Patrick and Margaret stood across the courtyard from us. Patrick’s jaw was clenched, and Margaret seemed ready to cry. Leah noticed, too.
“Poor Margaret,” she said, and Ryan echoed her words.
“Poor Margaret.” He shook his head. “Looking to cause trouble again. I think we should say ‘Poor Patrick’ here, or maybe ‘Poor Ryan.’ It’s isn’t easy being married to the likes of you, you know.”
Leah gave him a kiss on the cheek. “It’s a daily struggle, I’m sure.”
“Come on,” said Ryan. “Let’s greet our guests.”
Michael took my hand, pulling me closer and being adorably protective. I had to work very hard to suppress a smile of victory. I’d been wrong comparing him to my feral kitten. Next to that kitten, Michael was going to be a piece of cake.
“The council will meet shortly. Margaret will tell them about her dreams, we’ll give them the logical explanation, and all will be well.” Michael gave me a little smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “And then we’ll go to the funeral.”
“Are you sure I should come?” I remembered the sound of Tad’s mother weeping, and it made my heart ache.
“It’s better if we all pay our respects.” A bell tolled from somewhere deep within the compound, and Michael sighed. “It’s time.”
Chapter Twelve
These people are nuttier than a squirrel turd.
~Grandma Sugar
The sky darkened as we walked toward the council meeting. I looked up and realized a huge plastic dome covered the entire complex. Rain pelted the roof, but inside it remained dry and warm.
Michael noticed my interest. “That dome makes living outside in northern England ever so much more enjoyable.”
Leah and Ryan walked just ahead of us, and overheard our conversation. “Michael designed it. He’s a genius,” said Leah.
Michael actually blushed, and I gave his hand a squeeze. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I can’t cook,” he said, rubbing his chin, “and I’m a terrible dancer.”
“Well, I can cook.”
“I know. I sampled your brownies.”
“Sample them anytime, big boy,” I said with a wink, enjoying his befuddled reaction to my teasing. “I can’t dance either. That’s why I chose mixed martial arts as my talent for pageants.”
Michael came to a dead stop.”You beat people up at a beauty pageant?” He bit his lip to keep from laughing.
“Well, I didn’t beat up the other girls, although I kind of wanted to at times. Some of them were awfully mean, but it didn’t seem right to mess up their hair when they’d spent so much time and effort on it. I usually asked for volunteers from the audience instead.”
The council area, just ahead of us, consisted of a large stage set with a long black table, chairs, and microphones. A bunch of unmatched benches and stools had been arranged for the audience. Michael found a place for us to sit in the back, not far from Ryan and Leah.
“How did you learn to fight?” he asked.
“I signed myself up for karate lessons at age four. I was precocious. I brought the permission form home from preschool and made Daddy fill it out for me. I competed nationally until last year when I started college.”
“Did you ever win?”
I leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Darlin’, I always win.”
The expression on his face made me laugh. “I’ll consider that a warning,” he said softly.
I sat back in my seat, folding my hands primly in my lap. “I studied judo, taekwondo, kendo, and stick fighting, too. The only thing I didn’t try was sumo.”
Michael snorted. “Why ever not?”
I answered him seriously even though he thought I’d made a joke. “Grandma Sugar wouldn’t let me. At around eleven, she said enough was enough, and insisted I start doing pageants, too.”
“Did you like it?”
I shrugged. “To tell you the truth, once I learned the rules, it wasn’t that different from karate. A battle is a battle, no matter what the field looks like, and beauty pageants are a battle. Trust me. I just planned out a strategy and did what was necessary to win. I learned to walk the way they walked, and talk the way they talked. The rest came pretty naturally due to a bit of a competitive streak in my nature.”
“What was your biggest win?”
“Junior Miss Kentucky was huge. And I came in first for the talent portion of Junior Miss America.”
“How did you end up in York?”
