Tarnished Journey: Historical Paranormal Romance (Soul Dance Book 4)

by Ann Gimpel

  It might not mean anything, but Stewart clung to it anyway as a good omen.

  Like most of his Romani companions, he’d never bothered to learn much about cars. He could drive one in a pinch, but he far preferred not to. Feeling out of his league, he peered at the engine. Rust streaked it and circled the spark plug holes. Maybe a spot of directed magic might help.

  “Stand back,” he said.

  “What do you have in mind?” the bear shifter asked. “I was about to see if any of the rest of these junkers”—he spread his arms wide—“used the same type of plug, except I don’t have any tools. Anybody’s guess whether whoever used to live here left any.”

  “What I had in mind was cleaning the rust off,” Stewart replied.

  “Might be all that’s holding it together.” The shifter smothered a snort, and then added, “Don’t mind me. It’s definitely worth a try. If we can fix the sparking problem, this thing should roll.”

  “Does your magic work on manmade, inert materials?” Meara quirked a skeptical brow. “Mine doesn’t.”

  He didn’t know the answer, but didn’t want to give up before they’d even begun, so he extended his hands and pushed exploratory bursts of power outward, saying, “Let’s find out.”

  Yara stepped to his side. He felt a jolt at the base of his spine when her magic joined his. No matter what misunderstandings had passed between them, their power was made to be joined. The vanilla-pine smell unique to her rose around them, and he inhaled hungrily. Yara’s ability stunned him and was like a balm to his soul at the same time.

  “Do you think we could reach through the metal casing and see how corroded the sparkplug tips are?” she asked.

  “I doona see why not, but let’s clean what we can see first.”

  Rust turned to a fine powder as they worked, and the bear shifter blew it aside, clearing residue away with his thick, stubby fingers.

  “Deeper,” Yara urged. “My magic’s strong linked to yours.”

  Stewart nodded. “Aye, lassie. Worst that will happen is the metal will defeat our efforts.”

  Magic swelled, pulsing around them in waves that emanated from him and Yara. His skin prickled from the surfeit of energy, and he closed his earth eyes, focusing his third eye on the chunk of metal in front of them. At first, all he saw was the rectangular outline of the newly clean engine.

  Yara closed a hand around his lower arm. The contact boosted their combined spell, and the gray metal developed a translucent aspect. If he could see through it, maybe working magic wasn’t as farfetched as he’d believed.

  Stewart chided himself. Trusting your ability was half the battle. Visualize. Believe. Expect results. He knew the drill, but he hadn’t actually expected to be able to reach inside the engine block. Before he could run with this new development, Yara snapped up their magic and focused it on the line of spark plugs. Each one flared beneath her ministrations.

  “Damn!” the bear shifter muttered. “They’re sparking. This might work after all.”

  “Is that all of them?” Yara’s voice sounded strained, and she didn’t turn her head to look at the bear shifter.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  Yara let go of Stewart’s arm and cut the flow of their combined magic. He loved the feel of her inside his magical center, but trying to hold her close when she clearly wanted to leave was wrong. He reeled in his power and stepped back.

  The bear shifter slid behind the wheel and changed a few settings. The engine coughed and sputtered before stumbling to life.

  Meara clapped her hands together. “I should have had more faith. I didn’t believe it was possible to alter one of those things with magic.”

  “Why not?” Yara send a sidelong glance at the vulture shifter.

  “Our magic was forged in a time before machinery existed. I’ve never doubted my ability when it came to modifying anything in the natural world, but I’ve never tested it on something like that.” She pointed at the car. Its engine still sputtered, but it was moving toward smoother operation.

  The bear shifter stuck his head out the door. “We’re in luck. Gas tank’s mostly full. Get in. We’re leaving.”

  “Eh, I’m still flying,” Meara said. “Never did develop a fondness for cars.” Light flashed. Before it cleared, the vulture was airborne, her wings beating hard.

