Tarnished Prophecy: Shifter Paranormal Romance (Soul Dance Book 3)

by Ann Gimpel

  “So all we have to do is cross the border,” Ilona muttered. “That’s a pretty big hurdle.”

  “It’s not any riskier than transiting Germany north to south again,” Jamal countered. “Particularly since vampires have certainly discovered the one we killed by now. Our scents are all over it. They’ll be furious, hell-bent on revenge. In truth, I’m surprised they haven’t caught up.”

  Aron skinned his lips back from his teeth. “You heard the vampire. He called the prison camp a smorgasbord. They’ll come after us, but not until they can’t drink any more blood.” The corners of his mouth twisted into a disgusted moue. “They don’t like it nearly as well once it’s congealed.”

  “So we might have bought ourselves a few hours.” Ilona fisted a hand and pounded it into a tree.

  “What?” Meara raised her silver-gray brows. “There’s more to this vampire story. Tell me.”

  “Jamal didn’t say anything when you first got here, but the vampire caught Aron up in thrall. We have to shield him—or teach him how to shield himself so it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Not liking the sound of that.” Meara stalked in front of Aron. “I’m going to lay my hands on you. You will remain absolutely still.”

  “I understand.” Aron’s tone was solemn, and he straightened his spine.

  Jamal knew the feel of Meara’s power, daunting and reassuring all at the same time. It built and eddied around Aron, creating a pulsating vortex. Unlike the solid red whirlwind she’d created around Elliott while battling to save his life, this one was translucent and shaded from green to pale blue.

  Ilona edged next to Jamal and gripped his hand. “What’s she doing?” Rather than telepathy, her voice was a faint whisper next to his ear.

  “Not sure,” he whispered back. “Judging from the colors, cleansing any remaining vampire taint.”

  As he watched, fang marks rose on Aron’s neck, outlined against his tanned skin. Meara blew on them, and they disappeared, only to be replaced by another set. Horrified fascination filled Jamal as the twin puncture marks appeared again and again.

  “Oh my God! How many times did they feed from him?” Gregor said from behind them, clearly watching too.

  Jamal grasped Ilona’s hand harder. This must be hell for her, seeing hard evidence of her brother’s abuse. That he’d survived was little shy of a miracle. Gradually, Meara’s power receded. She moved her hands from the crown of Aron’s head to his feet before straightening and folding her arms beneath her breasts atop her curtain of hair.

  Aron bowed his head. “Thank you. I feel the difference. I wasn’t aware of how deep they’d gotten their slimy talons into me.”

  The corners of Meara’s mouth twitched. “Watch that talon talk, you’ll provoke my vulture.”

  “Sorry. Poor choice of words.” He raised his clear, gray eyes and looked at her. “How about a simple thank you?”

  “Accepted.” She leveled her discerning gaze on him. “Young man. You will not be immune to vampire mind control. No Romani is. The part I altered is this. They’ll no longer be able to immobilize you from fifty paces and lure you with honeyed words about what an honor it is to be their next meal.”

  Aron looked from Jamal to Ilona to Gregor. “The vampires didn’t stop you in your tracks. Why?”

  “Shifters have built in safeguards. Vampires can’t control us with their minds. Likely it’s why they’ve pretty much left us alone,” Gregor replied.

  “So it would be better to be like you.”

  Meara shook a finger at him. “No. That’s flawed thinking. We need every type of magic wielder. We strengthen each other. If every Rom became a shifter, the dynamic balance of magic in the world would be altered—with disastrous consequences. The goddess created all of us, which means we each have a role to play.”

  The deep rumble of a truck moving slowly toward them caught at the edge of Jamal’s sensitive hearing. Soon there’d be a few more of them, and there was safety in numbers.

  “Did we sustain any losses today?” he asked Meara.

  “Yes. A bear shifter and a raven. They’d entered one of the guards’ barracks. Thought they’d killed everyone, and they were on their way out when the room exploded, trapping them.” The corners of Meara’s eyes pinched with sorrow. “I saw it through the raven’s mind. It was a grenade. The guard who detonated it died along with them, but that’s not any comfort. My shifters are worth a thousand of any Nazi.”

