 
# Heart Seeker

## The Fire Heart Chronicles Book 1

## Juliana Haygert

# Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 by Juliana Haygert

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Manufactured in the United States of America.

First Edition June 2018

Second Edition February 2020

www.JulianaHaygert.com

Edited by H. Danielle Crabtree

Cover design by Ravven

Any trademark, service marks, product names, or names featured are the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if one of these terms is used.

  Created with Vellum

# Contents

Author's Note

Dictionary

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Thank you

About the Author

Also by Juliana Haygert

# Author's Note

I hope you enjoy reading _Heart Seeker_!

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# Dictionary

Chey – daughter

Chini – son

Daj – mother

Dat – father

Gadjo – non-Romani person

Nais tuke – thank you

Ozi – fire

Phal – brother

Phen – sister

Puri Chey – granddaughter

Puri Chini – grandson

Puri Daj – grandmother

Puri Dat – grandfather

Rom Baro – leader of the enclave

Ruv – wolf/werewolf

Saint Sara-la-Kali – Romani Saint

Sastimos – a greeting

Vurdon – wagon

Yog – fire

Yog Ozi Nas – fire heart fever

# 1

Everyone had to do things they didn't like. Grocery shopping, cleaning, ironing, answering calls—who still used the phone for that?—and, in my case, going across town. Unfortunately, it happened more often than I liked it to. In the thirteen months I had been living in Broken Hill, this was the fifth time I'd had to come here.

Pulling my jacket tighter, I hugged myself and stepped off the bus. The weather here still boggled my mind. It was August and it was supposed to be hot, but here, up north, deep in the woods of Connecticut, it never got hot enough, not like California, Texas, Florida, or the other places I had lived before. And most days, it was chilly enough in the mornings for a jacket.

I glanced around and my chest deflated. This side of town, Southend, was meager and busier, and it wasn't uncommon for people to be robbed in the middle of the street. But the one place that sold cheap pointe shoes, which I currently needed, was right in the heart of this neighborhood. My pointe shoes had been broken for a few weeks, and I tried holding on to them as long as I could, but now they just hurt. A new pointe shoe wasn't that expensive, but I needed to save every single penny I could to pay for my tuition.

_Suck it up, Mirella_ , I told myself.

Sighing, I walked down the busy street, careful with the cracked, uneven sidewalk, and trying not to look around. And failing.

In rapid speech, vendors chatted with shoppers in hopes of convincing them to buy more than they wanted. Kids played ball in the middle of the closed street. Women, half-hidden behind some of the shops, moved suggestively.

Like any other Sunday, Romani caravans had come out with their clans and filled the square, playing and dancing flamenco right in the center of the street. A crowd gathered around them, clapping in rhythm with the songs. Some of the women walked around the crowd, offering palm or tarot reading.

I lowered my head and kept walking. Why did this store need to be on the other side of the market? Shit.

Something tugged at me, deep inside, and I glanced around. One of the women, a brunette with long, brown curls, big, dark brown eyes, and red lipstick on plump lips fixed her gaze on me. She had big hoops in her ears and a pink bandana covering her hair. She smiled, and I ducked into the crowd, praying for her to leave me alone.

I stepped into an alley. A red door was open on the left and the sign on the wall read: The Everything Shop. Past the door, I went up one flight of stairs and through another red door. It really was the everything shop. Tall, overstuffed shelves that reached the ceiling crammed the space. Pots, pans, soap bars, portraits, toys, notebooks, plastic plates and cups, paper towels, over-the-counter medicine, greeting cards, clothes, bikes, skates, helmets, dance shoes, and everything in between. If they sold puppies, I wouldn't be surprised.

"How can I help you?" a young woman asked.

I told her the model and size of the pointe shoes I was looking for. She found them in the back of the store and brought them out to me. I tried them on to make sure they fit before paying and darting out of the place.

Once outside, I lowered my head and stayed as far away from the Romani people as I could.

The woman wearing red lipstick and a pink bandana stepped in my way, making me halt.

"Hello there," she said, smiling.

"Um, excuse me." I stepped aside.

She let me pass, but she kept walking beside me. "I'm Esmeralda. Would you like to have your palm read?"

"No."

"Oh, but it should be fun."

"I'm not interested."

"I sense something in you. I'm itching to read you."

I stopped and turned to her. "I don't care."

She leaned closer and took a deep breath. Did she just... sniff me? Gross.

"I can feel... something," she said, her voice carrying an enthralling lilt. I couldn't tell if she was trying to mesmerize me or if she was the one mesmerized. "Can't you feel it?"

I could. I could sense the something in me; I could feel it. I also could sense something in her. Like her strong sixth sense trying to break the walls I had learned to erect long ago. I had no idea how it worked, but I chanted in my mind: _be strong, be strong, be strong_. Hopefully, my walls would keep her out.

I stopped and glared at her. "Look, you may fool some idiots who want to believe in the shit you do, but you won't fool me. You can't read palms; you can't sense anything. It's all theatrics to steal money from people."

She flinched as if I had slapped her. "Wow. Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?"

This time, I flinched.

Bingo. She hadn't even read me and she knew the truth.

"It's none of your business," I snapped.

"Are you sure?" She tilted her head, watching me. "You're just like me." She waved her hand up and down, gesturing from my head to my toes—and I knew she meant more than my bohemian clothes.

I gulped. Then she grabbed my hand and leaned over it.

"Hey!" I pulled my hand back.

She lifted her face, now pale and sporting wide eyes. "I saw it."

I glanced at my hand. Saw what? She had seen my palm for only a second. Besides, it was one thing to feel, to sense things, but to _see_ them? That would take some convincing.

"Death is coming for you," she whispered, as if saying the words would bring bad luck to her, too.

A chill ran down my spine.

What did that even mean? Playing it cool, I snorted. "Death is coming for all of us."

"No, not like this." Her spooked eyes turned into sad pools. "I'm so sorry."

I cradled the hand she had touched, that she had read. This was bullshit. She didn't see anything. It was all lies. Fabricated statements to enthrall her customers. However, the customers were usually told nice things, vague, hopeful things that made them come back for more.

Why would she say something so horrible to me?

"I'm sorry," she repeated, retreating.

I watched as she rushed away and disappeared among the other Romani as if I had the plague.

Groaning, I turned on my heels and marched back to the bus stop. All the while, her words echoed in my mind.

_Death is coming for you._

I spun once, twice, three times. Chassé, grand jeté, arabesque. The song ended, and I turned to my audience—girls of twelve and thirteen years old. They were one of my several classical ballet classes, and every now and then, they asked me to perform some solo from _Giselle_ or _Don Quixote_ or _Coppélia_. At this age, they were still in love with dance and thinking about pursuing it for real. Seeing me dancing these variations made them more excited about it.

I smiled and bowed to the sound of their applause.

"Miss Reyes," Holly started. "Why aren't you dancing with a big company?"

My smile fell. I got that question rather frequently. Honestly, I didn't have a good answer other than I had never auditioned. Traveling to where most auditions were held cost money, and I didn't have any.

I opened my mouth to answer, to tell them something, but I caught sight of the time on the clock over the door and changed the subject. "Time to go." I waved them off. "See you next week."

The girls filed to leave the classroom, and I whirled to the shelf in the corner and turned off the stereo. In the wall mirrors, I saw two girls standing close to the back shelf where my bag was.

"Girls," I called, and they jumped. "Can I help you with something?"

"No, Miss Reyes," Serena said. Huddled together, she and Amy left the classroom.

A prickling sensation teased the base of my neck. Something was wrong. The pendant pinned to the inside of my bra strap warmed against my skin. I closed my eyes, and opened my mind. I sensed a disturbance in the air around me, around the dance studio, but couldn't be sure. I tried pushing my senses farther away, but I didn't know how. It was a miracle I was able to do this much.

Groaning, I snapped my eyes open.

The first time I had felt my sixth sense so strong I couldn't ignore it, I was six years old. I fought it, thinking I was either going crazy or creating things out of boredom. Normal kids had imaginary friends. I had an advanced sixth sense. The fight lasted for over a year, until the force of that powerful sense broke me, literally driving me to my knees. Moments later, I found an old teacher from my elementary school having a heart attack in the library.

After that, it was hard to ignore the increasing sensation and the hard truth. The damn stories my mother had told me before bed, the Romani legends, were more than fairy tale. It was all true, and I was a Romani.

Of course, I never told anyone. It wasn't until recently that I realized I wasn't doing much to hide it, though. On top of my dark brown curls falling to my waist, my tanned skin, and my big greenish-hazel eyes, I dressed like a bohemian. Big earrings, lots of bracelets and rings and necklaces, ripped jeans or flowing skirts, blouses and dresses and jackets with lace or fringes. Odd boots or ballet flats. And everything colorful. I tried changing it so no one would know I was a Romani, but the change in style seeped into my mood. I wasn't happy in regular jeans and tanks and black jackets. Or with my hair dyed another color or hidden. Or without jewelry.

This was me. It wasn't as if I was looking for anyone's approval.

My mother had been the same. She was an older version of me, with the same style of clothing and the same love for dancing, especially flamenco. I should have asked her about our ancestry, but I never summoned the courage. She never mentioned it, so I pretended I couldn't feel her sixth sense, even more powerful than mine.

Sighing, I walked across the room and picked up my bag. It was open and my red, yellow, and orange bracelets were missing. What the hell? Oh, Serena and Amy. That was why they had stayed a little after class. Shit.

Shaking my head, I took off my pointe shoes, shoved my feet in my flats, and shrugged into my thin jacket. I slung my bag over my shoulder and marched to the lobby.

"Hey, Mirella," Julie, the receptionist, said, looking at me from over her cat glasses. "How was class?"

I looked around. A few parents waited in the common room for their kids, but other than that, we were alone at the front.

"Aside from the fact that Serena and Amy stole my bracelets, it was great."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm in shock, too. Do they have any other classes during the week besides mine?"

Julie shifted her attention to the computer and typed a few things. "They have jazz with Miss Dona tomorrow." Miss Dona was the owner of the dance studio.

"What time?"

"Same time as your ballet class." The one for four to six year olds.

"Good. Thanks," I said as a young woman entered the dance studio.

I hadn't seen her before, but I had joined the dance studio last July when I moved here, a mere thirteen months ago. She looked my age, so she could be an old student coming to visit. I had seen it happen a handful of times.

Julie smiled at her. "Hello. How can I help you?"

"Hi," the young woman said, coming to stand before Julie's high counter. "I just heard that you're opening flamenco classes for adults, and I'm interested."

"Oh, that's great. The first class starts in three days. It'll be one hour per week, every Thursday evening."

The young woman smiled. "Cool, I can do that."

"Great." Julie gestured to me. "This is the instructor, Mirella Reyes."

"Oh." She turned her smile to me. The blue in her eyes caught my attention. Having boring hazel eyes, blues or bright greens always entranced me. Under a red beanie, her strawberry blond hair curled down to her shoulders. She extended her hand at me. "Hi. I'm Ellie Clarke. Nice to meet you."

I shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, too."

She narrowed her eyes at me, still smiling. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I was expecting the teacher to be older than me."

"I get that a lot. Don't worry. I've been dancing since I was four, and I've been teaching for over five years." One of the bright sides of my childhood had been all the dancing. My mother was a dance instructor, and it was only natural I that became one, too. By the middle of high school, I was teaching ballet and flamenco to the younger girls.

"Nice."

"Have you ever danced before?"

"I took ballet and jazz when I was little, but it wasn't my thing. But I've always loved watching flamenco. I'm a big fan of Joaquin Cortez." She lifted a hand and fanned her face. I almost smiled. "I guess I decided it's time to try new things, you know?"

"Are you from around here?" Julie asked.

"No, I'm from Virginia. I started college here last year."

"Broken Hill University?" Julie asked.

"Yes."

"Me too," I said. "I'm in the dance program." That was why I had moved here, because I had been accepted into the college. Granted, I only took a few classes per semester since I didn't get a full scholarship and my salary at the dance studio was meager.

"That's cool. I'm still undecided, but I'm leaning toward arts."

"Sounds good." Julie handed her a clipboard with some forms. "You can fill these out."

"Cool." Ellie took the clipboard and sat on one of the chairs edging the lobby walls.

For some reason, I lowered my walls and let my senses feel Ellie. I didn't know how to read people, but I could get a sense of what I thought was their soul. Ellie emanated serenity and happiness. And she looked like—she had a small smile on her lips as she filled out the form. Smiling even when nothing fun was happening, because she was happy.

A little jealous pang raced through me. I had never been like that and probably would never be. I had been taught to be guarded, to keep my feelings to myself, to not trust anyone around me. No one.

That made for a very lonely life.

# 2

Tuesday. One of the rare days I didn't have dance or school early in the morning.

I squeezed the honey bottle over my homemade waffle with one hand and turned on the TV with the other. Like everything in my apartment, I had found my TV at a yard sale. It was an ancient thing of thirty inches, one of those old tube models. But it worked. Sort of.

I flipped on the news channel and took my time savoring my lazy breakfast.

Goose bumps made the hairs on my arms stand on end as the anchor changed subject.

"Last night, outside the Broken Hill Plaza, two middle school-aged girls were attacked by what they described as masked men. The first victim, Amy Lancer, was stabbed in the stomach and is in the hospital, but in stable condition. The second victim, Serena Brown, escaped and ran for help."

My blood became ice.

I turned the volume up.

The image flashed to Serena sitting on the back of an ambulance, a reporter beside her. It was dark out—this had been recorded last night, right after the incident.

"What happened after you ran from them?" the reporter asked.

The girl was shaking, and her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. "T-they ran after me. T-there was a group of people close by, and I yelled for them. When they started running to me, the masked men retreated." She lifted her arm and ran her hand over her neck.

I gasped. She had my bracelets. All of them.

A memory snaked into my mind.

When I was twelve, I had a best friend in middle school. Layla. During winter break, Layla went to visit her grandparents. So, before she left for the break, I had made her a necklace with broken shells I had collected.

"I'll never take it off!" she had promised.

Layla sent me a picture during her Christmas dinner with her family—she had still been wearing the necklace. That was only a few moments before it happened.

What the police described as masked men invaded their house and killed Layla and her family. And the necklace? The police told me they didn't find any necklace. It was gone. Vanished.

Or taken.

I shuddered and switched the channel.

On the screen, a group of teenage girls got ready for a party—I had no idea which movie this was.

I sighed, envious of those characters' busy weekends. I rarely did anything other than stay home and watch movies. Every Saturday morning, I started a chant in my head. _I'll go out tonight. I'll go out tonight._ So my mind would be prepared when it was time to get ready. But whenever the time came, I stared at my poor closet and gave up every time. Not because I didn't have anything to wear, but because I didn't have the courage to do it.

In high school, the popular girls threw parties that went late into the night. I had been invited to a few, but my mother never allowed me to go. I was teased for having a mother who not only looked like a cuckoo, but was also a huge control freak. I sneaked out of the house a couple of times and went to the parties. I had my first kiss at one.

And the more I snuck out, the bolder I got, going out more often and staying out longer. The night I met the guy who could have become my boyfriend, I was caught. I was grounded for an entire month, and my mother decided we should sleep with our bedroom doors open. She started checking in on me in the middle of night. She even threatened to install a security alarm, but she didn't go that far.

This time, there was nothing or anyone to stop me. I should go. I could have fun. Meet someone. A friend. A guy.

Insecurity crawled up my spine and took root around my heart. I wasn't ready to let anyone in. I should be alone. If my insecurity wasn't enough, then remembering what happened to Serena was.

And to Layla, so many years ago.

I embraced my fear and remembered my mother's warnings: _Do not trust anyone._

That always kept me on my toes and away from everyone.

"That's it for today, my little sweet buns." I turned off the music. The eleven girls, ranging in age from four to six, came running and screaming at me and embraced me all at once. "Easy, easy," I teased as they tried to squash me under their thin, young arms.

This was their first class after summer break, and they certainly seemed excited to be back.

"Miss Reyes," the new member of our class, Annie, called to me once the others released me. She had been brought in by Julie two minutes after class started this morning. She had been shy and quiet for the duration of the class. "You'll be here next class, right?"

I knelt before her and held her hands. "Of course. Why?"

Her big green eyes fixed on mine. "I don't want you to leave. Ever."

I smiled. "Why would I leave?"

"I don't know. I'm just asking that you don't," she said, her plump cheeks enticing me to squeeze them.

"I won't go anywhere," I told her before kissing her forehead.

"There you are," a male voice came from the door. I stood and saw a well-dressed man coming in. "Hi, sugarplum." His smile was genuine, and his arms opened wide as she squealed and ran to him.

"Daddy." Her sweet voice was muffled by his arms around her.

My stomach churned and my eyes became wet. A dad coming to pick up his little princess and hugging her as if he had found gold. What a kind, sweet gesture, yet simple and free. A gesture I'd never had.

I would forever envy daughters whose fathers cared for them.

"Excuse me," I muttered as I walked past father and daughter and left the classroom before I made a scene and cried my eyes out.

Why did I care so much? I was twenty years old. A grown-up. I should be over it. No, I shouldn't even think about it. My father had abandoned my mother and me because he wanted to. Why would I give a damn about him?

Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy.

"Miss Reyes?" the man called after me, releasing Annie. She hugged his leg.

I quickly wiped my eyes before turning to them with a practiced smile. "Yes?"

"I'm Phillip Morrison, Annie's dad." He extended his hand to me, and while I shook his hand, I couldn't help but notice two things. One, he was young to have a five-year-old daughter, and two, he was cute. Very, very cute. Tall and broad, with blond hair and blue eyes.

I let go of his hand. "Mirella Reyes."

Smiling, he glanced at his child. "Why don't you sit on the bench?" He pointed to a wooden bench that ran along the corridor wall. "And change your shoes while I talk to Miss Reyes?"

Annie nodded and sat on the bench a couple of feet behind us. Without the smile, he turned to me.

Worry tugged at my chest. "Is there something wrong?"

"I just wanted to let you know that Annie is a little shy, but she warms up eventually," he said in a low voice. "We've moved so much lately because of my work, it's hard for her to open up and make friends. But I really hope to stick around this time and make it work for her."

"I understand."

"I don't usually tell this to strangers, but her mother was young when she got pregnant, and she didn't want Annie. Right after her Annie's first birthday, she gave me full custody and disappeared."

"O-okay." Why the hell was he telling me this?

"Sorry. I just... I wanted you to understand her a little. She's reclusive. I'm trying to change that."

I smiled, touched by this father's love. "Thanks for trusting me, Mr. Morrison. I'll try to coax her out of her shell while in class."

"Thank you. Um, call me Phillip, please."

"Okay," I muttered.

He glanced over his shoulder to Annie. She was seated on the bench, her sneakers on her feet, and she glanced at a blank spot at the wall.

"Ready to go, sugarplum?"

As if snapping from a daydream, Annie jumped off the bench and nodded.

"Bye, Annie." I waved at her. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Bye, Miss Reyes," she replied, her sweet voice a little low on enthusiasm.

Phillip smiled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Thank you, Miss Reyes."

I opened my mouth to tell him to call me Mirella, but they turned and started walking away before I could. I heard Annie asking him to enroll her in another class, and that warmed my core. Apparently, the first class had gone well if she already wanted more.

After finishing the new flamenco for adults class Thursday night, I dropped my bag on the bench in the center of the dressing room and sat down beside it with a heavy huff. Before the flamenco class, I had taught a ballet class for teenagers and another one for little kids, and before that, I had had English and biology classes. I was exhausted.

Tonia, Maria, and Ellie entered the locker room, chatting.

"Miss Reyes," Maria started. "Great class."

"Thanks," I said, taking off my flamenco shoes. "Please call me Mirella. I'm about your age, and I feel like I'm fifty years old when you call me miss."

Maria chuckled. "Sounds good."

Ellie dropped her bag beside mine. "We're going to a pizza place a few blocks from here. The Pizza Tower? It's supposed to be good. Want to come with us?"

My hand froze over my sandals. I had heard the same thing about that pizza place, although I still hadn't gone there. But that wasn't what made me freeze.

Ellie was inviting me to go out. Like a friend would ask another friend to eat out. I looked at her. She was smiling at me, waiting for a response. Her eyes shone as if she was happy and excited, as if she wanted me to say yes.

But why? Why did she want to be my friend? And why was I overthinking this? All I had to do was say yes. Yes. I could go out with them. Meet new people. Open up. Make friends.

The images of Layla's bloody body on the floor and a shaking Serena telling the reporters about the masked men flashed in my mind, and I flinched.

I averted my eyes. "Sorry. I can't."

She lost the smile. "Oh. Okay."

Trying not to pay attention to their conversation, I fished the new studio sweatshirt from my bag. Beside me, Ellie did the same.

"Jinx," she said, holding up the dark pink and black sweatshirt in front of her. "I really like it."