  Yara slid into the front seat. Stewart started to get into the back, but someone had removed the seat cushions. The only thing in the space was mouse nests, the mice having long since departed.

  Yara glanced over one shoulder. “Come on up here,” she said. “You don’t want to sit on the frame.”

  He slammed the back door, and got in next to Yara, sandwiching her between himself and the bear shifter. The car started rolling before he secured the door. “How’d ye come to know so much about cars?” he asked her. “Most Romani don’t.”

  She turned a wry smile his way. “True enough. Cars came in handy after I left the caravan. I’ve slept in deserted ones and figured out how to make them run when they were more convenient than walking.”

  He felt impressed by her ingenuity and flexibility, but awkward saying so. They weren’t alone, and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable if the conversation turned too personal.

  The bear shifter saved him from further rumination by asking, “What happens after we reach Ben Nevis?”

  “Och, I wish I had an answer for that. The faery folk will meet us there. Mayhap a Celt or two. We’ll follow the track to Ben Nevis’s summit. From that point, we wait.”

  “Why?” the bear shifter persisted.

  “What’s your name?” Yara broke in.

  The man grinned, and it lit up his austere features. “Rylan.”

  “Thanks.” Yara grinned back. “It beats calling you the bear shifter in my mind.”

  Rylan turned his attention back to Stewart. “Why should we wait?” he demanded. “The strongest defense has always been a staunch offense.”

  “True enough.” Stewart drew in a breath, blew it out, and did it once more. “For one thing, I’m not certain where to find our enemies. Vampires are widespread. Demons mostly live in Hell, which isna a place we can get to easily.”

  “I was part of the group that took on the vampire nest outside Munich,” the bear shifter said. His words were calm, but his knuckles whitened where he clutched the steering wheel. “It required planning and split-second timing. We formed groups of five, and each targeted one vampire. More than that, we practiced working together the day before. In retrospect, it might not have taken all five of us per vampire. Three or four would have done it, but the timing was critical. So was each group having a silver spike. The Rom used amulets to offer some protection from vampire mind control. We had them too in hopes holy water and consecrated earth would slow the vampires down.”

  He stopped to take a measured breath, and Stewart stepped into the silence. “What ye’re saying is we’re not prepared to face off against more than a handful of vampires, never mind demons.”

  Rylan nodded once. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, but waiting may not be in our best interest. Once we have a solid plan, we need to launch an attack. Meara put out a call to shifters in this country. I’m hoping many will join us. It’s hard to refuse Meara. She has a long memory, and she knows all the other first shifters.”

  Stewart brightened. The shifter call to arms was an unexpected piece of good news, one he hadn’t anticipated. “Many thanks for letting me know. The more of us, the better our chances are.”

  “Do you really believe so?” Yara asked.

  “Aye, lass, that I do. Why would ye think otherwise?”

  She drew her brows into a thoughtful expression. “Well, my caravan disbanded because too many of us in one spot posed a problem. In one way, it’s not quite the same, yet in another it is. We lost the strength we had in sheer numbers, but…”

  Yara shook her head. “I’m babbling. It’s what I do when I’m worried.”

  He placed a
hand over her thigh but removed it quickly. He’d meant to comfort her, but the heat from her body seared him. To mask his discomfort, he started talking. “Your assessment is accurate so far as it goes. Small groups have an easier time escaping detection, but that willna be our goal.”

  “Say more,” Rylan urged.

  Stewart debated a watered-down version of the truth, but that wasn’t how it worked with allies. You were straight with them.

  “What I suspect,” he began selecting his words with care, “is that the enemy sees us as weak. ’Tis why they only sent three demons to intercept the ship.”

  “They doubled the number next time when we were almost to port,” Yara muttered.

  “Because they doona like to lose,” Stewart retorted. “Let’s think this through. Vampires canna function near water. They’re the demons’ primary ally. After the demons’ last fiasco, they must have decided to wait and take us on once we landed. That way, they’d be able to leverage their vampire associates.”