  Gregor murmured the shifter incantation for the dead. Brief and to the point, it asked the goddess to speed them to their afterlife. Jamal and Meara joined in.

  “Come on.” Meara motioned. “Let’s go meet that truck. The last half mile of road in here is just as bad as what’s beneath our feet.”

  “You’ll have to teach me your prayers. Like the one you just invoked for your dead,” Ilona said as she walked up the deeply rutted dirt road next to Jamal. Puddles overflowed some of the ruts. “Do you have lore books like the Rom?”

  He shook his head. “Not so much. Most of our tradition is passed on orally. For now, it’s more important for you to learn how to control your new mix of magics. Things like invocations can come later.”

  She sent a crooked half grin skittering his way. “Yeah, probably right.” She angled her head to one side. “My wolf just informed me it will help.”

  “Of course it will.”

  “I want one,” Aron said. “It’d be like the best imaginary playmate of all time. One that made your magic strong and could turn you into—”

  “Weren’t you listening to Meara?” Ilona looked askance at Aron.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s still…” He started over. “I’ll focus on making my magic as strong as I can.”

  “Good plan.” Jamal ruffled his long hair.

  The boy’s mother had been dead for a year. And his father had been gone for six. Jamal wouldn’t be intrusive about things since Aron didn’t need an overbearing parent, but he made a silent vow to help the young Rom when and where he could.

  Ilona squeezed the hand he still held. “Thank you,” she said into his mind, and he knew she’d been eavesdropping on his thoughts.

  Footsteps pelted down the track toward them. Jamal extended magic and recognized Nivkh and Stewart. Meara, who was ahead, had probably already met up with them.

  “Hurry,” she called.

  Jamal broke into a run. Ilona and Aron kept pace. Gregor pulled around them, sprinting ahead. The truck idled just beyond, and Jamal followed everyone into its high bed. By the time he made certain Ilona and Aron were safely inside, the truck was already rolling. He leapt into it, letting its canvas sides down to hide them from casual observers. Not that anyone would be in this forest, but the road had to lead to a more populated area.

  Michael was in the truck, along with Elliott, Tairin, Cadr, Vreis, and several shifters and Rom Jamal didn’t know. Tairin smiled warmly at him. Elliott did too. Jamal settled atop a stack of folded blankets and asked, “When will we meet up with the others?”

  “We won’t. Each truck is on its own getting across the border,” Stewart answered and made a sour face. “We dinna plan this over well. One of us—” he pointed at Meara, Nivkh, Elliott, and Stewart “—should have been in each truck. That way each of our vehicles would have contained a strong magic-wielder.”

  “Nothing to be done about it now,” Nivkh said.

  Jamal buried his thoughts. It would take more than magical strength to see all of them safely out of Germany. Luck would play a part. So would cunning and outthinking their many adversaries.

  Vampires. Nazis. And the odd German citizen anxious to collect a bounty for helping the Reich.

  Meara looked up from where she sat cross-legged, her back leaning against a hay bale that somehow hadn’t gotten transferred to feed the horses. It seemed as if they’d left the protective barrier several lifetimes ago, but it had been less than a week.

  “You are correct that we have many adversaries,” Meara said. “But
we also have a few tricks up our sleeves. If we manage to cross the border, our biggest problem will be vampires. They know no borders.”

  “Let me outline what I have in mind,” Stewart said. “The only ones here who’ve heard my full plan are Cadr, Vreis, Meara, Michael, and Nivkh.”

  Jamal leaned closer, not wanting to miss so much as a single detail.

  “Do ye all speak Gaelic?”

  A mixture of yesses and noes rose from the group.

  “Och aye, ’twould be a wee bit safer, but ’tis more important that ye all understand fully.” He blew out a long breath and placed his hands on his folded knees. “The British Isles are friendlier to magical workings than Europe. ’Tis easier to cast spells there, and our magical roots are more available. I doona believe the Germans will occupy England, Scotland, or Ireland.