"Me too." My cell phone beeped, and I dropped the sweatshirt on top of my bag to answer it at the same time Ellie knocked one of her flamenco shoes off the bench. I checked the number, half of my attention on Ellie while she let go of her sweatshirt and picked up the shoe. Unknown number. "Hello?" An automatic voice talking about a nonexistent credit card came from the other side of the line. Shit, I hated these calls. Annoyed, I turned off my phone.

Beside me, Ellie had exchanged her leotard and tights for the studio sweatshirt and jeans.

She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Bye, Mirella. See you next class."

"Bye," I said before she left with the other girls.

I took off my leotard, put on the studio's tee, and reached for my sweatshirt. It wasn't on my bag. I looked around and found it on the floor. Frowning, I picked it up and checked the tag. My name wasn't written there.

The blood drained from my face. Shit. Ellie was wearing my sweatshirt. Fear gripped my gut. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I shoved my ripped jeans on, slipped on my sandals, and rushed out of the changing room.

"Where's the fire?" Julie asked as I raced through the lobby, stopping only long enough to leave my bag behind her desk.

"I'll explain later," I said, knowing all too well that I would have to come up with some beautiful lie.

I shot out of the dance studio and ran toward the pizza place. There were two possible routes, and I hoped I had chosen the right one.

Two blocks later, I caught up with the other girls, but not Ellie.

"She said something about dropping her bag in her car," Tonia said.

"Where is her car?"

"At Al's parking garage."

Oh crap.

I yelled thanks and ran back. Al's garage was an old, dark, four-story building on the corner of the street where the dance studio was. The old and dark part got to me, and my stomach twisted.

I had never prayed in my entire life. I had never had a reason to. But this time seemed as good as any. _Please, God, if you exist, don't let me be too late._

I halted at the main entrance of the garage. Shit, what now? How would I find her?

Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and released my senses. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, how it would feel, and how I would identify it, but I knew the air felt different whenever there was distress, when something was happening.

The first floor felt fine, the second floor too. At the back of the third floor, something dark and heavy loomed.

My eyes shot open, and I darted to the nearest stairs. I climbed the steps three at a time. On the third floor, I found Ellie closing the trunk of her car right in the front of the building.

"Mirella?" she asked, walking around her car. "Did you park around here, too?"

"Um." Now what? I didn't even have a car. What should I tell her? "Not really."

She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"I—" The something dark and heavy moved. My head snapped in its direction. There was nothing there, but I couldn't see much because of the weak lighting. "We should go."

"Um, I was going to the pizza place."

The darkness came closer and closer.

I shoved her sweatshirt at her. "This is yours. You have mine."

She looked down at herself. "Really?"

"Yes. I have my name written on the tag." I showed her the tag of her sweatshirt. "See? No name here."

She chuckled. "You didn't have to come all the way here for it. I would have noticed and brought it to you next class. Washed and ironed."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think of that." I extended my hand to her. "Can I have my sweatshirt, please?"

With a frown, she took off the sweatshirt, leaving only a tank top covering her upper body. "Here." She pushed the sweatshirt to me, and then put on hers.

"Thank you." I clutched my sweatshirt as the heavy feeling—the dark feeling—became stronger. "You should get going. The girls will be worried."

She still looked at me as if I were crazy. "Right." A loud beep echoed through the garage as she locked her car. "I'll see you around."

I waved at her. "See ya."

She turned and started walking toward the staircase. I thought staying put would look creepier, so I walked away from her. Closer to the darkness.

I glanced over my shoulder—Ellie turned into the staircase and climbed down.

Holding my breath, I halted.

The feeling was suffocating. It was hot, heavy, and slick. It felt like oil, but there was nothing in front of me.

Until there was.

I turned to run to the staircase.

The masked men appeared around me. Just like that. Appeared. Out of nowhere. Like shadows. But they were real. Very, very real, and very, very big.

My heart raced.

Was this it? The warning from the Romani woman. Was this death coming for me?

Wearing all black, the eight men closed in on me. On instinct, I looked into their eyes. Big, black eyes and little white. Bald with pale skin and a black mask covering the lower part of their face. I swallowed and tried to think through the panic rushing through me, threatening to take me under. I had come here to save Ellie, hadn't I? Now, she was safe, and I had to save myself.

"What do you want?" I asked, forcing my voice to come out loud and clear. And failing miserably.

Looking at me, the men extended their right hands and a thin sword appeared from dark smoke. Just like that. Again.

Holy shit...

"What do you want?" I repeated the question. For some reason, I thought they wanted me. But if so, why did they kill Layla and come after Ellie?

"I don't know about them, but we're gonna play," a new voice said.

I turned and saw three men behind the masked men, also holding swords in their hands, but these men weren't masked or wearing black.

The guy in the center stared into my eyes. "You okay?"

Ensnared by the intensity radiating from him, it took me a second to answer. "Y-yeah."

He approached, left hand raised to touch me. A black and red tattoo peeked out from under the folded sleeve of his shirt. Just a hint of thick, wavy lines.

I stepped back, wary of any of them. Afraid, actually.

He dropped his hand. "It's okay... just stay back."

"Enough talking," the guy on his left said. He had been the first voice I had heard. He raised his sword. "Let's play." He advanced on the masked men.

I jumped back while the new guys engaged the masked men in a fight. The clang of swords and the grunts of effort reached my ears, and I kept walking back and away. The blows, the jumps, the whirls... they were all so beautiful, and also crazy. All of this was too crazy.

I shot to the stairs. I ran down the steps and out to the street and back to the dance studio.

Out of breath and heart racing, I stopped by the front steps.

My mind was on the masked men. I had seen them tonight. The men who killed Layla. The men who attacked Serena. And just now had gone for Ellie. Who the hell were those people? Who the hell were those _other_ men?

That wasn't the most important thing now. The important thing was that Ellie was safe. I had gotten to her before anything bad could happen.

But for how long? For how long would I, or anyone who got too close to me, be safe?

# 3

I barely slept a wink. The events of the previous night kept replaying in my mind. Over and over and over. And every time I closed my eyes, I saw those dark eyes and those shadowy swords. Because of that, I was up at six in the morning on a Friday—when I could actually sleep in.

I had my breakfast while browsing Netflix, not really paying attention to it.

I had to get myself tired. That was the only way to force myself to sleep—a deep, dreamless sleep. I could go down to the studio and dance. Dance until I was dripping with sweat, until I couldn't lift an arm or a leg anymore, until I fell on the floor like a big blob. Then I could drag my sorry ass home, fall in my bed, and sleep for real.

I went back to my bedroom and grabbed my dance tote. It should have everything I needed to dance, but—

The doorbell rang.

I froze.

Who the hell could it be? Besides Julie and Miss Dona, no one knew where I lived, and my neighbors never bothered me.

My heart thundering in my chest, I tiptoed to the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"It's me, sweetie."

My knees gave out, and I had to reach for the knob to not fall on my butt.

Holding my breath, I opened the door.

My mother smiled at me. "Hello, my sweet Mi."

All my life, I had thought my mother was crazy. Besides her bohemian looks, which only recently had I associated with our Romani ancestry, she threw tea parties with plants from our backyard. She sat on the lawn and talked to the plants, as if they could talk back to her.

We moved constantly, and she never offered me an explanation. The only thing I remembered clearly was my mother telling me I shouldn't get attached to anyone, that I shouldn't trust anyone or make friends, because we would probably have to move again, and it would break my heart.

In all the towns we lived, she always found a small, local dance studio and taught ballet and flamenco, which she taught me too, and ironically, it was the only thing I truly loved and knew well.

When I was about eleven or twelve, I remember my mother offering tea to her students after class. Then she did a tea leaf reading for them. It was a huge success, but to me, it all seemed like lies. Why was she tricking them like that? Because she was tricking them, right? She couldn't really read tea leaves, and all she told them was things she came up with.

I wasn't so sure about that anymore.

When Layla and her family were killed, my mother freaked out. We were living in south Florida then, and she moved us all the way to northern California—with many, many crazy stops on the way, like Savannah, Atlanta, Philadelphia, Detroit, Toronto, Chicago, Nashville, New Orleans, Dallas, and so on. She made a huge zigzag across the United States and Canada that lasted three months, as if trying to lose whoever was following us. But at the time, I was too young, and she just looked like an insane person to me.

We had our big falling out when I was seventeen. All my classmates were getting ready for college applications. They were all talking about the majors they wanted, the colleges they were applying to... They were all so excited about their futures, while I had no idea if I was going to stay in town until the end of high school.

I wanted to go to college too, but every time I brought it up to my mother, she just told me I didn't need college. I could continue teaching ballet and flamenco with her. Maybe someday, when things were normal, we could open our own dance studio.

But I wanted more. I got several college applications, ones that had good dance programs, and before filling out the forms, I tried talking to her again. She didn't want to listen. Upset, I waited until after my high school graduation to tell her I had been accepted to almost all the colleges I had applied to. All I needed to do was pick one and move. She freaked. Even more than when Layla and her family died. She told me I was out of my mind, that she would never let me go, that I couldn't stay in the same place for four or five years, live in dorms, unprotected.

"What does that even mean?" I had asked her. "Why do I need to be protected?"

Once more, she didn't tell me.

So, I packed my things and left.

And that, over thirteen months ago, was the last time I had spoken to my mother.

I sucked in a sharp breath. My mother, Marisa, looked the same as ever. Her long, dark curls were tied up in a half-braid. A dark green bandana adorned her beautiful, ageless face, emphasizing the green flecks in her hazel eyes. Big golden hoops adorned her ears, and red lipstick colored her full lips. She wore a simple beige blouse with fringe and a long orange skirt.

It was like looking in a mirror previewing the future.

"Mom," I whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Won't you invite me in, sweetie?"

I frowned. Should I invite her in? Once I let her in, it would be hard to push her out.

With a long sigh, I stepped back.

My mother strolled into my apartment, taking everything in. We had never lived in big houses or apartments, but somehow this apartment made me embarrassed. I wished I had something better to show her, as if saying, "Here. I succeeded."

I wondered what crossed her mind as she took in my place. The front door opened to the living room with a couch and a coffee table. I had only a few pieces of furniture, most of which came from yard sales, and no decorations. In the back, a tall counter and two stools and, behind it, the tiny kitchen with outdated appliances. And, to the right, in between the kitchen and the living room, two doors—one for the bathroom and one for my bedroom.

"I thought you were going to move to the dorms," my mother said, walking to the couch.

"Hmm, I thought about it, but most dorms aren't open year-round, and I needed a place where I could stay between semesters." Since I had nowhere else to go.

"Makes sense."

"Mom... what are you doing here?"

She halted in front of the couch and faced me. "I heard about the attack last night."

My mouth fell open. "W-what? How?"

"That's not important, I just—"

"Of course it's important!"

Her eyes widened as if I had tried to slap her. Then she relaxed. Taking a deep breath and averting her eyes, she walked toward the kitchen.

"Wait," I called, following her. After the look on her face, she would try and escape? She would continue lying to me? Keeping things from me? I didn't think so. "Spill it."

My mother opened the kitchen cabinets, mostly empty, until she found the shoebox that served as my tea box. With automatic movements, she filled a kettle with clean water, turned to the range, and lit it. She kept her back to me, in silence.

"Mom," I tried again, "please. You have to talk to me. You have to tell me what is going on."

She sighed and finally turned around. Her eyes found mine, sadness and desperation dripping from them. "I'm not sure where to begin."

"Risking being cliché, I would say, how about from the beginning?" I stepped closer to her, trying to give her courage to continue. "What you're going to tell me, is it connected to why we moved so much?"

"Yes."

If my curiosity had a meter, it would have reached the limit. "Tell me," I urged. I sat on one of the stools in front of the tall counter.

The kettle screamed. My mother went to it, turned the range off, and prepared her tea. I bit my lip and clasped my hands together, urging my anxiety to calm down and wait. She would talk, wouldn't she?

My mother brought the tea and two mugs to the counter and sat beside me. She served us while my chest was being ripped by my curiosity.

Her eyes found mine again. This time, they shone with pride. "We are tziganes."

I blinked. "Say what?"

"We are an ancient race, descendants of the Romani."

"Romani... I knew we were Romani." I extended my arms beside my body. "Look at us. We're just like Romani."

She shook her head. "No, we're more than simply Romani. We're tziganes."

"You say that word as if I should know what it means."

"It's not supposed to be understood. It's like Romani and shamans and witches and demons. They just exist."

My mouth fell open. "You're telling me witches and demons exist?" If she really believed this, she was more insane than I thought she was.

My mother smiled, but it wasn't a happy one. "They do exist, but not like you've seen on TV or in comic books. They're quite different."

"Mom, wait." I raised my hands and stared into her eyes, trying to find the lie in them. There was none. "Shit, you're serious." I stood and paced in the small open space between the kitchen counter and the back of the couch. "How come you are a ... tzigane?"

"You're a tzigane too, Mirella. You're my daughter, which makes you a tzigane."

Me, a tzigane? Yeah, right. I didn't feel like a tzigane. I wasn't a tzigane. What the hell was a tzigane?

I glanced at the tea box and remembered hers. It was a big, wooden box, with several beautiful swirly carvings. "So, all the plant talking, the tarot cards, the runes, the tea leaf reading ... that's all tzigane stuff?" She nodded. "But it's not real, right? It's all part of the tradition."

"Anything is real when you believe in it," she said. Why, for the first time in my life, did she sound serious and non-crazy?

I swallowed hard. "How about the sixth sense?"

"Everyone has a sixth sense. Romani people have an acute sixth sense, but tziganes know how to access and use it." The corner of her lips curled up in a faint smile. "Yours has always been strong."

"It has not," I snapped, as if I had to justify myself to her. But it was. And since my last move alone, it had been even stronger. "Why now? Why didn't I feel it this strong before?"

The pride vanished from her features and was replaced by embarrassment. "Usually, our powers become stronger with age."

"Tell me, Mother, what else have you hidden from me?" I barked. Zillions of questions zoomed in my mind. "I want to know it all. You said a tzigane has powers—then where are yours? Did my father know you're a tzigane? He left because you're a tzigane? Why did we keep moving? Why wouldn't you let me get close to people?" Gulping, I splayed my hands over the counter. "Why were my friends attacked?"

My mother reached across the counter and held my hand in hers. She took a deep breath, and avoiding my eyes, she started on my questions. "Our powers have to be nourished, otherwise they become just senses, and over time, we lose them. I was banished from my enclave a long time ago, which put a stop to most of my powers. Your father knew I was a tzigane, but I don't think that was the reason he left." Her eyes filled with tears. Mine too. She was finally speaking about my father. "You're a strong tzigane, and I felt it soon after your birth. I tried to keep you at bay, but it wasn't always easy. So, we had to move when I felt it was not safe for you anymore."

I squeezed her hand. "Why? Why did we have to move? Safe from what?"

"Tziganes have many enemies. Evil people who want our powers. That's why most live together in enclaves. Since I was banished, we had to live in hiding."

"Who are they, the enemies?"

"I-I'm not sure," her voice quavered. She was hiding something. Why? After all she had just told me, she still hid things from me.

"How about who almost attacked my friend last night?" Then, I thought better. "There were two groups. The masked men and other men with swords but no masks."

"You were saved by the warriors from my previous enclave."

My mouth fell open. "You're telling me there is an enclave here? In Broken Hill?"

"It isn't exactly in Broken Hill," she explained as she poured more tea into her mug. "It's deeper into the north. And there are two enclaves there, about five miles from each other."

I sipped from my tea, the many thoughts and realizations swimming freely in my head, making me more confused than not.

"That's how I knew of the attack," she continued. "The rom baro called me and—"

"Rom baro?"

"That's what an enclave's leader is called. Rom baro," she repeated. I nodded as if it made sense. "Oscar, the rom baro, called me because he assumed you were my daughter."

It was too much for my mind.

"What now?" I asked, my voice low.

"I don't know," my mother said. Then she continued, "No, I do know. You should move in with me. I'm not a tzigane warrior, but I can protect you in many ways."

"Mom... I'm not going back to Florida." Which begged the question... "How are you here?" I did the math in my mind. The distance from Florida to Broken Hill, and the few hours between the attack and now. It didn't add up. "How are you here?" I repeated.

She stared at me for a long time. "About that. I've been living in Broken Hill for the last eight months."

I stood. "What?"

"I tried giving you space and letting you do your own thing, but I couldn't, Mirella. Knowing all the threats waiting to find one of us, I couldn't stay away. I understand you need space and time, so I gave them to you. I moved closer, but I let you be."

"You've been keeping track of me?"

"Not as well as I wanted, it seems, since you were attacked."

I took a step back. At every turn, she surprised me more and more. "Are you for real?"

"Mirella." She stood, her hands out, as if trying to wave for peace. "You have to understand. Now our enemies know they are close to a powerful tzigane. They won't give up."

"P-powerful tzigane?"

"You, my sweetie. You're very powerful."

I looked down at my hands. Despite the strong sixth sense, which told me my mother _wasn't_ lying, I didn't feel anything. There was no power, no magic, nothing out of the ordinary.

"This is crazy," I whispered.

My mother was here, had been here for months, we were supposed to be a mythical, powerful race, and there were some deadly looking men after us? Did I miss anything?

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I've tried keeping you from this life, I tried keeping you away from the constant hunt, and I failed."

"No, Mom, you failed me when you chose not to tell me the truth. And I sense you're still holding back." I crossed my arms. "I'm waiting. Tell me."

She averted her eyes and shook her head. "It's not that easy..."

"You can't say I didn't try." I marched to my bedroom, then paused and pointed to the door. "You know where the exit is."

My chest heaving with frustration, I entered my bedroom and slammed the door shut.

I leaned against the wall and listened. It took her a moment, but I heard when my mother opened and closed the front door.

For twenty years, I had believed my mother was crazy, sometimes bipolar, and eccentric. It turned out those were her traits, her personality, what made her who she was. With a little time, I believed I could forgive that. However, I couldn't forgive the rest. All my life, my mother had been lying to me, hiding things from me, more than I once believed. It was not only about my father. It was about our origins, about her banishment, about evil people who hunted us, and the yet-to-be-believed powers.

Since I was a little kid, my mother had taught me not to trust others, purposely forgetting to teach me not to trust her either.

# 4

I shot up, screaming my lungs out.

I looked around. I was in my bed, in my bedroom. Alone.

My forehead dripped with sweat and my hands shook, but other than that, I was all right. It had been a nightmare. Just a nightmare. I took a deep breath and tried calming down.

Untangling the sheets from my legs, I hopped off my bed and walked into my bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face.

It had been two nights since the attack from the masked men, and only now I was having nightmares filled with them? Why not the previous night too?

Not able to sleep anymore, I ate breakfast, not really tasting anything. I took a shower, put on some clothes, and went to the dance studio. I didn't have classes until later that morning, but it was better than staying home and letting my mind wander. Or remembering my mother had come over yesterday—and that she was living close by.

I walked out of the building's front door and stopped to look at the green flower beds. At the end of the summer, they still looked manicured and as lush as the peak of spring.

A memory crossed my mind. It didn't matter where we had lived, my mother always planted golden shrubs around the perimeter of our house or apartment building. They were rare plants, with shimmering golden petals, and they endured any kind of weather, even the harshest of winters. Our neighbors had always asked lots of questions about them. What were they called? Where did we get them? How did they shine? I hadn't the slightest idea of the answers.

Something moved to my left and I snapped my head in that direction. A figure stepped into the narrow alleyway between the two apartment buildings—a man with a black hoodie and lowered head. My heartbeat shot up, remembering the masked men from two nights ago. Shit. This guy wasn't one of them. Was he? No. The alleyway led to a small backyard and the building's back door. He was just another tenant or a visitor.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I hurried to the dance studio. And all the while, my sixth sense tingled. I had the odd feeling I was being followed, but every time I looked back, I didn't see anything unusual. Perhaps my sixth sense was a little frayed after the scare in the parking garage.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and let the sultry August air scorch my lungs, hoping it would bring clarity and sanity to my life. The day was quite beautiful. No clouds disturbed the immense blue sky, and the high, hot sun reigned alone.

Julie looked up from the computer the moment I walked in the studio. "What are you doing here so early? You don't have any classes until ten thirty."

"I know. I just wanted to come dance a little. Is that okay?"

She smiled at me. "As if you needed to ask." Then she smiled to someone at the door. "Good morning."

I turned around.

"Morning," Phillip said. Then his eyes met mine. "Hi."

"Miss Reyes!" Annie yelled. She opened her little arms and came running to me. I bent my knees and picked her up.

"Hello there," I said to both of them.

"Are we too early?" Phillip asked, looking from me to Julie. "I wasn't sure if the class was at eight thirty or nine."

"It's at nine," Julie answered. "But that's okay. If you need to go, I can watch her until her teacher arrives."

"Oh." He returned his eyes to me. "You aren't the hip-hop teacher?"

"No," I said, dropping Annie back on the floor. "But Miss Johnson is great. Annie will love her."

"That's... good." Phillip approached her. "Daddy has to run some errands, but you can stay here with Miss Julie and Miss Reyes, okay?"

