by Ann Gimpel
Yara had no idea where her courage came from, but she leapt toward Rhiannon. “Let me cut him. It’s my right since I’m who he trapped in a false bargain.”
Rhiannon directed an appraising glance her way that chopped all the way to her soul before extending the blade with its carved bone handle.
Meara, who’d been perched on a piece of rigging, flew at Manandan, talons extended. If there was blood to be had, she clearly wanted a piece of the action. The owls joined the fray, circling the vulture as all three birds took turns chivvying the sea god.
Manandan yanked an arm upward to protect his head from the birds’ sharp beaks. It gave Yara a perfect opportunity to slice her blade through the ball of his thumb. Blood spurted. Along with it came the sound of Rhiannon chanting in Gaelic.
Magic swirled, adding shades of blue to the salt-tinged air. Squawking angrily, Meara and the owl duo got in several good pecks to Manandan’s head before he vanished in a flash of booming light. The gray curtain that had separated the boat from the rest of the landscape dissipated, leaving a stiff breeze and a sea with four-foot waves. They looked like child’s play compared with what they’d fought before.
Yara blinked spray from her eyes, hunting for her mother. The glittering gateway was forming once again, and the goddess turned toward it.
“Wait! You can’t leave,” Yara protested.
Rhiannon turned. “Of course, I can. ’Twas accurate when ye said ye dinna need me.”
Anger surged. “What? You’re going to drop in and out of my life as you choose?”
“Be grateful I showed up this time…daughter. Had I not, ye’d be tied to Manandan forever.”
“If you’re expecting me to—”
“I expect nothing. Until we meet again. And we shall.” Rhiannon twisted and launched herself through the gateway, which closed behind her and the owls clinging to her shoulders.
Yara stared at the spot where her mother had disappeared. A riot of emotion rocked her, from fury to disappointment to astonishment at the reality of Rhiannon’s power.
So much for that comfy mother-daughter chat where she disclosed all the lurid details about her and Manandan.
Yara blew out an annoyed breath. She’d been worse than a fool to believe she’d finally have the kind of mother who cozied up with tea and cakes for intimate little talks.
Stewart walked to her side, and conversations broke out all around them. Meara shifted back to human in a blaze of light so bright, Yara squinched her eyes shut.
“We can begin to shape your power”—Stewart’s brogue washed against her —“so it warns you about those such as Manandan.”
Everything Stewart had said about her being his rushed to the fore, and she ducked from beneath the arm he’d slung around her shoulder. “You presumed far too much below decks. I’m relieved to not be shackled to Manandan, but I’m not yours, either.” Yara winced at how snippy she sounded, but there wasn’t any way to soften her message and still get it across.
“But, lass—” Dismay displaced the relief that had been stenciled into his features.
“But lass, nothing,” she retorted. “Don’t you have a ship to deal with?”
Yara didn’t wait for an answer. Turning, she pelted down the ladder. If she hadn’t caught the handrails on both sides, she’d have fallen to the deck below because she missed the first two steps.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she whirled ready to give Stewart another dose of reality.
“It’s just me,” Tairin said. “I heard all that and thought maybe you might want a sympathetic ear. I was alone—just me and my wolf—for a long time. It’s hard to give up that level of freedom, no matter how drawn you are to someone.”
Kindness in the other woman’s words made it hard to swallow around the thick place that had formed in her throat. Yara fought the press of tears behind her lids. She nodded because it was easier than talking and led the way to her cabin.
Tairin followed her inside and shut the door behind them.
Crossing the small space, Yara walked to the book and flipped it shut. Part of her was curious if Manandan was still inside, but a bigger part didn’t care. A shudder coursed down her spine, and she turned to face Tairin, who’d perched on the end of the lower bunk.
“How could I have been so stupid?” she demanded and crossed her arms under her breasts.
Tairin smiled slightly. “You have to say more than that. Stupid about what?”