  “This decision to leave wasna lightly come by. I’m worried about my caravan, and Michael holds concerns about his as well. If they remain hidden beyond the barrier, they may well be able to wait out the war without incident.”

  “I sent one of my birds to deliver that message,” Meara spoke up.

  “Aye, and I am verra grateful.” Stewart turned his dark gaze her way.

  “As am I,” Michael concurred.

  “I trust I can do more good on the far side of the North Sea than sitting watch over my caravan. I hope ’tisn’t a decision I come to regret.” Stewart raked one hand through hair that had come half-unbraided. “Moving forward, ’tis my belief—but I may well be wrong—that we can link to the power inherent in the British Isles. Mayhap even scare up some of the little folk to aid us in our efforts, or the Fae, if they’re not still embroiled feuding with their dark cousins.”

  “My brother and I can help with that,” Cadr said, his tone solemn.

  “Aye, I used to know a cadre of Fae. I’m certain they’ll still be where I remember in their barrows beneath the Scottish Highlands,” Vreis murmured.

  “Thank you,” Stewart replied. “Reinforcements for our efforts are more available there than here. Yet ’tis a gamble. Any who doona wish to leave Europe are free to return to the encampment behind the barrier or any other place of your choosing. I had this same conversation, albeit an abbreviated version, with everyone afore their trucks left.”

  “Do you have any idea how many opted to remain in Germany?” Elliott asked.

  “A handful. They sorted themselves into one truck. More will leave us in the Netherlands. A place free from Nazi occupation was appealing enough to many that they were willing to risk the border.”

  He straightened his spine. “Questions?”

  Stewart waited for several minutes before he said, “We’re in uncharted waters. I’ll depend on all of you to help craft sound decisions as we move forward.”

  The vote of confidence from the Scotsman warmed Jamal.

  The truck wasn’t swaying as much, which meant they’d returned to better road. It also meant their chances of being stopped went up. “How long will it take to get to the border?” he asked.

  “Depends how many times we’re waylaid,” Meara replied. “If all goes well, we should be there by tomorrow night. We have to cross at night,” she went on. “I’ve played it both ways. Vampires are strongest then, but if we draw enough magic to render all of us invisible for a daytime crossing, we’ll draw their attention too.”

  “Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t,” Tairin muttered.

  “Indeed,” Elliott chimed in.

  The truck rolled to a stop, and Jamal girded himself. Had something gone wrong already? Was a pack of vampires bearing down on them? He sent magic spiraling outward, but didn’t sense anything amiss.

  The driver, another bear shifter wearing a stolen German uniform rolled back a corner of the canvas. “This is a good place to stop,” he announced. “Another few miles, and we’ll be on the main road through the mountains. Nowhere to pull off then for a very long time. We can rest up and get moving once it’s dark.”

  Meara clapped her hands together. “Shifters! Hunt your food. It will save stealing provisions. Get enough for the Rom here too.”

  Jamal followed Ilona and Aron outside. The afternoon was chilly, but it wasn’t raining. “Wish I could hunt with you guys,” Aron said.

  “You can, and in a way you’re really good at.” Ilona smiled at her brother. “I hear a creek. It can’t be more than a few yards away. “How about catching us some fish? We can cook them along with whatever Jamal and I hunt down.”

  “Thanks, Sissy. Will do.” His face wreathed in smiles, Aron loped toward the sound of rushing water.

  “Ready to hunt?” Jamal asked.

  “Soon. Maybe we could walk a little first?”

  He wrapped an arm around her. “Sure. Anything you’d like, liebchen.”

  When they were a little way from the others, she turned to him. “Thank you for accepting Aron. It means a lot to me. He never really spent much time with his father, and Valentin was a shitty human being, a lousy caravan leader, and scarcely someone for a young boy to look up to. It wasn’t just because he liked men. He could’ve had an eye for the ladies. It wouldn’t have mattered. He was still a small-minded bigot.”