With an arm hooked around my leg, Annie nodded. "Okay."

He looked at me again. "I'm sorry for this. I didn't realize the class was later and made an appointment with a client I can't cancel."

"It's fine," I told him, mildly curious about his job.

As if sensing the question in my mind, Annie said, "Daddy makes medicine."

Phillip smiled. "Not exactly, sweetheart. I work in the pharmaceutical industry, research for new medicine. I don't make them."

She shrugged as if it was all the same to her.

"That sounds like a good profession," I said.

"It is. It's always satisfying when I find something that could help others."

"Yeah, that does sound great."

"Oh." He pulled out a small white box from the inside pocket of his coat. "I... I saw this the other day and thought of you." He handed me the box.

Gawking at the box, I cradled it in my hands. "Hmm, you shouldn't have."

"It's not much." He held my gaze for a brief moment and then shook his head. "Unfortunately, I have to go."

I held tight to the box and patted Annie's back. "Don't worry. She'll be fine with us."

He smiled. "Thank you." He leaned down and placed a kiss on Annie's cheek, then looked at me again. "See you later, Miss Reyes." He waved at Julie and walked away.

I watched his retreating back. He was taller than I remembered, but not too big. Still, he looked nice in his dress pants and shirt, and his bottom filled out his pants nicely.

"Hmm, what was that all about?" Julie asked, eyeing the box in my hand.

My eyes widened. "I'm not sure," I said.

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside.

"So..." I grabbed the TV remote control from Julie's desk. "What do you like to watch?"

Annie told me the name of a show I had never heard of before. Thankfully, it was easy to find. We sat down on a couch in the waiting area and watched the show. I stared at the box in my hands.

"Hey."

I glanced up and saw Ellie entering the studio. "Hi. Do you have class today?"

"No." She smiled apologetically at Julie, who handed her a pair of earrings. "It seems I keep forgetting or swapping my things." She mouthed, "Thank you," to Julie who nodded at her.

Ellie sat beside me. "And you? Do you have a class?"

"At ten thirty."

"So... the pizza place was great and the girls and I had fun. You should come with us next time."

I looked at her. Her blue eyes twinkled, and my sixth sense didn't show me anything alarming. In fact, I felt a pull toward her, toward her senses.

"Maybe I will," I said, shocked at my words.

Ellie's gaze fell on my lap. "What is that?"

I spun the white box in my hands. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I just received it. I haven't opened it yet."

"Open it already."

Biting my lip, I untied the pretty ribbon around it and opened the package.

It was a delicate necklace with a pendant of a woman dancing flamenco. There was a tiny green stone in the place of the rose in her hand.

My heart fluttered and I gasped, almost dropping it on the floor.

A note was attached to the inside of the box _. I hope you like it. Phillip._ His phone number was written on the corner of the note.

"Who is Phillip?" Ellie asked, spying from over my shoulder.

For a moment, I couldn't answer. My head spun. Why was he giving me gifts?

"My daddy," Annie answered, surprising us. My eyes widened and I glanced from Ellie to Annie. "He likes Miss Reyes."

"Say what?" I shrieked.

"He hasn't said it," Annie said. "But I can sense it."

She could sense it? How?

Beside me, Ellie chuckled with her hand over her mouth. Thankfully, Annie returned her attention to the TV. I grabbed Ellie's arm and pulled her to a corner of the room.

"Stop laughing."

She pressed her hand tighter over her mouth. "I'm not laughing."

"Right."

She finally dropped her hand. "Is he cute?"

"That's your first question?"

"Of course it is. Well, I'm single right now, and that's what I first notice when I see a guy." She winked at me.

A chuckle burst out of me. "You're something else."

"You didn't answer the question."

I took a deep breath. "Yes, he's cute. Very cute, actually."

"Cute guy wins a point." She glanced to the necklace. "Hmm, I think he is in love," Ellie teased.

"Say what?" I closed the necklace in my hands as if protecting it. "I barely talked to him. I thought he was a responsible single father, but now he is just acting like any guy, trying to get a girl in bed."

"Not all guys are like that."

I thought back to high school. I didn't know if my bohemian looks gave guys some vibe of easy, but I had to deal with a lot of vulgar catcalls back then. "The ones I know are."

"Besides, are responsible single parents supposed to wait for love until their kids are adults? I don't think so."

I glanced down at the necklace. "Stop making me think about this more than I should."

She smiled at me, amused. "Come on, do you really think he would have sent this?" She pointed to the necklace. "With a flamenco dancer and all, if he didn't care?" Could she be right? But men weren't to be trusted. "Give him a chance. Go grab a coffee with him. He might surprise you."

Well, I hadn't dated much, but I missed going out, flirting, cuddling, kissing, and all. And Phillip had scored some points with the necklace. Going out for a coffee with him couldn't hurt, could it?

When I got home that afternoon, my mother was waiting for me. She was leaning against the wall beside my apartment's door, two large paper bags in her arms.

"I don't think you have been feeding yourself properly, so I thought I could make you a nice dinner."

I sighed, wishing I were more of a bitch. Then I could walk into my apartment, slam the door in her face, and go about my evening without feeling an ounce of guilt.

However, I wasn't a bitch, not to that extent anyway.

Without a word, I unlocked my door and pushed it open, letting her pass before me.

As if she visited me three times per day, my mother strolled into my kitchen and made herself right at home. She hummed while she put the groceries away and started on whatever dinner she was planning.

I just watched. That was how she wanted it to be? She would come in here, try to be in my life, but still not let me in? She wanted to be a part of my life, but I couldn't be a part of hers? We wouldn't talk? Wouldn't discuss the huge abyss between us?

Maybe I was a bitch, because right now, I didn't want to be the first to give in.

With a long sigh, I went to my bedroom.

In the end, I had danced all day. I had participated in Annie's hip-hop class in the morning, and I had waved at Phillip when he came to pick her up later, but I hadn't approached him because I didn't know what to say. Not yet. Then I taught my ballet class, had a quick lunch break, and had my flamenco class. And when I was alone in the dance studio, I danced some flamenco and reggaeton for over ninety minutes. Now I was sweaty and exhausted.

After a quick shower and putting on a simple dress with long fringes down my legs, I stared at my bedroom door. I had to get out there at some point. I had to face my mother, talk to her. Maybe she would talk to me.

The doorbell rang.

What the hell?

I opened my bedroom door and heard my mother's voice. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, ma'am. Thanks," a male voice said. He sounded young and yet powerful and petulant.

I stepped out of the bedroom.

One of the guys from that night of the attack stood in my living room. A few lines of his black and red tattoo appeared from under his folded sleeve.

My heart jumped to my throat, and I thought I would choke on it.

He turned his sharp amber eyes to me, and I sucked in a sharp breath. He was more striking than I remembered. More powerful, more stoic. He was tall, lean, and strong. His hair, almost the same amber tone as his eyes, was long enough that it curled under his ears, under the small silver hoop on his right ear. A little stubble covered his chiseled chin and jaw, and emphasized his full lips.

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts of any idea that behind his stoic pose, this guy was attractive.

I glanced toward my mother, who moved awkwardly and unsure by his side.

"Mirella," my mother finally said, "this is Artan, Oscar's son."

Oscar? Why did that name ring a bell? Then it hit me. He was the rom baro my mother mentioned yesterday.

Shit. Artan was one of them. And he had saved me. Oh shit.

He bowed his head at me. "Good evening."

"Hi," I muttered, not sure what I was supposed to do. I glanced around. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I was sent to escort you to my enclave," Artan said, his tone matching the determination in his eyes.

"What?" My stomach dropped to my knees. I turned to my mother. She was staring at the floor. "That's why you came over? Because you wanted to take me to your old enclave?" I asked her, but she shook her head.

"No, your mother can't go," Artan said. "She's still banished."

Yeah, right. One, I wasn't going anywhere with strangers. And two, even if I considered the option, I wouldn't go without my mother, since this was all because of her past.

I walked past him, opened the door, and pointed out. "You can go now."

I did a double take. Leaned against the rail guard a few feet to the side, a girl waited. She looked a year or two younger than me. Her hair was a shade lighter than Artan's, falling straight and long down her back, a pink bandana around her head and large silver hoops in her ears. She smiled and waved at me. I grimaced and turned to Artan. "Who is she?"

"My sister, Ryane," he said.

"Well, Artan, you tell your clan—"

"Enclave."

"Say what?"

"We use the term enclave," he explained.

"Whatever. Go back to your father, and tell him I don't take rides from strangers." I gestured toward the door again. "Nor do I go to strangers' houses."

For a moment, Artan held my gaze and I saw his determination battling something else, something I couldn't name. "My father won't be pleased."

"That's not my problem."

Glaring at me and ignoring my mother, Artan walked out. I slammed the door behind him, hoping it illustrated my point. Who did he think he was? More importantly, _I_ didn't know who he was. I did not want to go anywhere with him. He could be another lunatic, or a serial killer, or a rapist.

In the living room, I watched him through the window, hidden behind the curtains. I wanted to make sure he and his sister left.

When their car turned the corner and disappeared into the night, my mother stood beside me.

"You shouldn't anger them. They are powerful."

"I don't care," I repeated my previous words. "You're the one who taught me to trust no one. Why would I get into his car and let him drive me to a place I don't know, with people I don't care about?"

"Mirella." My mother took a deep breath, her eyes serious as I turned my back to her. "You're playing with fire. You'll get burned."

# 5

I snapped my fingers and stomped my foot on the floor. My hips undulated and I bent my elbows to follow their movements. It was as if the music went along with me, not the opposite.

My last class of the evening had just finished, and my students were gone. Now I could dance by myself for an hour before the studio closed. It was the best I could come up with on a Friday night. While most twenty-year-olds were getting ready for parties, dinners, and dates, I was sweating in a dance classroom.

Just my kind of night.

I clapped my hands and, with the music, spun. As my body naturally followed the rhythm, my mind raced.

It had been a week since my mother appeared back in my life, and she was already trying to take more than I was ready to offer. In the past week, she had showed up at my apartment and at the dance studio more times than I would like to admit. I wanted to shut her out, like I had done when I moved away, but now that she was here and in my life, I found I couldn't be that mean to her again. So, I let her be, as long as she didn't bother me and didn't stick her nose in my business.

The beat changed and I whirled, stomping my foot along with it.

The tingling invaded my mind, and I almost fell on the floor, startled.

Damn it. I hated this sixth sense thing. I hadn't talked in depth to my mother about it, and I tried to pretend it didn't exist, but I was starting to think I couldn't ignore it anymore.

The tingles pressed upon me again, and the pendant inside my bra heated up.

I turned down the music and closed my eyes. I focused on the tingles. I had no idea what I was doing, if I was doing it right or not, but it was the only thing I knew about this. I pushed my senses out, expanding their reach, trying to find the source of whatever had disturbed my dancing session.

I found it. Whatever it was, it was coming from the reception area.

What could it be? It was late at night, on a Friday, and there were only three people inside the studio—Miss Dona, Julie, and me. I hoped this tingling sensation didn't mean we were in danger like a few of the times it had happened before.

Sensing my distress, my heartbeat quickened. The tingles assaulted me again. All right, all right. I walked to the front, to the reception desk.

I gasped, my heart rate going sky-high.

Phillip entered the school. "Hello there," he said, a wide smile taking over his features.

"Hi," I mumbled. My heart was still beating fast. I glanced at Julie. She worked on some papers behind her desk, clearly not caring about us. "Um, what are you doing here? And where's Annie?"

"She went out for dinner with my mother. I'll pick her up in a little while." He stepped closer. "As for your other question, do you really need to ask that?"

"Well..." I tucked a loose strand of hair and averted my eyes. Phillip was probably twenty-five or six—not a guy, but a man—and apparently he was interested in me. What did I make of that? What did I say to that?

"So." He stepped closer. "I could accept if you rejected me, but I had to find out why you didn't call me. Didn't you like the necklace?"

"I did," I said. Poor guy. He was cute and obviously attentive, and I hadn't given him the time of day. That didn't seem fair. "I was going to call you."

He took another step closer, his eyes almost wary. "I'll pretend I believe that. Better yet, let's pretend you already did. So, here I am, to give you a ride home."

Say what? Yeah, right, like I would get into a car with a guy I didn't know. Perhaps it was time for me to start using a sign over my head: _I'm not good at trusting people, especially men. Get over it._

"You see, I'm in the middle of my workout."

"At 9 p.m. on a Friday?" His eyebrows arched up.

"Yes. It is the only time I can dance alone, with no students running around." A lie... I had several moments during the week.

He tilted his head, studying me. "Perhaps I could wait."

"No. I can't do that to you. I tend to dance late."

He leaned closer, and I held my breath, afraid his citrus scent messed with my mind. "Then I could watch."

"Um, I don't think that would be a good idea."

His hand moved toward me, and then he thought better and hid it behind his back. "I'm not giving up yet."

"I can live with that."

A pleased grin adorned his lips. "Okay. Good night, then."

"Good night," I whispered, my heart beating fast as I watched him leave the studio.

I thought about calling Phillip many times over the weekend, but I easily gave in to my fears. And the fact that my mother spent most of her time in my apartment didn't help—she was always hovering, watching me, waiting... but I had no idea why.

On Tuesday, Annie waited after the class was done.

I knelt before her. "What is it, sweet bun?" Her big green eyes blinked at me, shining with unshed tears. "Oh my." I opened my arms and she ran smack into them. "What happened?"

"Annie." Phillip showed up at the door. "Let Miss Reyes go."

She didn't let go of me. Instead, her grip around my neck got tighter. With his brows drawn close together, Phillip walked into the classroom.

I stood with Annie in my arms. "I don't know what happened," I mouthed to him.

"I do." He patted her back. "She's sad because you're leaving."

I froze. "What?"

"Is that why you've been refusing to go out with me? You could have just told me. I would have stopped bothering you." He paused. "Maybe."

I felt a crease forming on my forehead. "I'm not leaving. Who said that?"

Phillip looked puzzled. "She said you're leaving. Aren't you?"

"No." I gently pulled Annie back so I could stare into her eyes. "I'm not leaving, sweet bun. Who told you that?"

"Nobody," she said. "I just know you'll leave." A cold shiver ran down my backbone. "I don't want you to leave."

I kept my pose. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." I handed her to Phillip. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be here next class."

She nodded and buried her face into her father's arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered. His voice was hopeful when he said, "I'll talk to you later?"

Absently, I nodded.

My gaze followed as they walked out of the classroom while my mind spun around Annie's words. Why the hell did she think I was leaving? Where had she heard that?

That was crazy.

Shaking my head, I cleaned up the classroom and went to the dressing room. I was too tired today to dance by myself like I did most evenings.

I was changing into my ripped jeans and loose green blouse when my mother came into the dressing room.

"Ready to go home?" she asked.

I gawked at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." She smiled at me. "I'm gonna make dinner for you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why? Did you invite Artan to my apartment again?"

She scoffed. "Can't I just want to spend time with my daughter?"

More time than she already had last week? She lost that right when she didn't let me go to college, forcing me to move away and leave her behind, and then again when I found out she kept so much from me and was still hiding things.

However, I didn't want to hurt her feelings, not the way she always hurt mine.

I opened my mouth to blurt out a lie, when two girls entered the dressing room.

"Hey, Mirella," Ellie said.

"Hey," I answered.

Ellie sat by my side to change out of her dancing uniform. Besides flamenco on Thursdays, Ellie and Tonia were now taking jazz for adults on Tuesdays. "Remember I told you about doing another pizza night? We're going now. Want to come?"

"Yeah," Tonia, the other dancer, said. "You should come. It's the best pizza in all Broken Hill."

Well, there was my excuse not to go home. I glanced at my mother.

"Have fun," she said. A weak smile adorned her face as she turned toward the door.

A sick feeling filled my stomach. "Thanks," I muttered.

"Why did you move to Broken Hill?" Tonia asked after swallowing a big bite of her pizza.

It was indeed the best pizza I had ever had, and the place was nice too. Not too big, cozy, with dim lights, and a heavy, delicious cheese smell. And I was having a good time with Tonia and Ellie. Two other girls from their class couldn't come, and another had already left. So far, they seemed a nice bunch.

Now, how to answer her question. "I was accepted into college here."

"How about your mother?" Ellie asked. "I'm assuming that lady in the dressing room was your mother..."

"Yeah, she is." I swallowed hard. "I moved first, and then she got lonely and moved here too," I lied. Perhaps it wasn't entirely a lie.

Tonia smiled. "Aw, that's so sweet."

While eating, we talked about friends, boys, horrible years in high school, dancing, and partying. Tonia and Ellie were about my age—nineteen and twenty—and they both studied at Broken Hill University too.

"I have a secret. My dream was always to go to Juilliard," Tonia revealed. Earlier in the evening, she had told us about her many years of ballet training. The waitress had just brought our bill over. "But I haven't been consistent in my training since starting college, and I never passed an audition. I get too nervous and can't stop shaking. It ruins my performance."

"I had that dream when I was younger and loved ballet," Ellie said. "But ballet apparently never loved me since I wasn't that good." We chuckled. "Nevertheless, I wouldn't have the money to go to Juilliard. I'm at BHU because I have a scholarship."

"And you? Don't you wanna go to Juilliard or some other big dance school?" Tonia asked, bumping her elbow on my arm. We handed our credit cards to the waitress. "You dance so well. I bet you could get in."

I sighed. I would love to go to Juilliard, but besides the money, I had just moved here. My goal was to finish the dance program some time this century—I would never stay on track in the program taking only two or three classes per semester—then auditions for companies. I would probably be too old to join a company then, but I had to try.

"I don't have the money either," I said. "I guess I'll always be a wannabe dancer-slash-instructor."

"At least you can work with dance," Tonia said and I nodded. "My father wants me to be a lawyer, ugh."

Dance was way too important to me. It made me feel alive, special, and powerful. Each time I danced, I felt like anything was possible. And, besides our similar looks, it was the only thing I had in common with my mother.

The waitress brought our credit cards back, and we walked out into the warm, busy night of downtown Broken Hill.

"It was a fun evening," Ellie said as we approached her car, which was parked a half block down the street. "I hope you can make it to our weekly dates." Her smile was genuine and my heart squeezed.

Because of all the moving and trust issues, I had never had a chance to make real friends. Or boyfriends. When things got a little serious, I dumped the guys before they could dump me. Only once I thought I wanted to try and give a guy more time. Then my mother and I moved again and he was left behind.

"Yeah." I returned her smile. "I think I would like that."

"Me too," Tonia agreed. "Well, see you girls next class."

"Where are you going?" I asked, worried she would wander through the streets alone at night.

"I live a block from here, just around the corner." She pointed toward it. "Bye, girls."

"Bye," Ellie and I said as she disappeared from our sight.

Ellie took her car keys from her purse, and when we were a few feet from it, she clicked the unlocking button. And I halted.

She turned to me. "What's wrong?"

"Shh." I put my finger over my mouth and closed my eyes.

A tickling sensation crawled inside my mind, and it didn't feel natural. I focused on it. The stir intensified and stabbed at the back of my head. A warning. It was my sixth sense, and it was trying to warn me. I took a deep breath and let the conscious walls of my mind slip away. They swarmed out, sensing and recognizing everything around me. There it was—whatever I was supposed to be warned about—across the street.

My eyes shot open, and I glanced to where my senses had guided me.

A dark red Jeep Wrangler with an open top was parked in the spot I had sensed the disturbance coming from.

"Come on," I whispered, beckoning for Ellie to follow me.

Slowly, we crossed the street and I saw a wide, two panel, metal garage door behind the Jeep, placed between two decaying buildings, one panel half-opened.

Whatever the warning was, it came from behind the gate.

I stepped closer and bumped my nose into a wall.

"Ow." I retreated a step and stared up at the wall.

"Hi there," The Wall said. Wearing dark jeans and a loose, white, button-up shirt, The Wall was tall and wide and had thick, dark hair down to his shoulders, several small golden hoops covered his left ear. The sharp angles of The Wall's tanned face could cut through metal, I was sure, and his dark brown eyes gleamed with amusement. "You should be more careful where you walk."

I rubbed my nose. "And you should come with blinkers. Or a blaring horn."

The Wall chuckled loudly. "Sense of humor, interesting." I frowned, trying to find the thread my senses had followed. It was gone. The Wall leaned down closer. "Are you okay? It didn't hurt, did it?"

I touched my nose again. "It hurts, but I don't think it's broken."

"Good." He extended his hand to me. "I'm Theron, by the way."

I stared at his hand for a moment. I felt it... it tugging for me, deep inside. Something I couldn't name. I didn't know how to name. But it was there and it was beckoning for me. Calling me.

Ellie took advantage of that and slipped her hand into Theron's. "Hi, I'm Ellie, Mirella's best friend."

I turned wide eyes at her, but she was too distracted by The Wall. _Best_ friend? We had known each for two weeks.

With a lopsided grin, Theron glanced from Ellie to me and back to Ellie. "Nice to meet you, Ellie." He pulled his hand back.