“Jesus! Everything. I should’ve known better than to fall for Manandan’s cheesy deal. Once he said I’d do in that patronizing tone, I should’ve said, ‘Oh hell, no,’ and been done with him.”
“From what I pieced together listening on deck”—Tairin waved a hand upward—“you found the sea god in that book of yours. You must trust the book, or you’d never have carted such a heavy, unwieldy thing with you. Because the sea god was in your book, you trusted him the same way you have confidence in the book. It’s a logical extension.”
Yara made a wry face. “You’re right, but what this means is I can’t trust the book anymore. Not totally, anyway.”
“Not the worst thing in the world. Nothing is a sure bet all the time.” Tairin shrugged. “Where does Stewart play into all this?”
Yara rocked back on her heels. “You’re pretty direct.”
The other woman shrugged again. “I’ve been alive for a long time. I’ve found it’s best to get the difficult parts out on the table, shed a little daylight on them.”
Yara bristled. “Stewart’s not a difficult part. He caught me at a weak moment is all. I’m better off without him.”
Tairin got to her feet and angled her head to one side. “You know this how?”
“I’ve always been by myself—” she began.
“Precisely.” Tairin cut in. “And because something has always been a certain way, does that mean it can’t change? We offered you a chance to come with us. You didn’t stew over it very long before you accepted.”
Yara opened her mouth, but Tairin waved her to silence. “Coming with us was a good decision. Best one you could have made under the circumstances. You thought the Dutch were bastards. They’re pikers compared with the Nazis, and they’ll overrun the Netherlands before the summer solstice. Elliott and Meara and Ilona are seers, and they’ve seen it in their vision states.”
“Okay. I get it that change isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” Yara closed her teeth over her lower lip. “But leaving a place I’ve been hiding out for years isn’t in the same league with letting a man into my life.”
“You like Stewart. I sense it.”
Heat began in Yara’s chest and slithered over her head. “I’m attracted to him. I have no idea if there’s anything there beyond wanting to invite him into my bed.”
“How can you find out?”
“Why do I want to?” Yara countered.
Tairin pursed her lips into a thin line. “This is personal, but did you have any men in your life after you left the caravan?”
The heat turned into a fire, and Yara figured she’d turned bright red. “A few,” she mumbled. “Mostly after my sister and her lover left the Netherlands. I tried to steer clear of everyone, but sometimes I just got so lonely I ached for the feel of someone next to me.”
“Did you care about any of them?” Tairin pressed, adding, “Don’t worry if the answer is no. I’m not here to judge you. I considered taking a few men into my bed for exactly the same reason. In the end, I chose not to, but if I had, my heart would have been closed to them.”
“What made the difference in choosing not to?” Yara angled her head, wanting to know.
“I always had my wolf. It meant I was never truly lonely.”
Yara nodded, grateful beyond reckoning that Tairin understood. She’d lived the gypsy life, a life where casual sex wasn’t frowned upon so long as it remained in the shadows.
“It was sort of the same with me,” Yara murmured. “Except I didn’t have a bond animal to keep me warm
at night. The men—and there weren’t all that many—weren’t anything special. They didn’t expect anything beyond my body, and I didn’t want anything else from them, either.”
Tairin nodded. “Yup. That’s easy, right? No worries about getting hurt or abandoned or cheated on.”
Yara sucked in a ragged breath and took a chance. “You and Elliott seem happy.”
A smile bloomed, illuminating Tairin’s exotic beauty. “We are, but I almost kicked him to the gutter before we had a chance. Shifters and Romani aren’t exactly slated soul mates. Both races forbid contact with the other, and for the most ridiculous reason.”
“What is it? I always wondered about that.” Yara made her way to the far side of the bunk and balanced on its edge. “Sit,” she urged. “The boat’s rocking enough standing requires work.”
