“She’s in great danger, and so we’ll allow her to stay with us…” Mavin began to protest, but Monroe raised a hand to quiet her. “For exactly two weeks, and then she must leave whether the Alpha is dead or alive. That is our final ruling.”
Michael protested. “Two weeks? That won’t be enough time.”
Monroe ignored him. He looked at the crowd, lifted his hand, and slammed his gavel one last time.
“Meeting adjourned.”
Chapter Thirteen
This idea is like letting a monkey with a blowtorch into a room full of dynamite.
~Grandma Sugar
After the council meeting, Michael and I met Ryan and Leah under a shady tree. I still reeled from what had just happened.
“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m sweating like a whore in church on Sunday.” I fanned myself with my hand, and Leah and Ryan burst out laughing.
“Does she always talk like that?” Ryan asked Michael.
“It gets worse when she’s nervous. Or angry.”
I had to agree with him. “Or drunk. I get very southern when drinking.”
“Well, I think it’s charming.” Leah took my arm as Sampson approached. His black councilman’s robe hung over his arm, and he looked very serious. “Let’s go and get something cold to drink. The boys will want to talk with their father.”
We went to Leah’s caravan. She poured two glasses of lemonade, and we sat outside on wooden rocking chairs. Leah and Ryan had a modern-looking caravan like Michael, but the rocking chairs and the lemonade made it seem like I was back in Bowling Green.
I leaned back with a contented sigh. “This feels like home.”
“Tell me about Kentucky.”
“It’s different from York. My daddy’s a professor, and we live in town, close to the university. Bowling Green is the biggest city for miles, so we have lots of restaurants and things to do. Nashville is only an hour away, and that’s fun.”
“Nashville? I’d love to go there. I adore country music.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Really?”
“I even have my own cowboy hat,” Leah said with a giggle.
“You’ll have to come and visit sometime.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back. Leah wasn’t leaving the compound, let alone England. It was almost cruel of me to bring it up.
Leah seemed to sense my thoughts. “It’s not that bad, really. I’m happy with Ryan and the life we’ve built here.” She put a hand protectively over her belly. “And we haven’t told many people yet, but we’re expecting our first child.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news. Congratulations.”
Leah nodded, but there was a shadow in her eyes. “We’re excited, but it can be hard for Traveller women. Margaret lost three babies. They all died before they were born.”
“I’m sorry for her.”
I meant what I said. Margaret may have been mean to me, and tried to get the council to kick me out, but I wouldn’t wish that sort of thing on anyone.
“Just be glad you aren’t a Traveller,” said Leah, and then she gave me a wry grin. “And not just for the baby thing, although that’s reason enough.”
“What do you mean?”
Leah took a long swallow of her lemonade. “You’d be trapped here like all the other women. Michael would never let you leave.”
I felt a chill go over me in spite of the warmth of the day. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not then.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Leah, and we tapped our glasses together.
Ryan and Michael brought us lunch. After we ate, we walked to Tad’s caravan for the funeral. Everyone in the compound waited to pay their respects. We stood for a long time in line before we reached the coffin, which was closed. I was happy about that. I had no desire to the see the face of a dead sixteen year old.
Michael seemed to understand my thoughts. “It’s closed because we had to remove his hypothalamus before we buried him, otherwise the Moktar would dig him up.”
He whispered the words into my ear and caught me when I stumbled. The idea of having to protect a dead body like that was a reality these people lived with on a daily basis.
Tad’s caravan was wooden and not very big. White sheets draped over the entire structure and also on all the furniture in the yard, reminding me of the sad-looking dust covers used to protect things in long deserted or abandoned homes. The coffin was white and shiny, with silver handles. Fresh flowers surrounded both the coffin and caravan, some shaped into large, ornate arrangements and others just single stems placed reverently on the ground. The air smelled strongly of lilies, roses, and carnations. For a moment, I had a flashback to my mother’s funeral, a memory so intense and painful tears stung the backs of my eyes. Tad’s mother stood alone next to the coffin, wearing a wine-colored evening gown.
“His father passed away a few years ago. He was her only child,” Michael murmured in my ear. “And don’t say his name. It’s very bad luck.”
I nodded, glad he’d told me. When we reached the coffin, Michael placed his hand on it, a muscle working in his cheek as he struggled to compose himself. He embraced Tad’s mother, and held her as silent sobs wracked her body. When he let go, he turned to me.
“Emerson, this is Mary.”
I reached out to shake her hand. She was so small the top of her head barely reached my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She pulled out a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “Thank you. He was a good boy. You didn’t know him, of course. It’s kind of you to come.”
I followed Michael off to a quiet spot on the other side of the caravan. He was pale and looked so shaken I instinctively wrapped my arms around him. He held me tightly, his lips on my hair.
“This should not have happened.”
His voice was raw and rough. I patted his back and made soothing noises, but nothing I could do or say would make this better.
Tad’s funeral began after the long line of mourners had said their condolences. I didn’t know how Tad’s mother got through it. She had a kind word for everyone, and sometimes it seemed like she was the comforter, more than the person being comforted.