She flipped her hair back and batted her lashes at him. "The pleasure is all mine."

Oh my God, could she be any more obvious?

I cleared my throat. "Sorry for bothering you, but we should get going."

Just then, another guy stepped out of the garage, almost as tall and wide as Theron. I grabbed Ellie's arm and pulled her away before getting a good look at him.

I felt their gazes on us as we crossed the street.

"What are you doing?" Ellie whispered to me as if they were still close to us. "I want to get to know him."

Chuckling, I opened the passenger door of her car. "He's a stranger."

"Well, I could have changed that."

I didn't doubt that.

Ellie slipped into the car. I tried not looking back, I really did, but I couldn't resist. As I lowered myself to get in the car, I glanced over my shoulder at the garage. A tall woman with long dark hair now stood beside Theron and the other guy, and the three of them stared at us as if we had stumbled upon their secret and were now running away to tell the entire world.

A chill ran down my spine.

# 6

Of course, I found my mother at my place when I got home Saturday afternoon from the dance studio.

She had shown up at my apartment more and more over the past few days. Sometimes it was to cook dinner, sometimes it was to cook lunch, sometimes it was to bring groceries, and sometimes it was to clean the place. It was like having a personal maid, and since she wasn't really trying to talk to me or bothering me, I indulged her. After all, she was feeding me better than I had eaten since I moved out, she was keeping my place clean, and we shared the same blood.

My mother and I had never had an easy relationship. As far as I could remember, she had always been aloof and reserved. I knew she kept stuff from me. I didn't know anything about my father. Until recently, I had known nothing about her past, her parents. Nothing. Zero. The only thing she had told me when I was younger was that she had trusted my father and got hurt. Too hurt. She kept saying we shouldn't trust anyone, no men, not even our own family. Had she tried to say I couldn't trust her?

Well, it worked. I grew to be a suspicious and reserved girl who, at twenty, had never had a best friend, aside from Layla, or a serious boyfriend, besides the occasional hook up.

But I couldn't say my life with her had been all bad. She had given me dance. Instead of going to a daycare, I spent my days at dance studios with her, first only watching, then imitating, later learning, and now teaching. And that part filled my whole chest with happiness and hope. I didn't need anything else right now.

I had just arrived home when my phone vibrated in my pocket. On the screen, I saw Ellie's name.

A smile spread across my lips. Despite my rather weak efforts to keep my distance from her, Ellie and I had talked or seen each other every day this week. We even had lunch on campus together twice. She was funny, happy, and simply contagious. It was hard not letting her in.

"We're going clubbing tonight," she said once I answered.

"We?"

"Yeah, you, me and a couple of my friends from BHU."

I waved at my mother, who was in the kitchen cooking as usual, and went to my bedroom. "Hmm, I don't remember agreeing to that."

"Come on, it will be fun. And I bet my life you'll love the club."

I thought it over for a minute. "Why? How is the club?"

"Take my word for it. Come on, Mi. Do you have anything better to do?"

I glanced back to my bedroom's door. My mother was on the other side, taking over my apartment and still not opening up to me, not even talking properly to me, afraid I would take that as an invitation to ask more questions.

"Okay, I'll go." My gaze fell on the white box sitting on top of my dresser. Slowly, I opened it and stared at the beautiful necklace. I ran my fingertip over the flamenco dancer pendant. Then something flared in my chest. A need. A wanting. Hmm. "Can I invite a friend too?"

"Sure," she said. "I'll pick you up at nine."

"Okay."

As soon as we disconnected, I put the necklace around my neck and dialed another number.

"Hello?" Phillip answered. I could see the furrow between his brows. He didn't know my number.

"Hi. It's me." I bit my lip, butterflies flying in my chest.

"Whoa, that's a nice surprise."

I couldn't help the smile on my lips. "I'm going out with some friends tonight. Would you like to come?"

"I don't want you to go out," my mother said from my bedroom door.

I was almost ready. Just needed a little more mascara, lip gloss, perfume, and done.

"I'm serious, Mirella. I have this feeling." She put her closed fist over her heart. "It's not good."

I turned away from the mirror and stood before her. "Don't worry. I'm wearing the thingie you gave me. It's in my bra. Always. Like I promised you it would be." Even when I had moved out on my own, I felt guilty for even considering not wearing it. So, I wore it. Always.

"I'm glad it is, but that won't protect you from everything."

I put a hand on my waist. "And what do I need protection from? Our enemies? And who are they?" My mother averted her eyes, her lips pressed into a tight line. "You never give me answers."

In front of the mirror again, I applied more lip gloss, made a pose to see if everything was okay. It seemed to be. I had chosen an off-the-shoulder dark green dress that went down to my thighs to some lace pattern that went on for another three inches, long, feather earrings, a few bracelets, and high-heel sandals with straps that wound up to my knees. I was almost tall in them.

Deciding I was done, I grabbed my wristlet and walked past my mother and down the stairs to wait for Ellie, who should be on her way, at the door.

"Please, understand. It's my sixth sense." My mother caught up with me and tried to put herself between the door and me. Wrong move.

I sighed. "I get it about the sixth sense, but mine flares up every now and then and most of the time, it's nothing. It's just someone I know getting close." Her sixth sense was probably acting up because she was worried, and she was always worried. "It's okay."

She reached for me. "It's not okay—"

I jerked back. "Mom, I'm going."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "Mirella, what do I have to do to make you reconsider?"

I could think of a lot of things she could say to make me reconsider. She could tell me the truth about our enemies, about her banishment, about my father... there were so many options. But I knew, I just knew that she wouldn't tell me. Not now.

Movement outside the window caught my attention, and all thoughts of maybe, just maybe, reaching my mother, of letting her reach me, fled my mind. Ellie parked her car in front of the building. My salvation had arrived, the salvation from my mother and from our awkward, tense conversations.

"Goodbye, Mother." I left without looking back.

In the car, while driving us to New Haven, a bigger town forty minutes from Broken Hill, Ellie introduced me to Raul, her classmate from BHU.

"So you're the gorgeous dancer Ellie told us about," Raul said, leaning forward. "I can see the gorgeous part."

"Soon you'll see the dancer," Ellie said, stealing a peek through the rearview mirror.

"Honey," Raul said, fluffing the pink ascot around his neck. "We all become great dancers after a few shots of alcohol."

Ellie cleared her throat. "Mirella and I aren't twenty-one yet, so you drink and we dance, okay?"

Raul winked at me. "Or perhaps I can buy some drinks and spread them around."

We laughed. Well, I was already enjoying my night. I hoped it just got better when I met Phillip. He had been able to arrange for his mother to stay with Annie overnight. He sent me a text confirming, and I texted him the name of the place, after asking Ellie.

Twenty minutes later, Ellie parked the car in the club's parking lot.

From the exterior, it looked like a big black box squeezed between other buildings on a dark street. The only distinguishing feature was the name of the place, right at the top of the building, in cutout steel letters with bright blue backlight. Muévete.

It sounded ... Latin.

It was too good to be true. "Did you bring me to a salsa club?" I asked Ellie, while we walked to the entrance line.

"Not only salsa, Mi." She smiled at me, looking proud of herself. "They play lots of flamenco and reggaeton, just the way you like."

I had known her for only a couple of weeks, and she already knew what I liked. It was amazing. Never before had I had someone who found out so much about me in so little time. It was like she really understood me. And it scared me. What if she hurt me? What if I trusted her and she hurt me, humiliated me, left me?

"Come on, honey." Raul linked his arm with mine and, moving his hips inside his tight leather pants with the beat of the music coming from the club, walked me to the line. "Relax, girl." He shook my arm. "You're tense and we're here to have fun."

Right. Fun. Could I have fun?

I glanced around. Everyone looked animated, laughing with friends, dancing in the line, talking loudly on their phones. Why couldn't I be like that too? I could. I could be like that. I could have a good time and I _would_ have a good time.

I took a deep breath and left my doubts for another time. I could worry about Ellie and her friendship later. Right now, I had a party to attend.

A few minutes later, we were inside.

On the dance floor, right in the middle of the club, people danced among dry-ice smoke along with the reggaeton that blared from the giant speakers around the place as if it was the end of the world. Colored beams of light whirled around and four mirror balls on each corner of the dance floor helped with the mood. The bar, a long black counter with high stools, was on the right. There were low tables to the left and leather sofas in the back. A small stage was set up in the front, to our left. Past the bar and beside the sofa area, black stairs led up to a balcony that overlooked the dance floor and most of the other spaces. The balcony was divided by low metal railings, low tables, and sofas in each of these spaces, like VIP zones.

"Let's grab a sofa for us," Ellie said as she led the way, weaving around the people walking near the bar, going straight to the back.

The bar was almost as alive as the dance floor. People danced, laughed, flirted ... it was contagious.

Ellie found a sofa in a U format around a low table, right in front of the dance floor and close to the bar and stairs. The people on the balcony had a privileged view of us, but that didn't bother me, nor did it seem to bother my company.

Raul let go of me before the sofa. "Okay, girls, I'm off to get us some drinks." He left, ambling like a Victoria's Secret model.

I laughed.

"Isn't he great?" Ellie asked in my ear. The music was too loud. "You aren't one of those I-don't-like-gay-people kind of people, are you?"

"Nope, nothing against them," I assured her. "And Raul does seem great."

"I thought you would like him."

Then Tonia showed up among us. "Sorry I'm late." And just like that, she walked past us, sitting down on the sofa, her arms crossed, and her brows in a deep crease.

"What's up with her?"

Ellie followed my stare. "She's sulking. Her boyfriend broke up with her last week. I'm trying to keep her busy so she won't think about him. Much."

"Oh, so you bring her to a club full of hot guys? And you think she won't think about her ex?"

"Well, yeah, better than staying home and crying. Besides, she could meet a nice guy, and forget about him." Ellie seemed like an eternal romantic, even with her cool edge and I-don't-care tone. "I'm gonna invite her to dance with us."

I nodded and turned toward the dance floor while Ellie went back to convince Tonia to dance. Something told me it wouldn't be easy.

The dance floor was booming, and I was itching to go in there and move my body with the sexy beat of the reggaeton playing. Most people dancing looked Latin, like I did, with dark hair and tanned skin, but there were lots of blonds and gingers and black and Asian people. It was nice to see mixed races enjoying the same things.

Raul came back with two guys. "Honey," he said as he passed his arm over my shoulder. "Let me introduce you. This is Rick and Carlos. Good friends of mine."

I greeted Rick and Carlos before they joined Raul on the sofa, just as Ellie came back to me with a pout.

"She won't come. And now that Raul is back with the drinks, I don't think she'll ever come."

I patted her shoulder. Then quickly pulled my hand back. I had never done that before. I had never reached out and comforted a friend. To be fair, the people I used to hang out with before moving here couldn't actually be called friends.

"Give her time," I said, hoping she hadn't noticed the stiff movement of my arm. "Now, let's dance." I gestured toward the dance floor.

Ellie's eyes shone. "Oh, yeah."

We finally entered the dance floor. We remained at the edge, where our group could still see us, but even there, it was impossible not to feel the energy crackling from, about, in and around the crowd gathered dancing. Perfume and aftershave mixed with the smell of sweat, but it didn't bother me. It actually matched the setting.

I just couldn't resist anymore. I yielded and moved along with the beat. My hips undulated, my arms swirled around, my head snapped from side to side, making my curls fly around.

From the limited space, my legs ended up bumping Ellie's one too many times and we joked, leaning against each other and brushing our shoulders together. That got the attention of some guys. They whistled and clapped and asked for more. Ellie and I just laughed, having a blast. Then the music changed. Flamenco.

My eyes went wide and Ellie clapped, knowing I would be in ecstasy. And I was.

It was a modern, more popular flamenco song, remixed with some electronic beats, but oh, it was great. My hips and my heels would soon break from moving and stomping so much.

When the music changed back to a reggaeton, Ellie and I hugged, laughing hard. I was hot and soon I would start sweating.

"Let's go grab some water," she said.

I nodded, but as we turned to leave the dance floor, I halted.

Phillip stood a few feet away, his arms crossed, his head tilted sideways, his eyes narrowed, and a cocky half-smile on his lips. My heart skipped a few beats.

"Do you know him?" Ellie asked when I didn't follow her.

"That's Phillip."

"Oh my," she whispered before disappearing behind him and heading to our sofa.

I was having such a good time, I had forgotten I had invited him. Now, looking at him, dressed in fitted jeans and a blue shirt, his blond hair gelled back, I wondered how I could have forgotten him.

For a moment, I wondered what to do. Should I walk toward him, let him come to me, pretend I didn't see him? I felt like a teenager again, going out on her first date.

Finally, he strolled toward me and entered the dance floor, halting only a foot from me.

"Hi," I said, staring up at him. "How long have you been here?"

His half-smile never left his lips. "A while."

"Sorry, I didn't see you. I was dancing with Ellie."

"Don't apologize for that. Your dancing was ..." He didn't continue. He didn't need to. Whenever I danced, I felt sexy and powerful like I could do anything, be anyone, conquer the whole world, and have any man at my feet. And that was exactly what was happening here. Phillip's gaze fell to my neck, to the pendant resting against my skin. A slow grin spread across his lips. "You're wearing it."

I touched my fingertips to it. "It's beautiful."

His eyes returned to mine, the intensity in them spreading the warmth of my body to my cheeks. "I'm glad you finally agreed to go out with me."

"Me too," I said. I really was glad. Right now, after dancing and feeling warm and excited, I was holding back, trying not to kiss him. I took his hand, pulled him closer, and placed his hand around my waist. "Let's dance."

"Let's," he said, his tone husky, his eyes wide and attentive. "But I'll probably disappoint you. I'm not a great dancer."

"Then I'll lead."

I placed his other hand on my waist and stepped into the circle of his arms. It was good to feel his body against mine, his warmth, his hands on me, to smell his citrus-scented aftershave. Perhaps I had missed this part of hooking up more than I had realized.

He was stiff and didn't look like he knew what he was doing. But I led him. I moved slowly, our legs entwined, wiggling my hips from side to side, hoping his hands were enjoying the trip. He leaned toward me, his mouth on my ear, his breathing a little shallow. I bit my lip and felt myself becoming hotter.

Shit, I wanted to push myself into him. To feel his arms squeezing me. To feel his weight against my body. How could I feel this way when I barely knew him? Not that I knew the guys I had hooked up with before, but this time, it was happening faster. My feelings and my wants were coming too fast.

He pulled back and fixed his eyes on mine. His hand traveled up my back—I shivered—to my neck, to my cheek. His fingers brushed a strand of my hair aside, and then he cupped my face.

Okay, with those damn blue eyes shining with desire, who could resist?

I kissed him.

# 7

I pressed myself against him, tilted my head up, and found his lips already coming toward me. Phillip responded immediately, his mouth parting to welcome mine, his tongue brushing mine. His grip around me tightened and I wished I could melt into him.

Breathless, I pulled back.

"How about we get out of here?" he asked, low and hopeful. His eyes bore into mine, and there was no way I could deny him. Who was I kidding? I didn't want to deny him.

I nodded, and before I could say anything, his mouth was on mine again. This time, his lips moved slower but hungrier. Damn, we had to get out of here soon.

I pulled back again to restrain myself. "I should tell Ellie that I'm leaving."

"All right."

He gave me his hand, and I led us off the dance floor to the sofa where Raul, Rick, and Carlos danced and drank, Tonia sulked, and Ellie talked to a guy I didn't know.

My attention was momentarily caught by the guy with Ellie. His skin stood out, pale and, in the poor lighting of the place, his hair seemed a light brown, cut short. He was tall and not too broad for a guy. And Ellie was all over him without restraint. Even though they were only talking, the guy seemed to respond well to her, to have interest in each one of her movements.

Ellie saw us approaching, and her eyes found my hand in Phillip's. She winked at me, and I beckoned her to stand and to come talk to me.

Ellie said something to the guy, and when she started toward us, Phillip fished his cell phone from his pocket. It was ringing.

His brows knotted. "Work. I've gotta get this."

"Sure."

He gave me a little peck on the lips and ran toward the exit.

I stared after him, wondering why he would get a call from work on a Saturday night.

"So," Ellie said behind me. I turned my attention to her. "How is it going with your man?"

"It's ... going well, I think." I felt the heat in my cheeks again and changed the subject. "I see you have company, too. Who is he?"

She spied over her shoulder to where her guy was and smiled. "I just met him. His name is Rob." She was beaming. She peeked at him again, and this time he pointed to his empty whiskey glass, indicating he was going to find more. After nodding to him, she looked back to me. "Isn't he cute?"

"Yeah," I said. He was cute but not my type.

Glancing past me, she stretched to look at the front door. "And you didn't tell me Phillip was such a hunk."

"I told you he was cute."

"Cute? He's way more than cute."

"Sorry. Next time I'll make sure I mention everything, even his shoe size."

"That's good because..." She showed me her pinky. "You know what they say about a man's shoe size."

"Shit, that wasn't what I meant." My cheeks were now on fire.

She laughed. "I know, relax." Her gaze became sly. "But I saw you two dancing and kissing. I'll call and ask tomorrow."

"Ask what?"

She showed me her pinky again. "His shoe size."

I put my hands over my face and suppressed a chuckle. Damn, this girl would kill me.

"Yeah, well." I cleared my throat, trying to be serious. "I was going to tell you I was leaving with him, but he had to answer a call." I glanced toward the door. No sign of him. "Now I don't know anymore."

There it was. The trust issue again. How could I have let this happen? To give myself so easily to a guy I didn't know, and now he was gone. Another man would probably get to the bed part first, then vanish, but Phillip vanished after a couple of hot kisses. Why did I kiss him, damn it? Had I no self-respect? No self-control?

I had fought against going out with him. Then I lost control on the first date, but before he could get the goodies, he vanished. I truly couldn't trust men. I just couldn't.

"What's wrong?" Ellie asked.

"Nothing." I forced a smile, but I was sure she could see through it.

"No, there's something wrong. Come on." She pulled me to sit on the sofa beside Tonia. "Spill it."

"Nothing, really," I said. Ellie scowled at me. Perhaps I should tell her what was bothering me. Wasn't that part of being friends? "Phillip went to answer a call from work. He works in the pharmaceutical industry. Why the hell would he get a call from work on a Saturday night?"

"He's cheating on you," Tonia said, her eyes staring at the low table before us, like she had done all night.

"What? Cheating on me? This is our first date."

"Tonia, he's not cheating," Ellie said. She sounded like a mother teaching her toddler a lesson. "Not every man is unfaithful or a jerk."

However, I had to agree with Tonia. It was as if he didn't like kissing me, had gotten a call from another one of his hookups, and left me for her. Shit, I was so stupid.

I berated myself for being so naive. For one quick moment, I let my shield down and almost left with a guy who I knew nothing about. A stranger. It was for the best, I told myself. If I had slept with him and started to trust him, the hurt would be greater.

Interrupting my troubling thoughts, Rob came back with his drink refilled and Ellie introduced him to me. I scooted away, letting the couple get to know each other on the other corner of the sofa.

Swirls of color assaulted my mind. I closed my eyes and saw them. Colored streams. Green, blue, pink, yellow, and red. Too much red. Whirling in the dark before my eyelids. Tingles ran around my neck and a sensation like a knock on my mind's walls. I let them crumble and followed the colors. Warnings. Two places.

On the balcony, right above me. And at the entrance.

My eyes fluttered open, and I realized my hands were closed into tight fists. I let out a long breath and felt dizzy. Shit. This was not the time. I glanced at Ellie and Tonia at my side. They were engrossed in conversation. Before me, Raul kept drinking and dancing with his friends.

I tilted my head up. People leaned against the baluster of the balcony above us, looking down at the dance floor. Was I supposed to recognize anyone? I squinted and tried to see their faces.

Artan and some guys were leaned against the railing of the VIP area right above me.

My heart stopped and I swallowed hard. Shit.

So, could the warning at the entrance be worse? It felt odd. At the exact moment I stood up and glanced at the main door, Theron entered.

My knees became jelly, and I sank down beside Tonia, trying to hide my face behind my curls. What was up with that? I knew who Artan was, but not Theron. This was the second time my senses flared up around him.

How the hell had I stumbled upon them? We were in New Haven, three towns over from Broken Hill, and they happened to be in the same club as me on the same night? Apparently, my luck was on vacation.

Curiosity welled up in my chest, but I didn't dare peek at them. Artan and his gang were still leaning against the balcony, looking at the dance floor like they were searching for someone or something.

A cold shiver slid up my back.

Meanwhile, Theron and his friends wove through the crowd on the dance floor to the high tables' area. They found a vacant table close to the back wall. Two of them sat on the stools. Theron and another, the same guy who was with him at that garage, leaned against the wall. Theron crossed his arms over his chest, propped up a leg, rested his foot on the wall, and glanced directly to where Artan was.