“They have a fabulous literature program, and I want to be a professor someday, but I had a bit of an ulterior motive. Since my mom is from this area, I hoped to find her family, but I’ve had no luck at all.”
“Maybe I can help, once we solve our little Moktar problem.”
I gave him a grateful smile. “That would be wonderful, but I don’t know much. My middle name, Jane, was her mother’s name, but I don’t have a clue about her dad’s name.”
“Where did the Emerson come from?”
“Ralph Waldo Emerson. She was also a lit major,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just like me. I’m lucky I wasn’t a boy. She might have gone for Waldo.”
Michael smiled. “You’re definitely better as an Emerson.”
The council, twelve older men and women wearing long black robes and acting very serious, approached the stage and everyone got quiet. Their cloaks made them look like a row of crows on a telephone wire. My heart began to pound in my chest as they sat down on stiff, high-back chairs and stared out at the crowd. I slipped my hand nervously into Michael’s.
A tall man with a shock of white hair and a wooden gavel chose the place at the center of the table. Michael’s father sat next to him.
Michael whispered in my ear, “The council members represent all of the Traveller communities in northern England. The man in the middle is Monroe Spinner, the leader. He’s a good bloke. I’ve known him my whole life.”
Monroe rapped his gavel on the table four times. “Please come to order. Today, we are here first and foremost to mourn the death of one of our own. I’d like to start with a moment of silence.”
The gypsies grew still, the men a sea of somber dark suits and shaved heads. The women were a very different story. Their dresses were so wild and bright it looked more like they were going to a club than a wake.
Bowing my head, I thought about the boy who died and his poor mother. She would live forever with a hole in her heart. I didn’t know her, but I knew what that felt like.
Monroe cleared his thought. “Now let us begin. I understand Margaret Nightingale would like to speak.”
Margaret stood, wobbling a little on her high heels as she walked to the stage. She looked as nervous as I felt, maybe even more so. A microphone stood at one corner of the stage. Patrick sat in the audience, his arms crossed over his chest, a dark scowl on his face.
“I had a dream about the Dweller.” Her voice sounded unsteady, hesitant.
“Go on, Margaret,” said Monroe.
“I saw her in a field of new grass. She wore white, and lightning filled the sky above her. Candles lit her way. As the wind picked up and it started to storm, the candles were extinguished one by one.”
Margaret backed away from the microphone and made her way through the silent crowd to her husband. He turned away from her when she sat down. She looked like she might cry.
The group of girls who’d given me dirty looks sat a few rows away. One of them stared at me with a nasty smirk on her face. Exactly the sort of gypsy girl I’d imagined Michael cavorting with in my imagination. She had long black hair, dark come-hither eyes, and big gold hoops in her ears. Voluptuous and sexy, she exuded confidence. Her eyes kept finding their way back to Michael, lingering on his face, but she was pretty darned interested in me, too. If looks could have killed, I’d have been dead by now.
One of the women on the council, a bony little thing with gray hair and hard eyes spoke directly to Monroe. “Dreams in autumn always come true.
”
“That’s Mavin,” said Michael. “She’s very old school.”
“She looks like a witch with a ‘b’ to me.”
He nodded. “That, too.”
He put an arm around my shoulders. A casual gesture, but I shot the group of gypsy girls a triumphant look anyway. They all seemed less than happy, especially the busty one.
I leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Who is that girl over there with the sizable bosom?”
He glanced at the group of girls. “That would be Nella.”
“She doesn’t like me.”
“She doesn’t like anyone.”
Michael turned his attention back to the stage. I stared at his profile. He might not be aware of it, but he was wrong about Nella. She definitely liked the tall, blue-eyed, wall of muscle in the seat right next to me.
There obviously wasn’t a huge selection amongst the gypsy community. Once they weeded out their first cousins and close relatives, slimmer pickings remained than in a small town in rural Kentucky. Michael was probably a rather hot commodity, and I could understand their resentment as an outsider tried to pluck their juiciest peach. But even if I understood why they disliked me, it didn’t make me inclined to change my ways. I wanted Michael just as much as they did, maybe even more.