Eventually, everyone had paid their respects, and the crowd formed into a solemn circle around Mary and the coffin. Glasses of whiskey were poured, including one for Tad. I learned very quickly gypsy funerals were composed of three things, weeping, wailing, and lots and lots of whiskey.
Sampson stood to make the first toast. “Do not cry or thy tears will sear the heart of the one we lost. Let him rest in peace. Do not use his name, or eat his favorite food. Do not use his things. Everything he owned must be destroyed. There should be nothing left now to bind his soul to Earth. He is free now, to fly to Rom, and live in fields of green in never-ending sunshine.”
Everyone took a deep drink. The whiskey burned its way down my throat, and left a mellow warmth in my middle. I had to agree with this aspect of a gypsy funeral. The whiskey definitely helped make things just a little more bearable.
Michael, Patrick, and Ryan joined a group of Tad’s friends. I waited with Leah. Margaret stood alone, not far from us. A small fire had been built near Tad’s caravan, and we watched in silence as the men carried all of Tad’s belongings and tossed them into the fire, one by one.
“Will they cremate him?” I really did not want to see his body added to the funeral pyre and was relieved when Leah shook her head.
“Never. Gypsies are always buried. Dust to dust and all that.”
After all of Tad’s belongings had been burnt, the women lit tall white candles that lined the way from Tad’s coffin to a horse drawn hearse waiting near two large metal doors. Everyone was completely silent until the last candle was lit and the procession began.
“It’s good he was outside when he died,” murmured Leah, as we joined the line of mourners behind Tad’s coffin. “A gypsy shouldn’t die cooped up. It’s just wrong.”
Tad’s
friends, including Michael and his brothers, carried the coffin slowly down the path. When they got to the end, they lifted it onto the hearse. The horses were black, with braided manes. The coffin was huge and looked heavy.
“Why is the coffin so big?” It was almost twice as wide as any coffin I’d ever seen.
“He’ll be buried with things he might need in his next life, like money and food.” Leah’s lower lip trembled. “Anything to make the journey a little easier for him.”
“That sounds very Egyptian.”
Leah gave me a little smile. “Gypsy comes from the word ‘Egyptian.’ We’ve been around a long time. Some people say we bear the mark of Cain, doomed to wander the earth endlessly. Those people are just bigots who hate us and want to think we’re inherently evil. Not all who wander are lost.”
The horses started moving, and we joined the sad parade of gypsies that followed. We exited the compound through the metal doors, large enough to accommodate the hearse, and wound our way through the back alleys of York. The streets were completely empty and quiet, like the whole city mourned, too. We walked in silence until we came to a small cemetery. Pretty typical to others I’d seen, except empty bottles of whiskey and glasses stood at each grave, as well as small trinkets that looked like good luck charms. There was no one else around.
“Where is everyone?” I whispered to Leah.
“We placed a charm to make Dwellers stay away. It’s an old gypsy trick. It’ll disappear as soon as we’re done.”
“Why doesn’t it affect me?”
Leah shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe because you’re here with us.”
Sampson stood next to Mary and held her as the coffin was lowered into the ground. A man began playing the bagpipes. The sad, soulful sound echoed across the barren cemetery. After the last note died away, Mary took the first handful of dirt and threw it on her son’s coffin. She wept, clinging to Sampson’s jacket. Tears rolled down Leah’s cheeks, and I swallowed hard, blinking my own away. Another round of whiskey was poured and Sampson raised his glass.
“Gone, but not forgotten,” he said.
We raised our glasses and repeated his words. “Gone, but not forgotten.”
Some of the men pulled out instruments and began to play. There was a fiddle, a flute, and oboe, and a rather banged up trumpet. Several people had tambourines. They gathered together and played a lively tune that reminded me of a New Orleans’ funeral parade. As they played, we headed slowly back to the compound, our hearts feeling a little bit lighter. Some of the gypsies began to dance, and others started to sing.
“It’s over now. We can stop the crying and celebrate his life.” Leah blew out a sigh, and pulled me out of the parade to wait for Michael and Ryan. They came last, after Mary and Sampson, making sure everyone was safe and accounted for.
Michael grabbed my hand, and we walked back to the compound together. He looked worn out.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“This was a hard one, but now you’ll see what a real gypsy party is like.”
“Geez Louise. I’m half-drunk already.”
Michael bit his lip and gave me a sexy little grin. “Are you going to start talking all southern again?”
“I sure might. We consumed quite a bit of whiskey today.”
He snorted. “As someone from Kentucky might say, honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
I laughed, squeezing his hand as I studied the people in the procession. “I’ve heard stories about gypsies my whole life, but those gypsies weren’t like all of you. Are you the same or different?”
“Both.” He pulled me closer so we could talk quietly. “Before the Moktar, people could marry Dwellers and start new compounds. We were vagabonds, and naturally we spread out and split apart at times. The gypsies you know about are sort of our very distant cousins. They mixed with Dwellers so much that only a bit of real Traveller blood remains. Unfortunately, it’s just enough to make them excellent con artist, liars, and thieves, which gets all of us in trouble.”