My heart skipped a beat. I tilted my head up again and found Artan holding Theron's stare, sparks crackling from their intense expressions. They knew each other. Not only that, but it seemed like they hated each other. And I found I was curious as to why. However, what caught my attention was their stance and attire. It was similar, somehow. Both groups had brown hair—one a lighter shade, the other almost black—and tanned skin. Both groups wore fine shirts with at least two buttons undone and slacks or fitted dark jeans. Some had thin gold chains hanging from their necks, small golden hoops in their ears, thick cloth sashes around their waist. Their pose was powerful, dangerous, and defiant. They were proud and sure of themselves.

Like Romani. No, not Romani. Tziganes.

Suddenly, my curiosity was replaced by worry and wariness.

What the hell were they doing here?

Raul stepped into my line of sight and caught my attention. "Let's dance." He gestured to the dance floor to where Rick and Carlos headed.

I bit my lip. I wanted to dance. When didn't I want to dance? But now, I wasn't sure I should. Phillip had deserted me, and I felt like I needed to hide from Artan and Theron.

"Give me just a minute," I lied.

Raul seemed okay with my answer. He winked at me and joined his friends on the dance floor. Meanwhile, I tried to come up with a plan to get out of the club without anyone seeing me. I didn't want to go, but if I stayed, Artan was sure to see me, and I didn't want to have a conversation about tziganes and enclaves tonight.

My eyes, which seemed to have a life of their own, moved back to Artan then Theron. They weren't staring at each other anymore, but their poses indicated they were well aware of the other's presence.

A woman walked over to Theron's table. The four guys smiled at her and, one by one, embraced her. She turned around, her eyes going straight to Artan and his gang, flashing the same anger and danger. It was the same young woman from the garage. She was beautiful, with brown hair falling down around her shoulders to her waist, strong eyes, and a lean body. She wore a red, fringed blouse and black skinny pants covered her long legs. Elegance and poise filled her every move. I felt jealous. I was thin and lean, but not as tall and surely not as elegant. I could dance well, but I was sure my movements outside of the stage or dance floor were awkward and clumsy.

The girl turned to Theron and the other guys, a friendly conversation flowing among them. I lost track of time while I watched the perfect woman. Her laugh was mysterious, her nods perfect, her hair flip intriguing, her smile hypnotizing.

Finding my eyes, Raul beckoned me to join him, but most of my attention was on the mysterious woman.

As I watched them, she took two of the guys by the hand and pulled them to the dance floor, close to the sofa. I hid as well as I could behind Tonia so I could keep spying. Then the magic lifted. She danced well, but not that well. I wasn't sure, but I thought I danced better than she did. And that was what mattered to me. She could be as beautiful, elegant, and strong as Wonder Woman, but she wasn't a better dancer than I was.

Satisfaction filled my chest and I smiled—and didn't notice when Tonia leaned back on the sofa, not hiding me anymore.

One of the guys dancing with Wonder Woman spotted me. Shit, it was the guy who was with Theron and Wonder Woman at the garage. They froze. I froze.

I saw him mouthing, "Hey."

Wonder Woman stopped dancing and asked them something. They pointed to me and she turned. Her stare pierced me, almost hurting. One of them raised his hand and grabbed Theron's attention, who was still leaned against the wall. The guy pointed to me and Theron's eyes swept around, settling on me. He had recognized me.

So had Artan. I glanced up and saw he had noticed the commotion and had found me too.

My blood became cold in my veins, and for an instant, my mind didn't work.

They walked toward me. All of them.

# 8

I shot to my feet and marched to the exit. Tonia called to me, but I didn't waste time. I ran. For a quick second, I stopped, taking a deep breath of the cool air from the night. After being inside a crammed, hot club for so long, it felt reinvigorating and helped clear my head.

I searched the street outside the club. Where was Phillip? Was he really on a work call, or had he left?

Shit...

I could wait here and find out what they wanted, or I could go home. All I needed to do was find a taxi to take me home. I would never come to Muévete again.

I walked as fast as I could in my heels, ignoring the perplexed stares I received from people on the street.

Feeling like a criminal running for her life, I reached the corner and cursed. The side street was calm and dark, but I could see some cars and lights coming from the next one, on the right.

Glancing back, I saw both groups walking toward me, just now exiting the club. Shit.

I pulled off my heels, made a right around the corner, and ran toward the other street.

Twenty feet down the sidewalk, the pendant inside my bra warmed up against my skin and lights exploded in my mind. Momentarily dizzy, I tripped and would have fallen on the sidewalk. But a hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the buildings. A second hand clamped my mouth before I could scream. I was thrown against a door, under the large portico of a store. The doorknob stabbed me in the back. Pain rippled through my back and spread into my ribs. I groaned and jerked against the hands holding me.

The hands belonged to a man dressed in black with bald head, pale skin, and a black mask over his mouth and chin.

The blood drained from my face, from my core. I tried scrambling back and away, but two more masked men stood beside me and held my arms, immobilizing me. I screamed, but nothing came out. My whole body trembled in fear.

"Give her the elixir," the one on my right said, his voice a thin shrill.

"If I let go of her mouth, she will scream and alert the others," the one muffling my mouth said.

"Then knock her out and slip the elixir in her mouth," the first one said.

"She's small and thin," the third one said. "Tie her and gag her mouth. We'll carry her. No need to waste time with the elixir now."

"Okay," the one on the right said as he let go of me to grab a rope and a piece of cloth under his tunic. Quickly, the hand over my mouth was replaced by the cloth, tight and firm, hurting my face. My arms were pulled back and tied together around the wrists. They held my legs down, but I kicked and jerked. A fist connected with my cheek, and I slumped back as darkness played at the edges of my sight.

Someone threw me over his shoulder. I tried but failed to take everything in, to think over the dizziness, and come up with some way to escape, to call for help.

Carrying me, they stepped out of the portico and ran along the shadows of the buildings.

I heard distant shouts and my captors increased their speed. The shouts grew closer. I tried to look up, but received another punch to my face. My vision blackened and my head spun.

The shouts were close now. One of my captors was slammed into the pavement, then another. Someone attacked the man carrying me, and I fell off his shoulder onto the sidewalk, hitting my back first, head second. The air was stolen from my lungs, and pain exploded everywhere.

Strong arms cradled me, lifting me from the ground.

"I've got you," a voice said.

Darkness around the edge of my sight spread and overcame me.

I opened my eyes and the world spun. I closed them again. The sickness in the pit of my stomach surged up, but I held it back with a few deep breaths.

What had happened? Where was I?

Then it came rushing to me. The club, Phillip, Artan, Theron, Wonder Woman, the run, the masked men ...

Slowly, I peeked through my lashes. I was in my room. Relief washed over me. If I was home, I was safe.

Wait? This wasn't my home.

I sat up—pain coursed through me, making me hiss—and I looked around. It was my bedroom, but it wasn't. My old full-size bed, my old comforter, my old dresser, my old vanity, my old cushioned stool, my old armchair, my old curtains, but in a different room.

I was in my mother's house. In Broken Hill.

Shit.

With another deep breath, I smelled my mother's incense. Vanilla, sugar and honey. She remembered the ones I liked. I glanced around and found it sitting on my vanity, already halfway burned.

Pain assaulted me again. My back, my face, and the back of my head. Gently, I patted behind my head and found an enormous bump, then touched my cheek and felt a bruise where the man had punched me. Damn, I hoped it would go away soon. I didn't want to have a black welt when I went to my classes.

With cautious steps, I walked to the mirror behind the bedroom's door while I glanced out the window. It was still dark, but the sun was starting to give signs it was on the way.

I examined myself in the mirror. I was still wearing the dress from the club, but it was ripped along my thigh and dirty. My shoes and my purse were on the floor beside my bed.

I turned my attention to my wounds. The bruise was beginning to purple. Thank goodness I had no broken teeth or nose. I turned around to look at my back but couldn't see anything abnormal besides the pain.

Questions popped into my mind. How had I escaped those men? How was I at my mother's house?

Shit, had my mother seen me like this? With a dirty and ripped dress? Only one way to find out. I walked out of the room, and in two steps, halted before the staircase.

Voices came from downstairs.

"You raised your daughter without her knowing anything?" a man said in a rough, loud tone. "Are you ashamed of us?"

"Of course not," my mother said. She sounded so small, so fearful. "But the past is too painful."

"Do you have any idea what could have happened last night?" the man asked.

"Stop harassing her," a woman said. Her voice was powerful and authoritarian. "Even with her limitations, Risa did a fine job."

Risa? Who was Risa? My mother's name was Marisa ... could this woman be talking about my mother?

The man continued, "She should have brought the child to us when she realized she was one of us. We co—"

"Enough," the woman exclaimed. They became quiet. A few seconds dragged by, and I held my breath, wondering what they were doing.

The woman appeared before me at the base of the stairs. Her face was serious and severe, but she opened a gentle smile when her brown eyes rested on mine. The heavy makeup didn't conceal all the wrinkles that adorned her eyes and lips, and I thought she was older than she seemed. Her dark gray hair was neatly arranged in a long braid. She wore a long and flowing skirt, a thick golden necklace over her white blouse. Her arms and fingers had more bracelets and rings than I owned.

"Come," she said, beckoning me. I gulped and held my breath. "It's okay, dear." She beckoned again.

Slowly, I walked down the stairs and let her guide me to the living room. I halted in the doorway. It was odd seeing the furniture and decorations I knew from my childhood in a different house, one I didn't recognize. One I didn't help my mother move in to.

An older man in his fifties was seated on the couch, his eyes set on me, shining with superiority. He wore dark slacks, a classy shirt, and a thick belt.

My mother sat in the armchair across the room, her eyes fixed on the dusty carpet, avoiding me. The old lady rested her hand on the small of my back and pushed me into the room. After a few steps, I broke free of her and turned to the man.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Sit down, dear," the old lady said. "We have much to talk about."

"And who are you?"

"I'm Darcy," she said as if it should have made sense. She gestured to the man. "I'm Oscar's mother."

Oscar. The rom baro of my mother's former enclave.

"Hello, Mirella," he said, his words stinging like a bee.

I crossed my arms, suddenly a little embarrassed I was still dressed in my short, ripped dress and barefoot. "What are you doing here?"

Darcy sat down beside her son. "Well, dear, you were attacked by our enemies and saved by our warriors twice. As a tzigane and member of our enclave, we need to talk about—"

I lifted my hand. "Wait. I'm not a member of your enclave."

"Your mother was, and—"

"Exactly," I interrupted her again. "She _was_ a member of your enclave. You banished her, which means her children were also cast out."

"I..." Oscar started. I glared at him. "You're right. Your mother was banished, which means so were you, but usually tziganes who are banished keep a low profile and know how to hide from our enemies. In your case, that's not true."

"I'm very low profile."

Oscar nodded. "For the most part, it seems that way, but our enemies are on your tail now. They know there's a lone tzigane and they won't stop until they find you. You're creating a nuisance in our town, and that makes you our business."

Their town? My mother had said they lived out of town. I sighed.

"Dear," Darcy called. Fighting the desire to roll my eyes, I looked at her. Her words were sweet, but something in her eyes, a mysterious shine, made me wary. "Your mother told us you haven't used your powers yet, that you don't even know what they are."

I shifted my weight. "I'm... I'm not sure." I paused. "I can sense some things, but that's it."

"No other abilities?" Darcy asked, eyes narrowed.

"No." It felt odd to be talking about powers, about my powers. Despite my acute sixth sense, I had nothing really.

"That could cause trouble," Oscar said.

I didn't look at him.

Darcy continued, "If you're not properly trained to use them, your powers can flare up, causing problems."

"I only have my senses. I'm fine."

"Usually, tziganes have more than just a strong sixth sense." She smiled at me as if she could see through me. "You're a dance teacher, am I right? What if your powers flare up when you're teaching your class? You don't want to hurt the _gadjos_ around you, do you?"

"The gad—what?"

" _Gadjos_ ," my mother said. She looked at Darcy, then Oscar with an apologetic expression. "That's what we call non-tzigane people."

Oh my... this was getting to be too much.

"Yes, the _gadjos_." Darcy turned her sympathetic smile back to me. "You don't want to hurt your dancers, do you?"

I groaned. When she put it like that...

But it wasn't right. Nothing about this was right. They banished my mother, and then came after me—and they still ignored her the entire time they were talking to me, even though she sat right in front of them. And the way Darcy was looking at me? Sort of creepy. I was kind of wary of the old hag.

More importantly, I didn't have any special powers. I would know if I did.

"Nothing will happen," I said, my voice firm. I pointed to the door. "You can go now." They didn't move. "All right, then I'll go."

I raced upstairs, grabbed my purse, my shoes, and one of my old jackets, put it on over my torn clothes, and went back down. They were still seated in the same spots.

My mother stood. "Mirella, please stay. Have breakfast with us."

I swallowed hard. "Sorry, but I have plans already," I lied.

I walked out of my mother's house.

# 9

Two dark blue SUVs were parked in front of my mother's townhouse. Artan and two other guys, who had been with him at the club, leaned against the vehicles.

They straightened the moment I walked out of the house.

Sighing, I resumed my walk down my mother's driveway, avoiding their stares. My gaze swept over her flower beds. Of course, my mother had planted the golden shrubs here too.

"Where are they?" Artan asked.

"Inside," I muttered. "Probably making tea."

He stepped in my way, and I halted before I ran into his chest. "What do you mean?"

"They're still inside. Talking, I assume." I looked at him. God, the guy was tall. Well, with me being only five-four almost anyone was tall, but this guy had to be at least six-two, maybe six-three. "Excuse me." Artan gestured to the SUV. "I'm not going with you."

I walked around him and onto the sidewalk. It was impossible not to look around and take in the new place my mother lived in. A little subdivision of cute townhouses. With lush green lawns and well-manicured, colorful flower beds.

It seemed like a good neighborhood.

The entrance of the subdivision came into view, and I pulled out my phone from my purse. There were several missed calls from Ellie, dozens of texts from her and from Phillip.

Shit.

I would deal with that later.

I opened the Uber app and started making my request.

A blue SUV pulled over beside me.

I kept walking, pretending I didn't see it as it followed me and the passenger window rolled down.

"Get in," Artan said.

"I'm not going to your enclave," I muttered, looking ahead.

"I know." He kept the SUV rolling slowly to accompany me. "If you want to go home, then I'll take you home."

I halted on the sidewalk and looked at him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "If you were my sister, I would hope a friend would take her home."

I frowned. "You're not my friend."

"No, I'm not, but so far I've saved your life twice. Why would I have done that if I wanted to harm you?"

Well... that was true.

It was either get a ride from Artan, or call Uber. Or walk until I found the nearest bus stop or taxi spot, and I didn't know this neighborhood that well.

I sighed before getting into the SUV.

"Thanks," I muttered, putting on the seat belt.

"No problem." He sped up and took us out of the subdivision.

For the first five minutes, Artan drove quietly, eyes on the road, while I glanced out the window. I didn't even feel like checking Ellie's and Phillip's texts. Not yet.

"I bet you still have lots of questions."

I snapped my head toward him. "And would you answer them?"

"If I can, yes."

I narrowed my eyes at him. I heard them say he was a warrior. He looked the part. Tall and strong, with a chiseled jaw and proud chin, attentive eyes. And he was good looking too. I wondered if he broke many hearts.

I shook my head, embarrassed by the direction of my thoughts, and focused on his offer.

What game was he playing? It didn't matter; my curiosity got the best of me.

"My mother mentioned tziganes have enemies, and Darcy and Oscar said something about your enemies. Who are they?"

One of his brows perked up. " _Our_ enemies," he corrected me. "Didn't your mother tell you all about us?"

"She told me a little." I sank in the seat. "Let's just say every time my mother and I start a conversation, it doesn't end well."

He glanced at me, his eyes intent as if he was trying to read me. "I thought she would be your best friend."

"If only," I mumbled. "Haven't you noticed we don't live together?"

"But she's always at your place."

"Because she imposes herself." I groaned on the inside. "So, who are they?"

"We call them alchemists," Artan said after a few silent minutes. "They learned how to extract our powers and use them for their own purpose. Our powers flow through our blood, so they extract every drop. They also learned that certain body parts have unique properties, and they can be used as ingredients in their experiments and elixirs."

My stomach knotted and a lump formed in my throat. "You're saying they capture tziganes and kill them?" He nodded. "That's terrible." I shuddered. "This may sound a little dumb, but if they're so evil, why don't they just raid your enclave and capture all of you? Or are their numbers too small?"

"On the contrary, their numbers are far larger than ours. But, when we're together and when we use certain resources, our powers are strong, and we can keep them away from our enclave. It's like there is an invisible wall around our home."

Artan turned the SUV into my neighborhood. We were close to my place now.

A knot formed between my brows. "What about the other group at the club. Theron and his friends. What about them?"

Artan turned wide eyes at me. "How do you know Theron?"

"I sort of bumped into him a few days ago."

"And?"

"That was it. I bumped into him, apologized, my friend tried to charm him, and he told me his name. Then my friend and I left." Artan's hands tightened around the wheel. "Are they tzigane too?"

His jaw tensed and his shoulders squared up. "They belong to the neighboring enclave."

"My mother told me about two enclaves close by. But I thought you would be friends with each other. Allies."

Artan scowled. "Yeah, right." He shook his head and took a deep breath as if thinking about what he could tell me. "My enclave is called Lovell and theirs is Bellville, after our ancestors. Bellville is not like us. We are at war with the alchemists and that's our priority, but we also are at war with Bellville. It's a passive war, but nevertheless, we can't stand each other." Again, his eyes found mine, dangerous and intent. "If they ever try to get to you, run away. I mean it."

My mind had a hard time wrapping around the idea that two close enclaves were enemies. Unbelievable.

"So," I started, facing him again. "I'll never be safe? I'll forever be pursued by the alchemists? How did they even find me, do you know?"

"They have spells to scry for tziganes. In your case, you were easy prey since you still don't know how to shut down your powers to hide them, and because you were alone and unprotected. That's why we live together. So we can protect each other."

I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. Please, this was _not_ happening. I was _not_ a tzigane, whose blood and heart oozed with power. Damn it, tziganes did _not_ exist.

Opening my eyes, I peeked at Artan. He drove the car, watching the road. Perfectly normal. And yet, he was a tzigane. A menacing looking one. Not that I had seen many tzigane.

I analyzed my hands, looking for something different on them, like a tell-tale sign that I was a tzigane. There was nothing to see. But, when I lowered my hands, my eyes fell on Artan and his foreboding figure. I bet his senses were attuned to everything around us, not just the road.

My breath caught. He was something. It was difficult to grasp for words. The expression on his face never fell far from brave and intimidating, his eyes gleamed with danger, his presence was strong, and his movements astute.

I licked my lips and half-a-second later, gasped. Shit, I had been staring at Artan. At least, he wasn't paying attention—I hoped.

Artan stiffened and frowned, glancing around. "What? Did you feel something?"

He unlocked the walls around him, and I felt when he sent his senses to scout for danger. His senses brushed up against me, like velvet on steel, like a caress on a thorny rose. I shivered and gasped again.

"What?" He faced me, his hazel eyes shining with worry.

"I felt you," I whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Just now, I felt your senses going out, like a soft breeze." The crease on his brow deepened. "Isn't that a normal thing?"

"I don't feel when another tzigane does that, if that's what you're asking." He lifted his fingers and a gentle breeze revolved around me, filling the car. I gasped again. "Air is my power."

"Say what?" I stared at him. "You can make wind?"

One corner of his lips tugged up. "Among other things." Then he pressed his lips tight and glanced around again. "What was it that startled you?"

"Nothing. Just ... my mind." I averted my eyes from his gaze and reclined in the seat, a pout on my lips.

When he focused on the road again, I tried something new, something I had never done before. I tried reaching for his senses. I had felt things before, I had sensed them and found them, but I had never intentionally reached for someone. I wanted to see what was under that concrete wall of his, if he was as closed as his stance. My senses slipped out of my mind and floated toward him. And bumped into a wall. I peeked at him, but he didn't seem aware of it. Pushing harder, I tried again. Nothing. Not one tenth of an inch. His mind was a closed box. Which only made me more curious about him.

Artan turned the last corner and entered the parking lot of my building.

"Home, sweet home," I whispered to myself.

He stopped the SUV in front of my building. "There you are."

I offered him a smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

I tilted my head. "You aren't going to say anything?"

"Like?"

"Try to convince me to listen to Darcy and Oscar and go to your enclave?"

He shook his head once. "I think you're old enough to know what's best for you."

Wow, I didn't know if he was serious and I should take that as a compliment, or if he was teasing me and rubbing it in my face that I was being childish and making the wrong choices.

Either way, I wouldn't change my mind now. I was tired and hurt, and I desperately needed a shower and my bed.

I hopped out of the SUV and ran up the front steps to the door. I unlocked it and glanced back. Artan was still parked in place, waiting for me to get in. I nodded at him, then entered my building and closed the door. I listened as he sped away.

A long breath escaped me, and I felt like I could finally breathe again.

I climbed the steps when someone barreled into me and almost made me fall.