  “Do you know that for certain?” Rylan demanded.

  “Nay. Of course not. ’Tis conjecture, but I’ve spent enough years battling darkness, I understand how they reason. They’ll not make the same mistake of being undermanned a third time.” Stewart tapped the windshield. “Angle left at this intersection.”

  He took in the almost empty countryside as they rolled along. Once this part of Scotland had been a bustling agricultural center. What had happened to it? The empty farm they’d taken the cars from appeared to be representative of a declining population.

  “Where’d everyone go?” Yara’s question mirrored his thoughts.

  “I have no idea.”

  “We’re coming to a village,” Rylan noted. “With people. Maybe they thought it would be safer to live close together in case the Nazis launched an offensive.”

  “Maybe so,” Stewart muttered. He tried to raise the Celtic gods again, but no one answered. The car probably muted his magic, but they hadn’t been inclined to reply when he’d been on foot, either.

  A thought occurred to him, and he asked Yara, “Have ye heard aught from Rhiannon since we left the ship behind?”

  She turned her eyes on him, full violet in this light, and nodded once but didn’t add words to the gesture.

  “Did she say she’d help us?” he prodded.

  “I have no idea. The topic didn’t come up.” Yara chewed on her lower lip. “She may be my mother, but I don’t have any kind of a relationship with her. She shows up when she chooses, and departs just as fast.”

  “Aye, but—”

  Yara made a chopping motion with one hand. “If she shows up again, I’ll make a point of asking. We’d do better using this time to plan our offensive. At least then we’ll have a strategy we can share with everyone else when we’re all together.”

  “First, we need to figure out who has silver and amulets,” Rylan said.

  “None in this car,” Yara murmured and cast a pointed look Stewart’s way.

  Her criticism hit home. He could have planned their flight across Scotland better, a fact she’d been quick to remind him of. Apparently, he’d been wrong about her having forgiven him.

  “We should be fine until we get to the bottom of the Ben Nevis track,” he countered, doing his best not to sound defensive. “Shouldn’t take more than another hour or so.”

  “Do you think the vampires and demons will be waiting there, so they can pick us off one by one?” Yara asked. Color drained from her face, leaving a resolute expression that tugged at his heart.

  “’Twould be a good tactical decision on their part,” Stewart replied, “but I doona believe they’re that organized—or that smart. Like as not, they’re still trying to locate us. I’m hoping we’ll have time to traverse the distance to the top.”

  “If we were driving into an ambush, Meara would have told me,” Rylan said, and then added, “How far it is to the top of Ben Nevis?”

  “Four miles. Stone huts sit atop the mountain, as do the entrances to several cave systems.”

  The car jolted forward as Rylan laid on the gas. “We’ll be the last car to arrive,” he explained. “I just contacted Meara, and she’ll make certain everyone starts up the track and doesn’t wait for us.”

  “Since ye’re talking with her,” Stewart cut in, “have someone leave at least one amulet and one silver stake. They can mark the location with a magical beacon.”

  “Done.”

  The highway widened and grew busier, which made sense. The Highlands had always been a popular destination. Stewart muted their presence with cloaking spells. The fewer people who remembered their dented-up car, the better.

  “Want some help?” Yara asked. Her body pressed against his from thigh to knee in their cramped quarters. He’d been doing his damnedest not to pay attention—or react to—her proximity, but it was a losing battle.

  “Sure.”

  Her magic slid seamlessly in with his. Clearly, they were becoming more proficient working as a team. Soon, they’d be in the thick of things. Stewart vowed to open his heart to her while he could, no matter what kind of a blundering fool he made of himself. As soon as they were walking uphill, he’d do everything he could to make certain she understood how important she was to him.

  The rational portion of his mind—the sector that had always had the upper hand—tried to talk him out of it, but he didn’t listen. Listening to advice got him into this mess. From now on, he’d follow his instincts.

  And his heart.