Tairin grasped a wall hook, but remained on her feet. “The short answer is that long ago a mixed blood shifter mated with a mixed blood Rom. They produced a devil child who murdered hundreds before he was apprehended. Of course, no one understood genetics in those days. They assumed it was a problem that would always plague Rom-shifter matings. No one paid one whit of attention to the witch and other magical blood that were also part of producing the damaged seed.”
“Interesting.” Yara tucked her legs beneath her and leaned against the wall. “I remember all the hush-hush warnings from the older women. They cautioned us about bunches of things. So many, it made the world feel very unsafe, but they harped on shifters more than everything else combined.”
“I had the same experience, except since I was half shifter, those discussions always made me feel naked and exposed. Like my secret was about to be my undoing.”
“Was it?”
A muscle twitched in Tairin’s set jaw. “Not exactly. In the end, I revealed what I was willingly, but that’s another story.
“Back to Stewart. I’ve worked side by side with him for several months. He’s a decent man, and you’ve seen how powerful his magic is. Yeah, he lied about what he was to the caravans, but so did I.”
Yara twisted her mouth into a grimace. “So did I by default. I didn’t know, but I didn’t dig too deep, either.”
“I asked before, and you hedged. What do you feel for Stewart?”
“I honestly don’t know.” The memory of being crushed against him raced back, and heat suffused her face again. To avoid saying more, she asked a question. “Did you have any reservations about Elliott, beyond him being Romani?”
“Oh my goodness, yes.” It was Tairin’s turn to blush. “I came very close to closing the door to him permanently.”
“What changed your mind?” Yara bent toward Tairin, not wanting to miss any part of her answer. Words or nuances.
“My wolf. And me too, I suppose. Elliott had been attacked by a gravely wounded vampire intent on finding another vessel so he wouldn’t die. I couldn’t let him join the damned, and my wolf said there was a way to save him. Father tried to hold me back, said it was too dangerous, but by then I’d shifted and taken off after Elliott.”
Tairin stopped to draw a breath. “Elliott knew he wasn’t strong enough to defeat the vampire, so while he was still more man than vampire he ran toward a precipice, intent on destroying himself by jumping off the edge.”
Yara’s throat tightened. “By the goddess! What did you do?”
“It was more my wolf than me. It located a wolf willing to bond with Elliott, and we jumped on him and bit him before he made the edge of the cliff. Even then, it was nip and tuck and took all Meara’s magic to strengthen Elliott’s wolf enough for him to shift.”
“What would have happened if he couldn’t?”
“I’d have been dragged into darkness with him. My wolf and I both. His wolf too.” Sadness streamed from Tairin. “That would have been the worst part. The bond animals are good and pure and beautiful. To become the cause of their suffering for all eternity would have been too much to bear.”
“It was your wolf’s idea,” Yara began, wishing she had a bond animal to help her with the hard decisions.
“That doesn’t mean it stopped being my job to keep us both safe.” Tairin edged toward the door, but stopped on the near side of it. “I can’t make your choices for you, but I hope you give Stewart a chance. It’s a lonely life.” She slipped out the door, latching it softly behind her, before Yara could reply.
Lurching to her feet, she paced from one side of the cabin to the other cataloguing pros and cons. It didn’t take long before she understood how profoundly frightened she was of anything that looked like an emotional commitment.
“Okay.” She spoke out loud to steady herself. “Now that I know what a coward I am, the question is whether I’m willing to do anything to change it.”
She swallowed hard. Even if she was, she’d been bitchy enough maybe he’d already written her off.
Chapter 13
Night came and went, followed by much of the following day. Stewart made a point of finding things to busy himself with on deck. He hadn’t wanted to run into Yara, and apparently she felt the same because she hadn’t poked her head out since telling him he had a ship to tend to.
He pressed his lips into a tight line, tasting salt from the ever-present spray. So far, they’d had decent winds. Absent anything unexpected—and he hadn’t sensed a thing to suggest adverse weather—they’d make port sometime tomorrow. They’d been fortunate demons hadn’t staged a return visit to exact revenge. By now, whoever sent them surely knew they hadn’t been successful retrieving the gold, and they must be frantic and furious.