The guy in the dark hood I had seen around clasped his hands around my shoulders. "I need your help," he said, his voice a thin shrill. With his hood pulled low, I couldn't see much other than his pasty, pale chin.

Shuddering, I jerked away. "I don't know you," I said, sidestepping him. "Excuse me."

My heart hammering against my ribs, I raced up the stairs and rushed into my apartment. I locked the door, and just to make myself feel better, I wedged a wooden chair under the knob.

Then I stared at the door, sure the guy would come after me and burst into my apartment.

Thankfully, the hooded guy hadn't burst into my apartment. But since the last attack from the alchemists, I confess I hadn't slept well. I kept the chair under the doorknob all the time now, and a small kitchen knife on the nightstand when I went to bed.

I tried not to analyze my actions too much; otherwise, I would think I was going crazy. Or maybe I was already crazy. Ironic, since I had called my mother crazy my entire life, and now I knew she wasn't entirely insane.

Sunday night, after I relaxed, I went through Ellie's and Phillip's texts. I apologized to Ellie for not responding and let her know I was okay. As for Phillip... his texts started with "where are you?" then shifted to "did you leave?" and went up to "I'm worried. Talk to me."

He left me at the club, but now he wanted to talk? Perhaps it was childish, but I didn't reply to him.

On Monday, I met Ellie for lunch on campus. She grilled me about Phillip, of course, and when I told her I hadn't left with him, she didn't believe me.

On Tuesday, she had jazz class in the evening, so I was certain to see her. However, Annie hadn't come to my class, which rubbed me wrong. Was Phillip so disgusted with me that he made his daughter quit dancing?

I shook my head, sure I was exaggerating.

After classes were done, I changed in the dressing room, and humming a popular reggaeton, I stormed out of the dance school. So focused on not thinking about all the odd things around me, I closed the front door behind me and bumped into someone.

I opened my mouth to yell at whoever it was but stopped when I looked up and found gentle blue eyes looking for mine.

"Hey there," Phillip said, holding my arms to steady me. My heart squeezed a little. His gaze moved to my cheek and his brow creased. "What happened?" His fingers brushed the bruise on my cheek, now a faint yellow, but still swollen and visible.

"Nothing." I stepped back and out of his hold. He had left me at the club and had not called me afterward. What did he expect? A warm welcome? "Why didn't Annie come to class?"

"She has a cold," he said, his tone low. "My mother is taking care of her."

Poor thing. "Tell her I sent her a hug."

"Will do." He watched me while I shifted my weight. His eyes fell to my neck, where the necklace still was. To be honest, I had forgotten to take it off. His gaze returned to mine. "Can we go for a walk?"

"I need to go home," I said, avoiding his intense stare.

"It'll be quick. Please," he pleaded, his eyes matching his tone.

My heart skipped a beat. I nodded and let him show me the way.

For a few minutes, we walked side by side in silence, just stealing a few sidelong glances.

I was thinking about giving up and rushing home when he started. "So, I went back inside the club and your friend told me you had left in a hurry, without saying goodbye to her. She thought you had gone outside to meet me, but I didn't see you there."

Why hadn't Ellie told me that? Perhaps he talked to Tonia?

I bit my lip. What could I say? That I was chased out of the club and ran smack into some masked men who tried to kidnap me? Yeah, didn't think so.

"I wasn't feeling well," I lied, glad my voice sounded normal and level. "I went home."

Phillip raised his brows at me. "And this?" his fingers grazed against the bruise on my cheek.

"I-I hurt myself at home. Stupid really." I smiled at him, hoping it was convincing enough.

He halted before me, our bodies close together. I held my breath, my heart thumping in my chest.

"I understand you don't want to tell me. I do. We barely know each other, right?" Phillip held my arms and pulled me closer. His citrus scent enveloped me and I inhaled deeply, savoring it. "But I want to change that. I want to get to know you."

Damn. My heart was about to leave through my mouth. I did want to kiss him again and probably continue whatever we were about to do that night, but I didn't trust him. I didn't trust him much before he left me alone in the club, and now it was worse.

I took a step back, but he didn't let go of my arms. "You left the club."

"It was a work call, I told you. I was outside, on the phone."

"And you expect me to believe that? A call from work on a Saturday night?"

He laughed, sounding amused. "And Sunday morning and Sunday night. My boss is quite the workaholic, and he never says no to a client, old or new. Because of that, I have to work my ass off. I've been working with him for three years now, and I haven't had a single day off yet."

I cocked my head, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. Then I had a better idea.

I placed my hands over his extended arms and closed my eyes. I willed the walls around my mind to yield and my senses rushed out around us. I focused on Phillip and his words, if whatever he was saying was the truth, if he really was that interested in me and nobody else.

The colored beams swirled around him, closing in on him, on his heart. The colors compressed until they disappeared inside of his body. Then a blinding white light exploded from within, and I gasped, its force sweeping over me.

Phillip was telling me the truth. He had answered a work call that night and he did work like crazy. He also enjoyed it. And he liked me, more than he expected or wanted in so little time. In his mind, I was stunning and incredibly sexy.

Holy crap, how had I been able to see all that?

I opened my eyes and smiled at him.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?" he asked, sounding every bit as curious as I knew he was.

I stepped closer to him and tilted my head toward his. "I believe you."

His lips curled into a satisfied smile before meeting mine and kissing me.

I still couldn't believe I believed him, but it was true. Hmm, this sensing thing could be useful in overcoming my trust problems.

# 10

"Hey," Ellie whispered.

I looked up from my books to her across the table. "What?" I said in a low voice.

She tipped her chin to the table beside ours. Four guys with the school's team jersey spread their books and laptops across the table.

Smiling, I shook my head.

When Ellie invited me to meet her in the school library after classes Wednesday evening, because she had a big test coming up and I had a project I had to work on, I assumed we would be working. Of course, my dear Ellie's boy radar was always on, and she noticed the moment some cute guys walked into the library. And now her notebook lay ignored in front of her.

While she stared at them, I stared at her.

Being here with her felt so natural. It was as if she was meant to be my friend. And that meant I was selfish. Selfish because I shouldn't trust others, and because by hanging out with me, her life was at risk.

A shudder rolled down my spine, and the memory of that night in the parking garage invaded my mind. She already had been in danger because of me.

Shit.

She was a great person, and so far a great friend. I couldn't do this to her. I had to walk away. I had to stay away. My mother's methods might not have been the best, but she had ensured I had no friends growing up, because she was protecting them. And the one time I couldn't resist, the one time I lied to her about it, the one time I sneaked around to meet with my best friend... alchemists murdered her and her entire family.

It was my fault, and now I was bringing the murderers to Ellie's doorstep.

I sucked in a sharp breath and closed my book.

Ellie pressed her toes into my shin. I looked up at her. With a big smile, she waved at one of the guys. He waved back. Then she faced me, wiggling her eyebrows.

"They're so hot," she mouthed.

I glanced at them. Sure enough, they were looking at us. Two of them waved at me. I grimaced and nodded, then I picked up another book and lowered my head again.

They were handsome, and on another occasion, I might have considered letting them come to our table and talk, but I couldn't now. I had something going on with Phillip, and I was happy with that so far.

"I know what's going through that head," Ellie said, her voice low so not to disturb the others in the library. "You're thinking of Phillip."

Heat spread through my cheeks. "Is it that obvious?"

She smiled. "It's what I would be doing if I had a boyfriend that hot."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Not yet." She whirled her pen in her fingers. "What about Annie?"

"What about her?"

"Does she know about you two?"

I frowned. "Hmm, I don't think so. I hope not, to be honest."

"Why?"

"Because... whatever Phillip and I have is still new; anything could happen. Her mother already left, and I don't want her to experience something similar again, should our relationship not work out. We should wait until it's something more before we tell her."

"That's wise."

I scoffed. "Yeah, sometimes I surprise myself too."

She chuckled. A moment later, she started scribbling in her notebook again. Then she stopped and looked at me again. "What about your mom?"

"What do you mean?"

"What does your mother think about you dating a guy with a daughter?"

I sat straighter, feeling like I was under watchful eyes—not Ellie's. My mother's. "It's none of her business."

Ellie shrugged before returning to her notes.

I meant it, though. My mother had no business in my life. I was allowing her to come over and pretend she was a doting mother for her sake, so she could sleep at night, thinking she was taking care of her daughter. But when it came to my life, she had no authority. Her opinions didn't matter.

My mood went sour and more worrying thoughts filled my mind. My mother and her lies, the alchemists, the enclaves Lovell and Bellville... would my life ever be normal? College, the dance studio, Ellie and Phillip were the only normal things in my life, and even then, I felt like a rain cloud hovered over all of them, ready to burst open.

I glanced at my phone. It was already ten. The library was closing soon.

"I think I'm done," I told Ellie.

"Oh, okay. Then I'm going too."

We picked up all the books, notebooks, pens, and pencils we had spread over the table, shoved everything inside our totes, and after Ellie waved at the guys at the other table once more, we walked out of the library.

"Thanks for the company," I said, and I meant it. After avoiding having friends for so long, I felt complete and sometimes overwhelmed with her and Phillip in my life. And when Tonia or Raul came into the game, I felt it even more.

She looked at me as if I'd had too many drinks. "What is that about?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

"Are you taking the bus home?"

"Yes." Usually, I walked the few blocks to my building, but this late at night, I would take the bus.

"Want me to go to the bus stop with you?"

"Nah." I gestured around the campus's pathways. "There are lots of students out. I'll be fine."

"Okay. See you tomorrow, then."

"Good night."

She waved her fingers at me. "Night."

Ellie made a sharp turn to the right, in the direction of her dorm, and I walked toward the edge of campus where the bus stop was.

The bus ride to my building was uneventful. However, when I got there, I rushed inside, afraid of meeting the hooded guy again. Once inside my apartment, I locked the door and shoved the chair under the knob. It seemed I would do that for the rest of my life; it didn't matter where I lived.

I threw my tote on my coffee table, knelt in front of it, and started organizing it for tomorrow's classes. I placed all my books in a stack in the corner of the table and counted. One, two, three, four...

One was missing. My biology book. I didn't even remember taking it out of my tote in the first place, but Ellie and I had many things spread over the library table, so it was possible.

The air fled my lungs.

Holy shit, Ellie had my book.

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening again. I checked my tote and looked through all my books and notebooks. I raced to my desk in my bedroom and looked there too, even though I knew it was a waste of time, because I'd had my biology book with me earlier.

A chill coursed through my body.

Oh, God.

I ran back into the living room and grabbed my phone from the coffee table. I dialed her number, and with the phone pressed to my ear, I grabbed my keys and hurried out of my apartment. Who cared if the hoodie guy was still lingering somewhere outside the building? My friend could be in danger, and I was the only one who knew that.

The phone rang and rang, and she didn't pick it up.

My heart thundered in my chest. I would never forgive myself if something happened to Ellie. Never.

I pushed the building's front door open and stepped out just as a figure surged from the shadows.

"Mirella," Theron breathed.

In his arms, Ellie whimpered.

My stomach dropped. "What happened?"

Theron looked side to side, as if making sure nobody could hear him before he said, "Alchemists."

My knees wobbled. "Is she hurt?"

"I don't think so." He halted in front of me. "They grabbed her, may have pushed her too hard, but no scratches or cuts. But she's scared out of her mind."

I looked at my friend cowering in Theron's strong arms. Her face was pale, her eyes gaunt, and her hands, cradled in her chest, trembled. Then I shifted my eyes to Theron. Could I trust him? Could I let him in?

In that moment, there was no question.

I stepped aside.

In my apartment, he placed Ellie on my couch, and she recoiled, hugging a pillow and hiding her face under it.

Beckoning Theron to follow me, I went to the kitchen.

"What happened?" I asked him, careful so Ellie didn't hear me.

"Alchemists followed her." He glanced to the living room. "But she isn't a tzigane, is she?"

"No, she isn't." It was because of my book. I was sure if I opened her bag, which Theron had left beside the couch, I would find my book. "And what about you? You just happened to be there?"

He fixed his hazel eyes on mine. "I was curious about you."

"So..." I gasped. "You've been following me?"

"No..." It sounded like a lie. "I sometimes check on you."

"What does that mean?"

He cleared his throat. "I saw Artan saving you from those alchemists outside the club. Then, after a little research, I learned that wasn't the first attack." He paused. "I was curious about you."

With automatic movements, I placed the kettle on the range and reached for a mug inside the cabinet. "And that gives you the right to follow me?"

He groaned. "I didn't follow you. I just checked on you once or twice a day since then."

I grabbed the shoe-tea-box, looking for the chamomile pack. "Artan said you're bad news."

One side of his lips curled up. "As they are bad news to us. Don't believe everything they say."

"And I should believe you?"

"Hell no."

I cocked my eyebrows at him. "That's not reassuring. I might ask you to leave."

He raised both hands in peace. "Look, I'm just saying you shouldn't believe me because I'm a stranger. I get it. You're new to this entire tzigane thing, but you should know everything about everyone because you chose Lovell over us."

"They are my mother's enclave."

His grin faded. "They _were_ your mother's enclave."

The kettle screamed. I went to it and poured hot water inside the mug. "How much do you know?"

"A lot."

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. I'm not choosing an enclave."

"What do you mean?"

I didn't answer him. Instead, I took the tea and brought it to Ellie.

"Here," I said, kneeling beside her. "I made you some tea. It'll help you calm down."

She peeked at me over the pillow. "Why am I here? Shouldn't I go to the police? I was just attacked by a bunch of creeps!" She shook harder.

I placed the mug on the coffee table and clasped her hands in mine, trying to steady them. "About that... we need to talk."

"What are you doing?" Theron asked.

I ignored him, my eyes fixed on Ellie's frightened face. "They were after me," I confessed. "The thing is... I'm not normal."

Her brows furrowed. "W-what?"

"When you look at me, what do you see?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like my clothes, my style, my hair, my skin..."

"That you like bohemian style. That or you're a Romani girl."

"Well, I'm more than a Romani."

"Mirella, no," Theron warned, his voice a low hiss.

"I'm a tzigane," I confessed. "We're a special kind of Romani who have magic."

She gaped at me. "W-what?"

"Tziganes have enemies. Those men who attacked you are called alchemists. They are our enemies."

She glanced from me to Theron, back to me. "You're not making any sense."

I let go of her hands and opened her book bag. There it was. I pulled out my biology book. "They were after me. They followed you because of this."

Her face paled some more. "That night in the parking garage, when we swapped sweatshirts..."

I nodded. "I was able to get you out of there before they showed up."

"Oh my God." Her trembling started over, stronger this time. "You're crazy." She stood, putting some distance between us. "You're insane."

I stood. "Ellie..."

She showed me a finger. "Don't come near me. You... you're a freak."

A lump pressed in my throat. "Please don't say that."

"I..." She ran her quivering hands over her hair. "I need to get away from here."

"No, don't go yet. Talk to me. Let me explain."

She whisked her bag from the floor. "I need to go home."

"Ellie, please..."

Shaking her head, she raced out of my apartment.

I started after her, but a hand closed around my arm, holding me back.

"She needs time to process what you told her."

"But I barely told her anything. I didn't explain anything to her."

"And yet it was already more than she could handle."

I glanced at the door, tears blurring my sight. "She's scared and she was just attacked. I should go with her, make sure she gets to her dorm safely."

Theron stepped in my way. "I'll do it. I'll follow her, make sure she's fine." He swiped a pen and paper from the coffee table and scribbled something. "Here, my phone number. Send me a text or call me so I have your number. I'll call you back once she's in her dorm, safe and sound."

"T-thanks," I said, my voice breaking.

After a curt nod, Theron marched out of my apartment.

And I gave in to my weak legs and fell on the floor, crying.

# 11

I shouldn't have been surprised when Ellie didn't show up for the flamenco class the next day, but I was. I had texted her several times during the day, asking her how she was, begging her to talk to me and let me explain, tell her more about it all so she could make sense of it, but she never answered me.

The rest of my life wasn't going well either.

My mother kept popping up whenever she wanted, trying to be a part of my life. Like a statue, because she still barely said a word to me. Not even a "how was your day?" or a "aren't your midterms coming up?" Nothing.

Then there was Artan, who showed up once with orders to take me to Lovell.

"I have classes all day," I told him, glad it wasn't a lie. I wasn't in the mood to face a bunch of happy Romani people, and I wasn't about to miss my classes.

Theron also showed up, trying to convince me to go to Bellville with him.

"It's not as bad as Lovell makes it sound, you know," he said with his lopsided grin.

When would these people realize I didn't want any part in any of it? If I could, I would scrub the tzigane off me so the alchemists would leave me alone. I wanted to live a normal life.

The last straw was Phillip.

Since we made up on Tuesday, we hadn't seen each other, except when he dropped off or picked up Annie from her dance classes. We had talked on the phone a little and texted, but nothing else. And, when the weekend approached and I thought I would finally be able to spend some time with him, he called me.

"I have to go out of town this weekend," he said. "Meet some clients. I'm sorry."

It was fine. I just had to look forward to a weekend alone with my mother pretending to take care of me. I would have to come up with something to do, preferably out of the apartment.

After my classes on Saturday, I danced by myself for over an hour. I loved it and wanted to continue, but I felt off. So, I changed from my dance clothes to jeans, a white blouse, a long, colorful, knit jacket, and boots, and walked home.

An open-top, customized, red Jeep with huge tires was parked in front of my building. Hair tied in a low ponytail and his earrings shining bright, Theron leaned back in the driver's seat, his arm crossed, his head tilted to the sky.

He saw me approaching and pulled his sunglasses off. "There you are."

I walked to the building's front door. "I already told you, I'm not going to Bellville."

He hopped out of the Jeep. Like most tziganes I had seen so far, he wore boots, dark jeans, a loose shirt with the top three buttons undone, and a thick sash-like leather belt. The belt knotted on the right side of his hip with fringe coming down to the middle of his thigh.

"I'm not taking a no this time."

I sighed and turned my back to the door, my hands on my waist. "Why? Why is it so important that I go to these enclaves? Why can't I be a lonely tzigane lost in the world?"

He tilted his head, his long hair brushing against his shoulders. "Do you really want to be lonely?"

It was as if he had twisted a knife in my chest. How... how did he know that was my biggest fear? I had so much trouble trusting people, I had so much trouble letting them in, and yet my biggest fear was being alone. Even when I was with my mother, I was alone.

For a moment, I thought I had overcome that fear with Ellie and Phillip, but now that Ellie hated me and wanted to stay away from me, and with Phillip out of town, that feeling returned.

I knew Ellie should stay away from me. It was for the best. But just because I knew that, it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"That's none of your business," I barked, on the defensive.

"See, that's the thing about tziganes. We don't know how to be alone. We want to be friends with everyone. We want to be a part of a big family, of a big community. We were not made for loneliness." He extended his hand to me. "Come and I'll show you."

I glanced at his hand, considering if I should take it. What if it bit me? "I'm not sure I should trust you."

He placed his fist over his heart. "I give you my word that I won't harm you. No one at Bellville will harm you. While you're with me, I'll protect you and make sure you're all right." Then he offered me his hand again. "Honor is a big thing for tziganes, you know."

I glanced from his hand to my building behind us. It was that or spend the evening inside my tiny apartment with my mother.

"Do you promise to bring me back home the moment I say so?"

He bowed his head. "I promise."

I slid my hand into his. As if I weighed no more than a feather, Theron picked me up and placed me in the passenger seat of his Jeep. Then he ran around, jumped over the door, and started the engine.

"Hang on," he warned, a wicked grin on his rough face.

The Jeep jerked to life and I did hang on. Even with my seat belt, I felt like I was going to be thrown out, especially since the driver seemed to have fun racing through the streets.

For almost forty minutes, Theron drove us northeast, past Broken Hill, down the interstate, then onto a smaller road, and later onto a narrow street that seemed composed of small stones, flanked by curved trees covering the sky.

Theron's enclave lived on a ranch. Before us sat a three-story house, half covered by ivy, half painted in warm colors. Large, round windows and glass doors led to porches and balconies surrounding the elegant house.

He parked the car before the detached five-car garage. "Home, sweet home," he said, his eyes on the front door as it opened and a woman walked out onto the front porch. A smile took over his lips. "That's Sheila. My _puri daj_."

"Your what?"

" _Puri daj_. My grandmother."

As we walked to her, I saw pride reflected on the woman's face. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened when she smiled at her grandson. Her long gray hair was tied in a braid, and she wore thick golden hoops in her ears and a long multi-shade green skirt.

After Theron introduced me to her, Sheila walked with me through the house, pointing out which room was what, past the kitchen, which smelled wonderfully of recently baked cinnamon something, and onto the back porch.

An endless lush green garden extended past the house. A couple of patio sets, with chairs and tables and sunshades, spread across the lawn, and a few bushes and flowers enclosed each area. To the left, I could see a barn, a horse stable, and a pond complete with fountain and surrounding benches. To the right, another smaller barn-like building.

And many people.

The ones that had noticed our presence stopped whatever they were doing and approached us.