  Chapter 18

  Yara marveled at how powerful she and Stewart were when their magic was conjoined. She’d mostly worked alone in the caravan, and her sister had been weak as a kitten when it came to magic. It felt right sitting next to Stewart with their power woven together. Her ability enhanced his, and the reverse was true as well. Rhiannon had been clear he was the man for her, and Meara’s explanation went a long way toward clearing her hurt feelings from Stewart’s behavior in the ship’s hold.

  They needed to talk, but for that they needed privacy.

  Stewart had been feeding Rylan directions as they passed through the outskirts of Fort William. They’d turned off onto a side road, and she saw the other two cars a few hundred yards away.

  Rylan pulled up behind them. “Excellent,” he said, pocketed the keys, and pushed his door open. It creaked on rusty hinges, but the vehicle had done well for them.

  Stewart withdrew the spell he’d kept around them. The place her magic dwelt felt empty, incomplete, without it.

  “Let’s get moving,” he said and piled out the passenger door with her right behind him.

  Meara’s winged form came into view, flying slowly. Screeching, she flew in gradually widening circles as she gained altitude.

  Rylan must have talked with her because he loped a short way up the trail and bent to retrieve something from beneath a bush.

  Must be the silver stake and amulet.

  Yara hurried to where he stood waiting for them as he tucked the items into pockets in his jacket. “Meara says the weather’s really going to hell above the lake.” He eyed Stewart. “I’m guessing you know where that is.”

  “Aye, that I do.”

  The ground around them heaved and rolled, reminding her of the ship. Magic surged, and she dropped the sack she’d carted ever since she left the ship to extend her hands. Balance was a challenge, and she rocked from foot to foot to remain upright.

  “’Tis just the faery folk. Sheathe your power.” Stewart snatched up the bag and slung it over one shoulder. “Come on.”

  A golden glow shaped itself into a gateway, the air shimmered with an abundance of power, and Fae poured through. Far more than there’d been earlier. Something about the little folk made Yara’s heart lighter. Dark Fae followed, and the mass of their magic surged uphill, carrying everyone with it. A whooshing sound drew her attention in time to see the portal whisk shut as if it had never existed.

  “Where’d they come from?” she asked, addi
ng, “Or maybe a better question would be how they traveled here.”

  “They bide in the hills and barrows beneath Scotland—Ireland and northern England too,” Stewart replied.

  “Have you ever been there?” The concept of a subterranean network that linked entire countries via an enchanted tunnel system fascinated her.

  He smiled softly. “Nay, lassie. I’m a wee bit too big to fit, even if I were invited, which I havena been.”

  She thought about her sister. Maybe once they were done here, she could track Ilse down. Stewart trotted on one side of her with Rylan on the other. No chance for the privacy she’d hoped for with Stewart. Not yet, anyway.

  My total focus should be on the battle, she chided herself.

  She’d been quick to project her thoughts beyond the battle to locating her sister, but the reality was she might not live out the day. Yara scrunched her hands into fists. They had to win. If they didn’t, it would be the beginning of a long, downhill slide for Earth and all its inhabitants—magical and otherwise.

  They moved quickly up the rocky path. It was wide enough to accommodate carts, and she guessed it had been used by farmers and ranchers for hundreds of years. No one said much. The Fae’s magic surrounded them. It held a healing, hypnotic quality, and she had to pay attention or she’d have tossed vigilance aside in favor of the childlike innocence surrounding the faeries.

  “They’re nothing like what they appear.” Stewart spoke low, placing his mouth close to her ear.

  Her head whipped around. “You were in my mind.”

  A sheepish expression twisted his stark features. “Aye, guilty as charged.”

  She wanted to reach for his hand, but Rylan was right next to her. Instead she said, “It’s all right. I wasn’t complaining. What did you mean about—?”

  He shook his head and switched to telepathy. “They may look like children. Like innocents, but they purposely deploy magic to lull people into underestimating them. They’ve lived off humans for hundreds of years. One of the ways they’ve accomplished that is by appearing meek and nonthreatening.”