A lethal combination, if ever there was one, but he didn’t dwell on that.
He checked the rigging, adding more canvas at a nod from Vreis who stood at the helm. He, Cadr, and Vreis had taken turns as helmsman, with Jamal, Gregor, and Elliott hanging about anxious to learn the fine points of sailing. Back in bird form, Meara squawked encouragement from the rigging. Or maybe it was criticism. If she’d wanted to be understood, she’d have switched to telepathy, and she hadn’t been so inclined.
Days were short this time of year. A gray-toned sunset splashed across the western horizon. Not particularly colorful, but at least it wasn’t raining, and the wind was manageable.
Yara’s absence bothered him. A lot. It had taken all his considerable self-discipline not to hunt her down for a heart-to-heart. The only reason he hadn’t was because he couldn’t stand to have her repeat her message that he’d presumed too much.
Aye, if I give her a wee bit of time to mull things over, things may improve.
Or not.
Her absence argued for the or not side of things. She was outspoken enough she’d have let him know if she changed her mind. He ground his teeth together. There it was. When he next laid eyes on her, the wisest path would be to give her plenty of space. No reason to make the lass even more uncomfortable than she already was, regardless of the pain carving its way through him.
Alone had become a way of life, and it wasn’t about to change.
As he thought about it, Rhiannon hadn’t acknowledged him, either. He didn’t consider what that might mean until long after she’d left. It was always possible she hadn’t seen him. She’d been focused on Manandan and Yara, but the gods weren’t limited in the same way humans—even humans with magic—were.
Omnipotent and invincible, the gods might not choose to act on knowledge, but it was there for the taking if they focused their attention on it.
I’m overthinking this. She knew I was there, but ’twasn’t a situation for exchanging pleasantries. Besides, if she realized what happened betwixt Yara and me below decks and dinna approve, I’d be dead.
The backhanded reassurance didn’t wipe away his concerns. Rhiannon’s parting words to Yara had been that they’d meet again, which meant something was simmering and about to unfold…
He stared at the vulture. She was a seer. Perhaps she knew more than she’d shared. “Meara. I have a question.”
She cocked
her head to one side looking like a garden variety vulture.
“Have ye scryed our future lately?”
The bird squawked and bobbed its head.
Stewart had finished with the sail, so he trotted closer to the vulture. “Well? What did ye uncover?”
With a toss of her head and excessive feather rustling, Meara transitioned to her human form in a blaze of brilliance. Stewart was ready for the starburst of light and looked away before her transformation seared his corneas.
Meara’s long hair trailed behind her, and she wore a solemn expression with pinched places in the corners of her amber eyes. “I need to locate Ilona and Elliott. If our combined power yields the same future as my individual scrying, then I will be more inclined to discuss this.”
“I’m here.” Elliott strode to where they stood. “I heard that. Want me to hunt down Ilona?”
“I can,” Jamal called from over by the wheel. “Be right back. She and Yara and Tairin have been working on a sewing project.” He loped across the deck toward a stairwell.
Aron edged out of a shadowed alcove. “Excellent! I’ll stand in for Jamal while he’s gone.”
Vreis ruffled the lad’s dark hair. “Step right up and place your hands on the wheel where mine are.”
“Really?” Excitement thrummed through Aron’s voice, and he wrapped his slender hands around the polished wood.
The boy’s delight heartened Stewart. Pain and terror and disillusionment dragged at the soul until all a person saw was bleakness. The lad had lived through hell, but it hadn’t dimmed his spirit. Perhaps it was a sign hope hadn’t died out of the world, no matter how grim things appeared.
He focused his gaze on Meara. Probing her with magic was pointless. If she had something she wanted to hide, he’d never unearth it.
As if she’d determined his line of thought, she drew her brows together and met his direct stare. “If you’re about to inquire why I was wasting time in bird form when I could have been fine-tuning my take on our future, don’t bother.”