As they approached, I recognized two faces—Wonder Woman and the guy who had been with Theron outside the garage, across from the pizza place. Wonder Woman's name was Cora, and the guy was Ramon, Theron's brother.

Then I met Dolan (Theron's father), Jaime (Theron's cousin), and Neil (Jaime's father and Dolan's brother). There were also the ones I remembered from the club: Shay, Nico, and Rye, the guy who had been dancing with Cora and Ramon. They told me the kids were watching a movie in the barn-like building to the right, and there were others out and about, though their enclave wasn't large.

Seemingly happy with a full house, Sheila set up one of the larger patio tables with a colorful tablecloth and lots of food.

"You're all family?" I asked once we were seated around the table and stuffing our plates. Damn, everything smelled so good.

"In a sense, yes," Neil piped in. He was the rom baro of their enclave. His long black hair was tied in a ponytail low on his neck, and he wore an orange shirt and black slacks. A sword hung from his brown sash. "Since our separation from Lovell, we found that many other tziganes end up alone here and there. So we find them and give them a home."

"We became family," Sheila added, showing me a sweet smile.

But something tugged at my mind. "Wait..." I frowned. "Separation from Lovell?"

"She doesn't know much about us," Theron said. "About Bellville and Lovell and tziganes in general."

"Oh," Neil said. "I thought you knew. Yes, we were once one big enclave."

I found myself consumed by curiosity. "So, was the separation recent?" I tried not showing interest in the event itself. I didn't want to appear too nosy.

Ramon let out a hollow laugh as Sheila continued, "No, dear. It happened over two hundred years ago."

"And you haven't resolved it yet?"

All eyes avoided mine.

Finally, Dolan gave in. "Nobody tries to resolve it," he explained, his tone absolute. "And, if you ask me, I don't think it'll ever be solved."

That was odd. I had been told tziganes should stay together. That was the best way to defend against the alchemists.

"Have you been to Lovell yet?" Ramon asked. His stance and his eyes radiated hostility and suspicion. I didn't feel comfortable with his gaze on me.

"Nope," I confessed. "They've been trying to get me to go though."

He scowled. "Good. Don't give in to them. Bunch of pompous bastards."

"Ramon!" Sheila chided. "We don't like them, but you know what? I don't think we should be talking about them at all."

The subject changed to daily tasks on the ranch, initiated by Jaime and Ramon. Neil and Shay butted in here and there. Cora remained seated at the head of the table, quiet and observant. At some point during the conversation, Dolan got up and disappeared inside the big house, and Theron scooted closer.

For some reason, I wanted to ask him about Cora. Instead, another woman snatched my attention. One seated alone on a distant patio set. "What's up with her?" I pointed my chin past Theron, who followed my gaze.

"That's Maire. She joined us a few years ago after being attacked by alchemists." His eyes became sad, almost hurt. "They took her daughter."

All of a sudden, my heart weighed more than a concrete ball. "Shit, that's horrible."

"It is. Since then, Maire stays like that, staring at nothing, all day long." Theron leaned in closer and whispered, "Sometimes I can hear her crying at night." He poured more juice in his glass and his tone switched back to normal. "We've been trying to track her daughter down, but it's hard."

"We?"

"Ramon, Shay, Jaime, Rye, Cora, and me," he answered, pointing at the ones that had been at the club with him that night. I could feel a connection between them. "They were from Ohio before, and the girl was only a toddler. Besides, it's been years. The alchemists are probably done with her."

"Don't say that," Sheila hissed as she walked behind us, reaching for a basketful of fresh baked bread.

"But it's true, _puri daj_ ," Ramon said. "We all know once an alchemist gets his hands on a tzigane, it's only a matter of hours until th—"

"Let's pray we're wrong," she said, interrupting him.

Distracting us, a girl stepped out onto the porch and Jaime shot up and ran to her.

"Bryna, his wife," Theron explained.

My mind went blank. What? She looked twenty, like me, and she was married? Jaime also looked young, about twenty-two. And they were married? Already?

"She's pregnant," Theron added.

"Oh, that's why then. Though I don't think it should happen like that."

"Why what?" Cora asked, leaning across the table.

Startled and suspicious, my tone faltered. "That they married so young."

Theron gave me a hard look. "They married almost two years ago, when Bryna turned twenty-one. She got pregnant much later."

Wow, she was twenty-three? She looked a lot younger. "Christ, then they were probably in love."

"No, Mirella," Cora said. "In our culture, people marry young. Normally, girls are twenty-one. And the couples are promised to each other when they are children."

"It used to be even earlier," Ramon added. "Girls used to be eighteen when they got married."

"Fifteen during my grandparents time," Sheila said.

"Say what?" I yelped, receiving the attention of everyone around the table. My cheeks became hot. "Sorry," I mumbled.

When the conversation resumed, Cora continued. "I understand it may seem weird to you."

"Too weird," I whispered. Then a thought filled my mind. "How about you two? I'm sure you're both over twenty-one."

Theron stared at the ground before saying, "Well, being from a non-traditional enclave, it's hard to find fiancées. My fiancée died two years ago during an alchemist attack. She was nineteen."

Cora whispered, "They would have gotten married next month."

My gaze shifted to Theron, who was still staring at his feet, his expression serious, different from what I had seen so far. "I'm sorry."

He nodded.

After a minute in silence, I turned to Cora and asked in a low voice, "And you? Please don't tell me yours died too."

Cora's gaze went across the table, but she quickly looked down at her hands. "No, I'm single."

I had followed her glance—to Rye, who now also looked out, to the side, as if the garden in the distance was more important than the people around the table.

"Mine died," Nico announced, his voice solemn, sad.

My heart squeezed. "No... I'm so sorry."

"Cora, Rye, and I came from the same enclave. It was ambushed and attacked by alchemists. Everyone died but the three of us."

My heart felt heavy for them. "I'm so sorry," I repeated, this time to all of them.

Cora shrugged. "That was two years ago. We're okay now."

Silence filled the table for a few minutes.

"Anyway," Theron said, looking at me. "As we were saying, most of us get married early." He pointed to Shay. "He's engaged. He should get married in eight months. And my brother wants to be single forever."

"Really?" I looked at Ramon. "Why?"

Ramon just grunted.

The subject changed, and I paid attention to them, trying to absorb it all, to understand them. They looked so at peace and so in synchrony with each other, it was heartwarming. Like Theron had said, they weren't alone. They were family.

And I envied them.

With an easy smile matching my own, Sheila approached us and rested a hand on my shoulder. "If you're okay with it, I would like to show you some things."

# 12

"This is where I try to keep our most ancient traditions alive," Sheila said, gesturing to the basement room past the open door.

I peeked inside, expecting bats and spiders, and was surprised. The room was clear and large, probably the size of the entire first floor, with artificial lighting, and a beige and coral mosaic floor. A couple of large wooden tables occupied the center, plus a few scattered chairs and armchairs. Tall shelves filled with any imaginable stuff lined the walls. Broken vials, smelly books, herbs, cards, runes.

A large tapestry hung from the wall, taller than me. It portrayed a girl with long reddish-brown hair, hazel eyes, and olive skin. She was beautiful and radiated power from her pose, with her arms slightly open, her hands covered in flames, her gaze cast down, a bright red glow around her.

"That's Damara," Sheila said from behind me. "She's a symbol for the tzigane."

"Is she a real girl?" I asked, gawking at the beautiful picture.

"She was," Ramon answered. I glanced back at him, wondering how I hadn't noticed he had followed us down here. "She died two hundred years ago." There was a hint of sadness and respect in his tone.

I wanted to ask why, but another detail on the painting caught my attention. Damara was looking down at a flower laid at her feet. The flower was red with a long green stem, but the most interesting part of it was its format at its center, the receptacle, where all the small, red petals met. It was heart shaped, red, and thick, shining like it was a gelatin cushion.

"I've never seen a flower like this one," I muttered.

"That's the Heart Flower," Ramon said.

What an odd, beautiful flower. Yet, something in the back of my mind told me it wasn't that strange.

Sheila's hand closed around my wrist and pulled me to a table where three high stacks of books blocked the tapestry from my sight. I could still see the door, and Theron leaned on its threshold.

"I've been picking up a strong aura coming from you," Sheila started. "Your powers might be strong, and apparently, the alchemists know it."

I crossed my arms, bothered with the subject. "What do you want me to do? I didn't choose to be a tzigane."

She flinched, but recovered and smiled at me. "I want you to learn to use your powers, to dig into them and learn if they are really strong, and it would be useful if you knew how to defend yourself."

A knot formed between my brows. "I don't know how," I admitted, my voice low.

"I want to teach you how to tap into and use your power." Sheila rested her hand over my crossed arms. "You might be able to detect alchemists' presence before they get too close, and if you can't escape them at once, you can defend yourself with your magic."

I glanced around the room. Many mysteries lay before me, flaring up my curiosity, a feeling I didn't know could be this strong until a few days ago when the tzigane story started unraveling.

For many years, I teased my mother, pushed her away even, because of all these mysteries—the lies. Being the reluctant and rebel daughter had its perks, but if unveiling and learning the mysteries could lead to understanding my mother and trying to find a bridge between us, then it would be worth it.

Uncrossing my arms, I stared at Sheila and said, "Then teach me."

The ride back was quiet. From Theron's tense and jerky body movements, I got the feeling he wanted to talk, but I didn't give him many openings. I had too much on my mind and wanted to think.

After I asked Sheila to teach me how to control my powers, we played with my senses a little. It was getting late and I had to get home, but I allowed myself a few minutes of practice with someone who seemed to know what she was doing. Sheila had told me to close my eyes and feel everything around me, not just whatever was calling to me. At first, I couldn't sense anything.

"Keep practicing," she said. "Every time you have a few minutes free, just close your eyes and try it. Hopefully, you'll have felt something by the time you come back."

So, after a quick tutorial of what to do and what to look for, Sheila sent me home. And I used the silence in the car to think. To take it all in. To get used to it.

When Theron parked his Jeep before my building, he finally asked, "Excited?"

"About learning your ways?"

He tsked. " _Our_ ways. Aren't you excited about it?"

"I'm not sure," I confessed.

"Wait till you start using your magic. You will like it." He sounded like a badass guy, one who loved to kick some butt.

"All tziganes have magic?"

"Not in the sense that we can cast spells. Like me for example. I have a powerful sixth sense, I can even communicate with my brother telepathically, but I don't have cool abilities."

"Like?"

"My father can control air, Cora can control the earth, Shay can move objects with his mind, and Jaime can create illusions."

I nodded, filing that information with the rest labeled I-need-more-time-to-take-this-all-in.

I opened the Jeep's door and hopped out.

"Hey." I leaned into the door to hear whatever else he had to say. "You already have my number, but you probably should have Ramon's, Jaime's, Shay's, Rye's, and Cora's too. In case you need help. From alchemists."

I wanted to argue and say I didn't need it, but the last two attacks flashed in my mind and I knew I had to. He told me everyone's cell numbers, including Dolan's, Neil's, and Sheila's, and I entered them into my cell phone.

"Thanks," I said, putting my phone back into my jeans' pocket. "For the ride and for showing me your enclave."

Surprise shone in his dark eyes. "You're welcome."

Disconcerted, I closed the Jeep's door and someone jumped down from a tree into the backseat. Wind cushioned his fall.

"What are you doing with her?" Artan snarled at Theron, his body tense, as if he was ready to fight, even if he was seated inside a car.

"Now? I'm bringing her home," Theron said, as if he was talking to an old friend. "But a few nights ago, I saved her friend from alchemists. You're welcome."

Artan growled and jumped out of the car to my side.

"What were you thinking?" Artan looked down at me, his eyes like enraged golden flames. "You could have been kidnapped. Or worse, killed."

"Thanks to Sara-la-Kali, I can protect her," Theron said as he walked around the Jeep. He stood beside us, his hands inside his pockets, an easy grin on his face.

Artan glared at him, fists clenched. "I forbid you to touch her." His voice was low and raw.

"Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?"

Artan puffed up his chest. "I am A—"

Theron scoffed. "I know who you are, idiot. And you have no claim on her."

"Yes, I do. My enclave has. She's our member."

Theron leaned closer to Artan. "I think that's her choice, and she hasn't chosen yet."

Artan's eyes shifted to me. "I can't believe you went with them. Didn't I tell you to stay away from them? They aren't good people."

"Hey, I'm standing right here." Theron had lost his smile and his voice roughened up. "She's safe with me." He placed his arms over my shoulders and pulled me close. I knew he had done it to anger Artan.

What was it with these guys? Testosterone fight? Damn.

Artan inhaled deeply, the air fighting back the shudder building up from his tension. "Stay away from her." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to his side.

"You ar—"

"Shut up!" I yelled, causing them both to look at me. I jerked away from Artan's hold. "You both stop. I'm not a rag doll you can push and pull and control. If you want my cooperation with anything, then behave, at least when you're around me." I wanted to tell them I would kick their asses if they didn't, but that was impossible. Both were twice or three times my size. No way I could ever put a hand on them.

I turned my back on them and walked across the front yard. When I halted to open the front door, I glanced back at them and saw they were leaning into each other, whispering angry words I couldn't exactly hear.

I tried not to say anything, but I couldn't help myself. I turned toward them, and before entering my building, I said, "Please, stop fighting. I have no idea why your enclaves hate each other, but seriously, you have a common enemy out there. If you unified and battled together, it wouldn't be so hard."

"You scared the hell out of me," my mother said once I opened the door for her.

I checked my phone again. It was one thirty in the afternoon on a Sunday. Didn't she have something better to do?

I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up from my delicious nap. "Good afternoon to you too," I grumbled.

Scoffing, she marched into my apartment. "You can't do that, Mirella."

"What are you talking about?"

I closed the door and dragged my bare feet to the kitchen, where she had gone, and was already filling the kettle with tap water.

She turned fuming eyes to me. "Bellville, what else? You went with them yesterday."

I gaped at her. "How...?" I was going to ask her how she knew, but I realized how. "Artan."

"Yes, that wonderful young man told me he saw you arriving home last night with one of the Bellville members." She tsked, placing the kettle on the range. "I thought you knew better, Mirella. Artan told me he warned you about Bellville."

I took in a long breath, so I would measure my words before blurting them out. "Mom, I'm not a kid anymore. I can go out with whomever I want."

She took two mugs from the cabinet and prepared them with tea and honey. "It's not about being a kid. This is about being a tzigane."

Rolling my eyes, I sat on one of the stools before the tall counter. "Please, I don't want to talk about this anymore. No more tzigane stuff, okay?" Not with her.

"You're a tzigane, Mirella. A powerful one. You can't hide from that."

I wasn't trying to hide from that anymore, but I also wouldn't go about the world announcing it. Nor did I need to share with her what I did or didn't do about my life.

I drank the tea she made, out of respect for her, but then retreated to my bedroom, well aware she was starting dinner early.

My mother's presence unsettled me. I felt this tension between us, like an electrical fence that no one knew how to turn off. I appreciated her cooking and cleaning and sometimes even her worry, but I couldn't handle how distant she was with me, even when she was standing by my side.

After a quick shower, I grabbed my dance tote, and while my mother was engrossed in her cooking, I slipped out of the apartment.

The warm wind hit my face the moment I walked out of the building, and I lifted my chin, inhaling it. Here in the north, the summer air wasn't as stuffy as the other places my mother and I had lived. It was just right.

Taking in another lungful of the balmy breeze, I started the short walk to the dance studio. Being Sunday, the place would be empty, perfect for me to dance alone and relieve some of my tension and stress.

It didn't matter if I was a tzigane or not. I just had to go on with my life. To live each day like I always had. To go to my college classes, to teach ballet and flamenco, take some adult dance classes when I could, see where my relationship with Phillip was headed, and hopefully, fix my friendship with Ellie—or not. Though my mind argued about the risk, about all the problems and danger of having her getting more involved with me, my heart wouldn't listen. I missed Ellie, her wide smile, her easy laughter, and her boy-obsessed mind.

No, no, I had to ignore my heart.

Ellie had to stay away from me. And I had to be alone.

Alone...

With my iPod blaring in my ears, I didn't think about if I was being followed or not. I tried not to. Temptation to use my senses crept up.

My breathing grew shallow and my palms dampened. I glanced around. Alchemists could be creeping up behind me. I didn't want any help from any more strangers, nor did I want to be followed by Lovell or Bellville, but that didn't mean I wanted to be attacked. Or killed.

The next thing I realized, I was jogging the last two blocks to the dance studio, my keys already in my hands.

Inside, I felt safer. I locked the doors and didn't turn on the lights, so from the outside the place looked deserted.

After changing into my dance clothes—black backless leotard, tights, and a flowing red skirt and flamenco shoes—and stepping into the classroom, I already felt more relaxed.

I connected my phone with the stereo and music blasted from the speakers, filling the classroom with the string of chords and the rhythm of my heart.

I closed my eyes and let the beat fill me, take me. My hips started moving, my feet started tapping, and my hands curled around my body. For six long songs, I didn't stop. I just danced and danced, working up a sweat, not caring about my shallow breathing. The dancing and the songs, they nurtured my soul, made me feel bold, sexy, and invincible.

I closed my eyes every so often, letting the rhythm take me whenever it wanted, without glancing at the mirrors on the walls. My hair whipped across my face, like a long, dark wave from the deep ocean.

After the seventh song, I changed to reggaeton while I paused the dancing and caught my breath.

The tingling exploded in my mind, the pendant inside my bra warmed, and I gasped. I closed my eyes, letting my shields fall a bit so I could follow it. But whatever it was that spiked my senses was here.

Right here.

My eyes fluttered open and I snapped my head to the door.

With crossed arms, Artan stood leaned against the doorjamb, his narrowed eyes on me.

"W-what are you doing here?" And how long had he been there? Had he seen me dancing? Embarrassment heated my cheeks.

"I was sent to check on you."

I frowned. "So, what... does that mean you're following me now?"

"Not really. We check on you often, that's all," he said, as if that was normal.

Just like Theron. "Do tziganes always stalk girls like that?"

"Just the ones that insist on being difficult." One corner of his lips tugged up, but it only lasted a second. Then he was back to his serious, stoic self. "Come on."

I crossed my arms. "I'm not going to Lovell."

"I know. I'm taking you out for a snack."

I gaped at him. "W-why?"

"Because I'm supposed to return you back home safely, but since I know you probably don't want to go home just yet, and I'm not in the mood to watch you dance, I thought we could grab something to eat." He seemed bored with his task. "Besides, I'm hungry."

"What if I say no?"

"Then I have no choice but to sit here and watch you dance until you decide to go home." His voice was hoarse and he averted his eyes.

What? Was it so bad to watch me dance? As far as I knew, I was a good dancer. Probably far from being the best one out there, but I could hold my own.

Yet, he had just seen me dance, at least for a minute, and was unimpressed. Bored. With his hurry to leave, I would say he was even disgusted.

With a sigh, I nodded. "Okay."

"I'll wait outside," was all he said before turning on his heels and walking out.

I let out a long breath as if I hadn't breathed properly since I first saw him standing there. It was probably true.

I changed back into my ripped jean shorts and loose blouse with lace details, shoved my dancing gear inside my tote, and, after locking the studio, I walked out to meet Artan.

I froze, realizing two things.

Artan was waiting by his SUV, and as I walked to him, I lifted two fingers. "One, how did you get in if the door was locked, and two, why didn't I sense you?" He graced me with one of his rare lopsided grins, but he didn't answer. He opened the passenger door for me. "I'm waiting for an answer."

"Just get inside," he said, sounding bored.

Groaning, I hopped into his SUV. He closed the door, then jogged around the car and slipped into the driver's seat. He started the SUV, and then turned to look at me, those hazel eyes shining.

"One, do you think it's that hard to pick a lock? Two, because you were too lost in the music and the dance to notice? That's my guess."

I had been really lost dancing, so it was a possibility, one I didn't really like. Did that mean that I wasn't always going to sense when someone got close to me like that? I was hoping my senses were good enough by now to sense others, especially alchemists. Well, if they were, then I wouldn't have agreed to train with Sheila.

In silence, he drove us to a quaint diner a few minutes from the studio. I had been here only a handful of times but knew the menu was great.

Not being able to decide, I ordered a ham and cheese _and_ a chocolate croissants and tea, and Artan asked for one of their famous bacon quiches and black coffee.

The waitress walked away to put in our order, and I glanced out the window.

I was eating out with Artan, a warrior from Lovell.

When did my life become so weird?

Leaning over the table, Artan steepled his fingers and said in his rough voice, "I have one question. Why did you say no to Lovell so many times, and then go to Bellville so easily?"

"How do you know it was easily?" I narrowed my eyes at him. "Were you spying on me?"

"Don't say spy. It sounds so shady. I was checking on you to make sure you and your mother were okay. But no, not at that time. Though I knew something was up when I came to check on you twice yesterday and didn't find you. And I looked at the dance studio, at school, your friend's dorm, and your mother's place. So, I waited for you until you came back."