As we entered the compound, I looked around, noticing the gardens and old trees around the caravans. “But I think you’ve been here a long time. That doesn’t really fit the vagabond description.”
“We’re forced to live here by the alliance. They like to keep tabs on us because we’re an unpredictable element. But wandering is in our blood. It makes us crazy to be tied down like this.”
Leah came up to us, laughing and pulling Ryan along with her. “Come, you two. The party has begun.”
The rest of the day flew by in a haze of drinking, dancing, feasting, and singing. The women were extremely good dancers. The men mostly stayed on the sidelines and watched. Michael kept me close by his side. Every once in a while, one of the younger men pulled a girl away from the other dancers. She would resist, dragging her feet, but laughing the whole time.
“What are they doing?” I had to get very close to Michael’s ear so he could hear me.
“That’s called ‘grabbing.’ It’s an old gypsy courting ritual, a way to steal a kiss. It’s completely barbaric, and yet most find it somehow romantic. Too bad it stems from our fear of the Moktar taking our women.”
Bitterness tainted his voice. I stroked his cheek. “Well, you don’t need to bother with that because I’ll kiss you any ole time you want.”
I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a long, sweet kiss. He tasted like whiskey and smelled faintly of smoke from the campfire. I leaned against him with a soft sigh.
Patrick cleared his throat. He stood behind us, dressed in full battle gear. “Time to head out, Mikey.”
The sun began to set as the men readied themselves, even the older ones. They’d drunk a lot of whiskey, and a few weren’t quite steady on their feet.
When Michael nodded and slipped away, I looked at Leah in concern. “Are they seriously going out like this?”
Leah pursed her lips. “They must. The council only gave Michael two weeks to kill the Alpha. Every minute counts, Emerson.”
I shook my head, the panic rising in my chest. “If anything happens to him…”
Leah took my arm and gave me a steady look. “He’ll go whether you want it or not because he must. Don’t make it harder for him. Just put a smile on your face, give him a kiss, and send him off.”
She kept her eyes locked on mine until I calmed down. I knew she was right, but when Michael came back, dressed in all black, I couldn’t hide the worry in my eyes.
He pulled me to a quiet spot under a large oak tree. “Don’t fret. I’m not drunk.”
“You had an awful lot of whiskey today, mister.”
He playfully tugged a strand of my hair. “I’ve been drinking whiskey since before I could walk. I’m fine. Trust me.”
I pulled him close, my hands on his leather jacket. “Be safe.”
He nodded seriously. “I’m always safe.”
“Be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
I gave him a very stern look. “Be serious.”
He grinned and kissed me so hard my knees almost gave out. “I’m never serious,” he joked, his words a sweet murmur against my lips.
I had to smile back. I couldn’t help it. He’d finally initiated another kiss. I held his face in my hands and kissed him over and over again, wanting him to stay so badly it hurt.
When the others yelled for him, he leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll kill the monster, and you’ll be able to go home to your Da.”
I had promised not to cry, but couldn’t stop myself. “Just come back, Michael Nightingale. I mean it.”
He put a finger under my chin and tilted it up to peer into my eyes. He gave me one last heartbreakingly tender kiss, and then whispered, “I will. For the first time, there is something I want to come back to.”
Chapter Fourteen
It happened faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.
~Grandma Sugar
Sun Tzu knew a lot about war,
but he didn’t know how it felt to be left behind while others fought. I wasn’t accustomed to it myself. The Traveller women, however, had become experts. As soon as the men left, they took their places around the fire to wait. We formed a sad little group. The women still wore their fancy dresses and sequins. They looked like a band of strippers who’d gotten lost in the woods. I sat down on a log next to Leah, and tried to study the women without being obvious.
Tad’s mother, Mary, began to sing, breaking the silence with her mournful melody. The song, a sad, sweet lullaby, sounded hauntingly familiar.
“I’ve heard this before,” I whispered to Leah.
“It’s a Traveller song. You couldn’t have.”
When the song ended, the bottle of whiskey got passed around again. I tried to refuse it, since I’d had more whiskey in one day than I’d had my whole life, but the ladies insisted. Soon I was buzzed, along with everyone else.
“Oy. Dweller.”
One of the girls called to me from the other side of the fire pit. She wore a silver sequin dress about as big as the piece of aluminum foil a decent person would use to wrap a ham sandwich. She had long, black, silky hair and eyes so dark blue they looked nearly purple. A pretty girl, but obviously no one had ever taught her to keep her knees together when wearing a micro-mini dress.
“What do you want, Audrey?” Leah, the only one not toasted at this point, narrowed her eyes at the girl. She sipped water instead of whiskey. Although she didn’t seem aware of it, sometimes her hand would cover her belly protectively. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew she was expecting.
Audrey scowled. “I have a question for the Dweller. Is it true you fought off a Moktar?”
“Yes, it is.”
Audrey took another swallow of whiskey and then slammed down her glass on a small table next to her seat. “How?”
Audrey’s question hung in the air, and the women all turned and looked at me. Even Nella seemed curious.
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