Monroe pursed his lips. “That’s what is said Mavin, but dreams can be interpreted different ways.”
Another council member, a woman with soft curls and bright blue eyes spoke. Her hair looked like it had once been red, but had faded to a silvery gray. There was something kind about her, and I liked her immediately. I liked Monroe, too.
“Perhaps what our Margaret saw was the untimely death of one of our own, and the reason for our sadness today.”
“Thank you, Anselina. That could very well be the case,” said Monroe.
“But the dream happened after the death.” Even Mavin’s voice was annoying, like nails on a chalkboard.
Anselina gave Mavin a hard stare. “Sometimes dreams work that way. I, for one, am more interested in hearing about what occurred the night our boy died.”
Monroe nodded. “So am I. Would Michael, Sean, Quinn and Anthony please come here? And bring the Dweller, too.”
My heart stopped in my chest. I did not want to get up in front of these people, especially the group of nasty girls. Michael took my hand and whispered in my ear. “Imagine it’s a pageant, and you’re going to win.”
His word helped to propel me forward. I’d dealt with jealous girls my whole life. Southern pageant girls took catty to a whole new level, although these gypsy girls may have had them beat. I took a deep breath, which also made me feel calmer, and we walked to the stage. The boys who were with us the night Tad died joined us.
“Let’s start with Sean.”
Sean approached the microphone. Smaller than Michael, he looked very young, so young a bit of acne still dotted his forehead. He had dark eyes and a big dimple in one cheek.
“I was supposed to hunt with the one we lost that night. We planned to meet at sunset in front of York Minster. That’s what we always did if we couldn’t leave together.”
Sean clenched his hands. “He didn’t show up. I waited for an hour and called his cell phone. He never answered.”
“What did you do?” Monroe folded his hands in front of him on the table.
“I couldn’t hunt alone, of course. As I walked back to the compound, I got a call from Anthony and Quinn. They said they’d found him.”
“Anthony and Quinn, please tell us what happened. Which one is Anthony and which is Quinn?”
I hadn’t noticed it before, but they were twins. Their different tattoos and piercings were the only things that set them apart.
One of the boys stepped forward. “I’m Anthony, sir.” Anthony had a spider web tattoo on his neck and gages in his ears. Quinn had a small tattoo of a knife at the base of his skull.
“Quinn and I were on our patrol when we smelled one of them. It stood over a body. We assumed it was a Dweller. We chased it away, but our boy was already dead.”
“Did the Moktar get his hypothalamus?” Monroe’s voice sounded hollow and sad. I wondered how many deaths the council had investigated and imagined it happened quite often.
Quinn shook his head. “We called Michael as soon as we found the body and stayed with it until he came.”
Monroe looked over at Michael. “Please tell us what you saw.”
He walked to the microphone. “He died from blunt force trauma to the head. We protected his body when the Moktar attacked again.”
One of the other council members, an older man with glasses and a kind face leaned forward. “Which one of you made the kill?”
Michael’s face remained expressionless. “I did, Councilman Jones.”
That earned a small round of applause from everyone. “And that is why you are the Ceannfort,” said Councilman Jones with a smile.
Apparently, Sean noticed my confusion. “The Ceannfort is our best fighter,” he whispered, his eyes glowing with admiration and pride.
“What happened next?” Monroe asked.
“Emerson was about half a block away. Another Moktar grabbed her and held her.”
Anselina looked at me. “I think we’d like to hear this part from Emerson.”
My cheeks got hot, and my heart slammed against my ribcage. I thought about what Leah had told me, and felt terrified because there was a great deal at stake here. Michael might not be allowed to go back to school if I messed up.
“Tell us your name, child.” Anselina must have seen the fear on my face. Her voice was kind.
I took a deep breath and tried to pretend this was just another pageant. I squared my shoulders, held my head high, and made eye contact with the people in the audience, even the nasty girls. “Emerson Jane Shaw, ma’am.”
