying to convince himself. “I’ll say it was Tony, that he’s the murderer, that he was jealous of Carlo back then…and of you now. That he killed Valonia and put the letter in her hand. No one will be able to prove different. The alligators have got him by now.” Milo adjusted the knife, tip to Lizzie’s flesh, and Andrei felt his rage escalate as Milo said, “Like mother, like daughter.”

  “Nooooo!”

  Andrei flung out his hand and the knife flew from Milo’s with such force that it sunk hilt deep into the live oak and would take great strength to be pulled free.

  Milo shoved Lizzie into him, and as Andrei caught her, she cried, “Don’t let him get away!”

  But the wily carnival owner had a head start, and Andrei knew that the man could quickly lose himself in the swamp. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Concentrating on the limb of a cypress ahead on the path, Andrei brought it down right in front of Milo so that he got tangled in the branches. That stopped Milo long enough for Andrei to catch up to him. He tackled the man to the ground, where they rolled, one over the other.

  The older man was amazingly strong and gave as good as he got. He traded punch for punch, though Andrei was so pumped he didn’t feel the blows. Not until his back was turned to Milo and something came down on his head so hard he saw stars.

  Dazed, he managed to stop himself from falling on his face.

  Just enough time for Milo to get away.

  ELIZABETH WAS at Andrei’s side within seconds of his being hit with the very tree limb he’d brought down with his mind to stop the man. Milo had wielded the tree limb as if it weighed nothing, but she had a hard time moving it to free a stunned Andrei from the tangle of branches.

  “Oh, Andrei, tell me you’re all right,” she begged as she gathered him in her arms. “Open your eyes and speak to me, please.”

  “Lizzie…” His lashes fluttered and lifted. “Milo?”

  “He blindsided you and ran like the coward he is.”

  “We have to go after him.”

  He struggled against her, but she tried to keep him still, saying, “Not so fast. You’re hurt. You might have a concussion.”

  But Andrei pushed himself up, anyway. “I can’t let him get away.” He shook his head as if to clear it, then winced.

  Elizabeth winced, too. “Let the authorities see to him, Andrei,” she pleaded.

  But he wasn’t listening to reason. “Which way? What if he hurts someone else before the authorities catch him?”

  That decided it for her. Feeling sick inside, she pointed. “He went down that path.”

  “I can take it from here.” Andrei was already
moving off. “You go back, call Leon Thibault—”

  “No! I’m not leaving you and don’t bother arguing.” She shadowed him. “Let’s just keeping going before he disappears into the swamp.”

  “I’ll find the bastard first.”

  They moved so swiftly Elizabeth was soon breathing hard. She didn’t know how Andrei was doing it after being clocked with the tree limb. But he seemed steady enough. And as sure of himself as always. And determined.

  Most of all determined.

  He’d been like that as a teenager, she remembered, one of the reasons she’d been drawn to him. He’d known what he wanted and had set out to get it and the world be damned. One of the things he’d wanted had been her. Too bad he didn’t still want her, she thought, remembering that he hadn’t tried going further than kissing her.

  Arriving at a landing, they stopped and looked out over the water. Elizabeth saw the silhouette of a small pirogue shooting up the bayou and of the man sitting in the shallow-hulled craft paddling furiously.

  “Milo?” Elizabeth asked.

  “That must be him.” Andrei was on the move again. “We need to get out there before he disappears down one of the side channels.”

  “What? You mean swim out there?”

  “I mean use one of those.” He indicated two larger pirogues pulled up on the shore near the pier. He glanced back at her and said, “Don’t worry, we’re only going to borrow it.” Then he slid it half into the water.

  Elizabeth looked around, half-afraid that someone would see and accuse them of being thieves. Andrei jerked her into the flat-bottomed boat, which began to rock wildly as he pushed away from shore.

  “Sit,” he said as the pirogue swayed. “And stay still.”

  He climbed into the craft behind her, and a moment later they were off down the bayou, gliding deep into the swamp, cutting through the moonbeams that danced along the water, moving faster than she thought possible with only one person paddling.

  Was Andrei doing it? she wondered.

  Having seen the power of his mind for herself twice that night, she glanced back and checked his action with the double-bladed paddle. Fast, but not fast enough, she swore, to account for their speed.