  “You don’t have to thank me.” Jamal held her against him. “We’re a family. I never got to see Tairin through to adulthood. It’s like the goddess has given me a second chance.” He leaned close, inhaling her scent. “Are we going to Britain with Meara and Stewart and the rest of them?”

  “Yes. It feels right to me. When I get a chance, I’ll see if I can’t use my seer gift and gather more information.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Is that what you want? I should have asked you first.”

  “It feels like the right path to me too. Nothing is certain, Ilona, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I love you, and no matter what the next months and years bring, they’ll be brighter because we’re together.”

  Her eyes sheened with tears, and she clung to him. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. I went from having nothing to having everything.”

  “You never had nothing.” He tilted her chin up and lost himself in the wonder of her changing eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve always had yourself. You’re one strong woman, darling. It’s why I was drawn to you. Why I fell in love with you.”

  “I hate to break up the love fest,” his wolf inserted dryly, “but are we ever going to hunt? I’m hungry.”

  “I am too,” Ilona’s wolf said, punctuating its words with a howl.

  Jamal chuckled. “You heard them. Better get those clothes off fast. Before they chew us to bits from the inside out.”

  “You just want to see me naked.”

  “Yeah that too.”

  In a flurry of light and magic, they left their clothing draped over a dry tree branch, summoned magic, and let their wolves loose.

  You’ve reached the end of Tarnished Prophecy. The next book, Tarnished Journey, Soul Dance Book Four, begins where this one left off. Everyone still has to escape Germany, and it’s possible Stewart might find a love of his very own. Read on for a sample.

  About the Author

  Ann Gimpel is a USA Today bestselling author. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in webzines, magazines, and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from urban fantasy to paranormal romance to science fiction. Once upon a time, she nurtured clients. Now she nurtures dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against reality. When she’s not writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and dirty with her camera. She’s published more than 50 books to date, with several more planned for 2017 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren, and wolf hybrids round out her family.

  Keep up with her at www.anngimpel.com or http://anngimpel.blogspot.com

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  Tarnished Journey, Chapter One

  Stewart Macleod paced in a rough circle, skirting the collection of shifters and Romani gathered in small groups. He’d declared a rest break, but everyone was too keyed up to sleep. A few of the shifters were combing the forest for food for the rest of them. The shriek of a vulture on the hunt told him Meara wasn’t far away. It had been drizzling all day, and now fog was moving in. He encouraged it with a bit of magic. Anything that would shield their presence might help.

  They’d avoided Hannover and Osnabrück as they transited the northern portion of Germany, selecting backroads that had stressed their truck’s ability. There’d been a few places where they’d all had to get out, but luck had been with them. They hadn’t broken an axel or even had so much as a flat tire.

  The Netherlands border wasn’t far. Crossing it would push one problem—Nazis—to a backseat. Vampires would still plague them, but he hadn’t sensed any since they’d passed Hannover. Was it because the Reich was using every single one of the fell creatures they could get their hands on?

  The more he thought about it, the likelier it seemed. Vampires reveled in blood and death. Sex ran a hot second. The Nazi prison camps provided lush opportunities for both feeding and fucking, a resource far too rich to be ignored. Vampires might disparage the Reich, but they weren’t above using them to meet their needs.

  A corner of Stewart’s mouth twisted downward into a grimace. Hitler and his henchmen might believe they had vampires under their thumb, but they’d be in for a rude awakening someday.

  Och aye, and we can only hope ’twill come sooner rather than later.

  For once no one was bothering him. No questions. No “Hey, Stewart, come here for a moment,” requests.

  It gave him a much-needed opportunity to lay out his plan for getting the group across the border and examine it for holes. Critical elements he might have missed. They’d be abandoning the truck soon—not much choice, even though not having it created other problems. Every road had border crossing guards, and they prowled the terrain near their stations. The Nazis knew good and well that once someone moved into the Netherlands, they were home free.