This earned a few titters. They probably weren’t used to hearing “ma’am” and “sir,” but I’d been raised right, and would never think of addressing an older lady or gentleman any other way.
“And how did you end up where the boy was killed?” Anselina asked.
I kept my gaze squarely set ahead, refusing to look at Michael. I couldn’t lie, but telling the truth wasn’t easy. “I followed Michael there.”
“Why?” Anselina wasn’t going to let me off the hook easily.
“I’m not sure, ma’am. He did his very best to avoid me, but when I saw him that night, I followed him. It wasn’t his fault.”
This earned a few laughs from Nella and her posse. I swallowed hard, not knowing if I’d hurt Michael’s case or helped it, but telling the truth was my only option. “They killed the first Moktar, just as they said. The second one grabbed me from behind.”
“Did it try to kill you?” asked Monroe.
I shook my head. “It just sniffed me and licked my neck.” I shuddered. “Michael and the other boys were too far away to help, so I did my best to fight it off.”
This earned a huge reaction from the crowd. Everyone started talking at once. Monroe had to pound his gavel on the table several times to regain order. Nella and her friends stared at me with open-mouthed disbelief.
“She’s lying,” Mavin screeched.
Sean took the microphone. “She speaks the truth. She’s a wee little thing, but she fought like a champion.”
I beamed. “Thank you.”
Sampson finally spoke. “Where did you learn to fight like that, lass?”
“I’ve taken martial arts classes since I was small, sir.”
Monroe watched me, scratching his chin. “You don’t know the rules here, Miss Shaw, but there’s something important you need to understand. It’s fine to defend yourself against the Moktar. That’s your right. But only the men do the fighting. Any woman who hunts will be shunned for life.”
“I’m not a Traveller.”
“We do what we must to keep as many people as possible safe. If you stay here, the same rules apply to you, too. Are you in agreement?”
&
nbsp; I nodded. I had no desire to seek out those monsters anyway.
Mavin destroyed my little moment of happiness. “Now a Dweller knows about the Moktar, and, more importantly about us. None of this would have ever happened if you hadn’t let your son go to university, Sampson Nightingale. Your arrogance has put us in danger.” She shot Sampson a nasty look.
“Stop your yammering, Mavin. No one is in danger, except this lass right here. And that’s what bothers me,” he said. “This isn’t normal Moktar behavior.”
“It bothers me as well, Sampson.” Anselina gave me a steady look. “The Moktar is tracking you, Emerson. He wants to hunt you down and kill you. The question is…why?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“Moktar don’t usually hunt Dwellers. They simply kill them on the spot, but he let you live. It doesn’t make sense.” Anselina shook her head.
Michael stepped forward, his shoulders tight with tension. “There is something else. I’ve seen this Moktar before. He’s a tricky one. Always hanging back, and letting others do his dirty work.”
“Do you think he’s the Alpha?” asked Monroe.
Michael paused for only a second. “Aye.”
I felt the fear coming off the crowd in waves. “Is the Alpha the leader of the Moktar?” I whispered to Quinn.
He nodded. “The biggest and the baddest.”
Mavin looked terrified. “She’ll lead him right here. He’ll kill us all.”
Her words made the already frightened crowd slip one step further into panic mode. Monroe did his best to calm them down. “Mavin, you know quite well there is no danger inside these walls. Only a Traveller can open our doors.”
Anselina agreed. “We are safer here than anywhere else in England.”
Michael squared his shoulders. “I vow to kill the Alpha. Once he’s dead, the danger will be gone.”
This caused the unrest in the crowd to shift into excitement, almost a palpable thing. Monroe looked at the other council members. “We’ll vote on it now.”
The council stood up and moved to the back of the stage. They argued quietly amongst themselves for a few minutes. Mavin looked really angry, so I hoped that meant things were going well for us. When Monroe spoke, he was short and right to the point.
Traveller Page 9