I clasped my hands under the table. "What if I hadn't come back?"

"I was giving you a couple more hours before calling in and getting a search party together."

A search party... for me?

I shook my head. "Why? Why me? Why are you all so interested in me? Don't you have other tziganes to worry about?"

"Other tziganes don't give us so many headaches. They know how to behave."

To behave... as if I were a child and not obeying my parents. Ridiculous. "Seriously, why me?"

He shrugged. "Why are the alchemists so interested in you? We don't know. The thing is, there are more alchemists around and making our life more difficult since all of this started. If it was up to my _puri daj_ , you would be living inside our enclave and following our rules closely."

"That's why," I said.

"That's why what?"

"Why I went with Bellville and not with Lovell. Because with your enclave, I feel threatened, like if I don't do whatever Darcy wants, I'll suffer the consequences."

"That's not—"

He shut his mouth when the waitress came back with our order.

"Thank you," I said, noticing the way she looked at Artan. Yes, yes, he was handsome, could we move on, please?

She smiled at me, then at him, lingering a bit. Artan barely glanced her way when he nodded his thanks.

The woman walked away and he said in a lower voice, "That's not true. I know she seems harsh, but she's not like that. The oldest people in our enclave are members of the elders' council, who help the rom baro with decisions and rules. My _puri daj_ is one of the elders. She became the best advisor to the rom baro because of her firm hand. But with her family, she's as sweet as honey."

"Hard to believe." I took a bite from my croissant.

"Give her a chance. Come with me to Lovell. You'll love it there."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's... the perfect place. There's no one who has been there and not fallen in love with it." His voice rang with pride, and for a moment, I believed him.

"I'll... think about it," I promised him.

The hint of a smile appeared on his lips. "That's all I'm asking."

# 13

I still didn't want to go back home after the afternoon snack, so I simply steered away from Artan's SUV and slowed my steps, as if going for a stroll around the neighborhood. Artan followed close on my heels.

Maybe going for a walk wasn't such a good idea, not with a six-foot-three bodyguard looking like he would kill anyone who got too close.

For several blocks, we walked in silence, Artan half a step behind me. Everyone probably thought we were strangers. Which wasn't entirely far from the truth. Artan was a stranger to me, and besides his aggressive hotness, he was quite frightening.

After an hour walking, my legs were getting tired. It was almost five and I should be back home, even if I wasn't ready to spend the rest of the evening with my mother. However, I wasn't sure I could endure Artan's unsettling figure for much longer.

If only I could order him to go away and tell the others to stay away, too. I didn't need a babysitter. I sure didn't want one, at least. But my opinion didn't matter, did it? Several scenarios surged in my mind, and in none of them did I see myself going against an imposing tzigane.

I rounded a corner and realized I was four blocks from home. I had been walking without direction, and yet my feet brought me here.

"Ready to go home, I assume."

"Not really..." I frowned. "Your car... it's back at the diner. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's okay."

My building came into view, and I glanced at my floor, more precisely at my bedroom window. Shit. I made a mental note never to leave the drapes of my bedroom window open again—not when Artan and Theron were always checking on me.

I skidded to a stop before the front yard. A few golden shrubs were now in the flower beds, as if they had sprouted there a few minutes ago, but this time, there were a few silver and bluish flowers among the golden ones. It was quite beautiful and their scent was strong, fresh, and sweet.

Artan halted by my side and followed my stare. "Golden horehound. My father had the shrubs planted so there's some protection around the building."

Just now? Because I had been gone for only a few hours.

I glanced at him. "Why?" I repeated the same question from before. I wasn't sure he knew the answer. I wasn't sure there was an answer to my question. "Why do I need to be protected? If my mother was banished, why do you care about her daughter?"

"Don't ask me." He kept staring at the plants, probably to avoid my inquisitive eyes. "I don't know any more than you do."

Oh, but he did. He was one of them. He certainly knew more about me, but for some reason, he didn't want to tell me. Or he couldn't.

"Well," I started, uncertain of what to say. I didn't want to invite him in, but I knew he would stay outside for a while longer. Ugh, I hated being babysat. Should I say good evening, or just pretend he would leave too? "If you ..."

Something tugged deep in me, tingling started in my mind, and my pendant warmed against my skin. I looked around, to the shadows under the trees around the property.

Artan took a step closer to me. "I feel it too." His body was tense beside mine, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter of the parking lot and the building.

A foreign force stabbed at my mind, like a fishing hook. I looked out to my right, to where the trees were closer together, forming a thick green barrier. Behind the trees, the sun dipped further.

And the shadows advanced.

"There." I jerked my chin to where the feeling, a heavy, oily feeling came from, where it was hiding. Waiting. "It's coming from there."

Artan snapped his attention to the trees and squinted his eyes, trying to see through the shadows growing darker.

A chill ran down my body and I took a step back, bumping into Artan. I stayed glued to him. His arm snaked around my torso, keeping me close.

"Alchemists?" I asked, though the heavy, dark feeling was a little different from the one I had sensed in the parking garage when I first encountered our enemies.

He shook his head. "No." Slowly, Artan slid his arm down my body and clutched my hand tight. "Grab your keys." His voice was low, firm. "Keep them ready. When I say, we run to the front door."

"Okay," I whispered. With deliberate movements, I reached into my purse with my free hand and took my keys. That was when I noticed my hands were shaking. "I'm ready." Even my voice trembled.

The shadows spread, faster than the setting sun. Faster and thicker. It felt... like we were surrounded by pure darkness, and it was closing in on us.

The sound of metal scratching the concrete filled the air, followed by a thin screech.

"W-what was that?" I croaked.

Something lunged from the shadows.

Artan squeezed my hand once. "Now! Run now!"

I moved with him, as fast as I could, but his legs were much longer than mine, and he practically hauled me toward the building's front door.

Panic flooded my chest, and I didn't dare look back as the scratching and the screeches echoed behind us, closer and closer.

Then, _something_ landed right in front of the door. Artan skidded to a stop and I bumped into him, my heart hammering in my chest, my chin on the floor as I took in the creature now snarling at us.

What... What was _that_?

I didn't know what it looked like. The creature was tall, almost as tall as Artan, with wide shoulders and a long head, thin chin. Its skin was a decaying gray, its eyes were all black, as depthless as the night sky, its ears pointy, its mouth was wide, with plenty of razor-sharp teeth—and two long fangs. The creature lifted its elongated limbs, revealing four fingers ending in jagged claws.

My heart froze for a moment, then went back to a hard, fast rhythm.

The creature snarled at us.

"Don't move," Artan whispered. Very, very slowly, he reached down, to the hem of his pants. He pulled it up, revealing a dagger strapped to his calf. "Get ready to duck."

My mind was racing more than my heart, but I tried making sense of what he was saying.

Fight. He planned on fighting the creature. And I had to get out of the way.

He didn't need to tell me twice.

Just as Artan's fingers grazed on the leather straps around his leg, screeches rang right behind us.

"Shit," he muttered.

Artan closed his hand around his dagger and the creature in front of us lunged.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

Artan threw his hand out and a strong current washed over the creature, slamming it against the door. Then he pivoted us around, just as two others pounced after us. He used the same air trick to push them back.

"Stay close," he said, finally picking up his dagger.

Keeping me at his back, Artan walked back, out of the circle the three creatures had formed around us, so he could face them all at the same time.

The creatures didn't seem a bit fazed as they bared their teeth and advanced on us.

I clutched Artan's arm. "What can I do?" Even though panic threatened to paralyze me, I wanted to help.

He raised his dagger. "Just stay out of my way."

The creature in the middle leaped at us. Like before, Artan used his powers and threw the creature back, several yards away.

"Look out!" I called just as the creature on the right came for us.

Artan only had time to turn to the monster and parry its attack. I stepped back as the creature swiped a heavy claw toward Artan. He ducked, stepping aside. When Artan straightened, he was on the side of the creature, his dagger buried deep into the creature's stomach.

A claw closed around my neck. My heart and my breathing stopped. The third creature loomed behind me, its mouth and fangs leaning down over me. I whimpered, shaking hard when its other claw closed around my shoulder, pulling me back, closer to it.

The fear rendered me useless.

No, no. I wouldn't give up this easily. I tried thinking through the panic overwhelming me. Artan was still fighting the other creature—it didn't want to go down, even after several stabs from Artan and his dagger.

The first one was on the move, charging fast.

"Artan!" I cried.

He glanced over his shoulder as the creature jumped at him. Artan twisted out of the way and threw his hand up, sending another powerful rush of air to the creature and buying a little more time.

The claws of the creature holding me tightened around my shoulders, and its big mouth hovered over my neck. I scrunched my nose, nauseated by the rotted odor coming from its putrid mouth.

No, no, no... I wouldn't go down without a fight.

Acting without thinking, I stepped on the creature's foot with all I had, then elbowed its stomach hard. Its hold on me loosened momentarily, and I tried to run.

Meanwhile, Artan let out a loud growl. Like a graceful dancer, he whirled around and landed a kick to the creature's chest, then another to its chin. The creature lifted its head with the force of the impact, exposing its neck.

And Artan stepped in, plunging his dagger deep.

For a moment, I thought I was free, that I had escaped. Only to have the claws closed around my shoulders harder, their sharp points digging deep into my skin. The creature leaned over me once more, going for my neck without wasting more time.

Its fangs grazed my skin and I let out a cry.

"Don't move!" was the only warning I got. The next second, Artan's dagger was buried in the creature's forehead. Its heavy body fell over me, and I went down with it.

But before I was crushed, Artan sent another wave of air my way, gentle enough to keep me up and tip the creature so it would fall to the other side.

With bared teeth, Artan straddled the creature, his feet on each side of the creature's chest. He pulled out the dagger, just to pierce it again, this time on its neck.

Not wasting any time, Artan turned to the third and final monster—it was already only a few feet from us again.

Artan let out another growl before running toward the creature. Using his powers, he lifted himself from the ground and landed a hard kick on the creature's chest. It went down without any resistance. Artan kept a strong current coming, holding the monster down just until he impaled the creature's neck with his dagger.

Instantly, the heavy shadows fell away, and the dark orange of the setting sun appeared in the distance.

His shoulders tense, Artan turned to me and fixed those intense amber eyes on mine. "Are you okay?"

I opened my mouth to say yes. An automatic response, a lie. Instead, I shook my head.

# 14

I paced around the living room, hugging my midriff so I wouldn't see how badly my arms still shook.

After killing the monsters, Artan took me back inside the apartment and asked my mother to keep an eye on me while he went back outside—to get rid of the monsters' bodies and check for more.

I didn't like the idea of him alone out there, where more of those creatures could be lurking, but what else could I do? I was dead weight.

My mother stepped in my way and I yelped, jumping back, my trembling hand over my racing heart.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Here." She showed me the big mug filled to the brim with tea. "It's chamomile and... something else. It'll help you calm down."

I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, the tea almost spilling over, and I sat on the couch. I took a long sip of the tea, not caring that it almost burned my tongue, and I felt it spreading inside me, warming me over and slowly, gently calming my nerves. I took another long sip and sighed in relief.

My mother sat beside me. "Feeling better?"

"Yes..." I drank some more. My hands were still shaking, my heart was still beating faster than usual, but whatever my mother had put in here with the chamomile... it was working. "Yes, I feel better."

"I—"

The jingling of keys came two seconds before the door opened. Face grim, Artan stepped inside and locked the door again.

He turned to me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I have tea."

My mother offered him a small smile. "I'll make some for you too, Artan." She shot up and went back to the kitchen.

Artan took a few steps closer to me, but stood tall, stoic, like a warrior.

"So... what was that?" I finally asked the question that was burning in my mind. "They looked like... vampires," I whispered the last word, lest I sound insane saying it.

With a loud sigh, Artan sat down on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of me. "In some ways, they are." My eyes bugged. "There are several kinds of vampires out there, and you just met one, the Revenants."

My mother appeared by our side, a tea mug extended to Artan. "I'm glad you were there to stop them."

Artan nodded once in thanks and took the mug from my mother. "Me too."

"But why... why were they here?" I asked.

"Like the vampires in fiction, these ones are attracted by blood," Artan explained.

"Especially tzigane blood," my mother added.

"Especially tzigane blood," Artan repeated, nodding. "Usually, they don't brave public places before nighttime, but I guess the blood they smelled was too strong to resist. Too powerful." He gave me a pointed look.

I gasped. "Me? No... I'm not powerful." My mother sucked in a sharp breath then, and I snapped my head to her.

Before I could say anything, Artan continued, "I took care of those three and I scouted the area. There are no more Revenants nearby."

"Won't they come back?" I asked.

"It's a possibility... but unlikely," he said. "Once a Revenant is killed, the others avoid that same area. We don't exactly know why, but we think it's because once they die, the place becomes tainted for them, as if they could sense danger there. Death, perhaps. So they stay away." He paused. "The blood they smelled has to be _really_ powerful for them to come back."

They wouldn't be back then, because my mother barely had her powers, and mine were laughable.

But my curiosity still wasn't sated. It had been the first time I had seen something... _not_ human and I couldn't wrap my mind around it.

"I saw you going for their necks. So... the only way to kill them is a stab to the neck." The images I had seen not even an hour ago came back to the front of my mind. Ugly cuts and rips, and dark red blood everywhere. My stomach flipped.

"A stab through the neck is the beginning," Artan said. "To make sure they stay down, you have to take off their heads."

I gaped at him. "Take off..." I swallowed hard. "You took off their heads."

He nodded. "I couldn't do it with the dagger; it would take much work. So, I stabbed them in the neck, knowing I would have to do more. I picked up my car, where my sword was, took their bodies into the woods just outside town, and I slashed their heads. Then I buried them, so no one will find them."

I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to keep everything I had eaten that afternoon in.

My mother gasped, her eyes widening at Artan. "You're bleeding."

I looked over at him, and sure enough, there was a wide cut on the sleeve of his shirt and blood trickled down.

He glanced at it. "It's nothing. I'll be okay."

"But we better treat it," my mother said. "I can..." She glanced to the kitchen. "I can make something." Then she disappeared again.

I just shook my head at her. "Wait here," I told Artan. I let go of my tea mug and went to my bathroom, where my first aid kit was. Walking back, I noticed my mother scavenging my cabinets, grabbing all the herbs I had and more. I shook my head again and sat back in the same spot on the couch.

This I could do. I could clean a wound and put a bandage over his cut. That would take the creatures off my mind. Hopefully.

"You should take a look at yourself too," Artan said, his eyes on my left shoulder.

"What?" I lowered my head. My blouse was ripped in several places around my shoulders and upper arms. I pulled the neckline of my blouse to the side, revealing the two long red lines over my shoulder. And, as if on cue, the damn things started burning. "Shit."

One corner of his lips tugged up. "We'll take care of you first." He reached for the first aid kit.

I slapped his hand away. "No. This is just a scratch. Yours is bleeding." He was serious again when I scooted to the edge of the couch, to get closer to him. I peeked inside the tear on his shirt, but all I could see was blood.

Without ceremony, Artan tugged on the sleeve, ripping it off completely. "There."

"That works," I muttered.

With some gauze, I cleaned up most of the blood around the wound and took a good look at it. The cut went over his bicep down to his tricep, almost a full circle. It wasn't deep, but it was long and there was blood still trickling down from the edges. It didn't look like it would need stitches, but I would only be sure once I had cleaned it.

I put his big hand on my knee, extending his left arm. Then I dampened the gauze with antiseptic and began cleaning the wound. Artan hissed and let out a string of colorful curses. His arm tensed and his muscles expanded, hardening some more. I didn't think I had seen so many lean muscles in one arm and one shoulder before. It was... mesmerizing.

Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts aside and tried to find something else to focus on. My eyes immediately found his tattoo. It was a bunch of lines—some wavy, some straight, some thin, some thick, all of them either in black or dark red—spread over the middle of his forearm to the middle of his upper arm, just under the cut. It didn't quite form a sleeve, but it was close.

"What does it mean?"

Gently, he moved his arm, turning most of the tattoo to me. I withdrew my hands and paid attention.

"Each line means something." He pointed to the lines as he said, "This one is for honor, this one is for tradition, this one is for strength, this one is for family, and so on."

"Is that a warrior thing?" I asked, pushing his hand back and returning mine to his wound. "You have to complete a few tasks to earn the lines?"

A brief lopsided smile adorned his lips. "No, nothing like that. Warriors don't have tattoos. This was just... this was for me."

He was looking down at the wound, probably paying attention to how I cleaned his cut. If I did something wrong, I was sure he would chide me.

Meanwhile, I looked up at him, at his rough face. At his amber eyes, and his tanned skin, and the stubble over his chin and sharp jaw. His hair was more disheveled than usual, probably because of the fight, but it still curled under his ear, and his earring. He was handsome; there was no denying that. I couldn't blame the poor waitress for trying to get his attention.

A small smile spread over my lips. "Was that for you too?" I jerked my chin toward his earring.

It took him a moment to know what I was talking about. "Oh, this?" He touched his earring with his free hand. "This is normal for us. Men wear earrings and necklaces and bracelets and rings. Probably not as much as the women, but all of us have something."

Yes, I had noticed that.

A chuckle bubbled out of me. "Well, Theron has his left ear covered in small hoops. I could argue his earrings rival the jewelry of any woman."

Artan lifted his head, facing me with hard eyes. "Why do you have to bring up Theron?" He straightened, pulling his arm away. "What's up between Theron and you?"

Right then, my mother walked up to us. She halted a few feet away, her cheeks flushed. "I've... I've brought a little healing paste. You should spread it over your cut. It'll speed your healing."

I extended my hand to her. "I'll take it."

She handed me the bowl, her eyes bulging at the sight of my shoulder. "You're hurt too."

"I'll live." I placed the bowl on my lap and the strong scent of all the spices and herbs hit my nose.

"Apply the paste on your scratch too," my mother said. "It'll help."

"I'll do it," Artan said, taking the bowl from me.

"I'll just..." My mother pointed toward the kitchen. "Make more tea." Then she scurried off.

Artan reached for my shoulder and I slapped his hand away. "Hey."

He faced me, as serious and stoic as ever. "Let me do this."

"Your cut is much worse," I retorted.

He shrugged. "I won't die if I wait a few more minutes."

Gently, he pulled the neck of my blouse a little farther, exposing my shoulder some more. With soft fingers, he spread some of the paste over my scratch. "Answer my question."

I tried not paying attention to the way his fingers slid against my skin, or to his perfect face so close to mine.

"What question?" I asked, lost.

He locked those amber eyes on mine. "You and Theron."

I scoffed, leaning back. "Theron is just... he's Theron. A friend. I think."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "And what about the _gadjo_?"

I sucked in a sharp breath. "You mean Phillip."

"Yes, the _gadjo_."

I didn't know if he was finished or not, but I grabbed the bowl from him and dipped my fingers into the paste. It was thick and coarse from the ground herbs.

"He's none of your business," I snapped, on the defensive. I pulled his arm so his big, warm hand was back on my knee and started spreading the paste over his cut.

"But he's a _gadjo_."

"And?"

"Tziganes shouldn't date _gadjos_. Tziganes are to be married to tziganes."

Pressing my lips tight, I pushed my fingers hard on his cut while spreading the paste, just so he knew, _felt_ , how much I despised his opinion.

Artan hissed and pulled back.

As if sensing we were talking about him, my phone rang and Phillip's name flashed on the screen.

I stood, as if I needed to get away from Artan to talk to Phillip, and answered my phone.

"Hi."

"Hey, I'm back," Phillip announced. He sounded relaxed. "I don't have much time before I need to pick up Annie at my mother's place, but I would like to see you."

I turned my back to Artan. "I would like that." I smiled at the phone. I gave him my address and promised to be outside when he arrived in ten minutes.

After I ended the call, I turned around and found Artan on his feet, a frown between his brows.

"You were just attacked outside and you're planning on going out so soon?" His voice was as cold as ice.

"Well, I'm not looking forward to going outside at night just yet, but I can't hide in here forever."

Shaking his head, he let out a long breath. "I'm gonna check around the building and the neighborhood again. If I see anything, I'll let you know."

He quickly thanked my mother for the healing paste, then marched out of the apartment without a goodbye.

My mother hissed from the kitchen.

"What?" I snapped at her, suddenly irritated.

"He's right, you know."

I put my hands on my waist. "About?"

"You shouldn't go back out there so soon, especially not at night." She paused, her gaze more defiant than I had ever seen before. "And you shouldn't date a _gadjo_. It _never_ ends well."

# 15

I ignored my mother's advice. Instead, I put a thin bandage over my scratch and the healing paste and put on a blouse with a more modest neckline, so Phillip couldn't see the bandage on my shoulder.

My phone vibrated on my dresser.

Phillip: _I'm outside_.

A smile spread over my lips, and I practically raced to the front of the building.

A black Honda Civic was parked a little to the right of the building, right beside a bright lamp post shining down on Phillip, who was leaning against the side of the car.

I slowed my steps and forced myself to take my time, to look cool, as if I wasn't eager to touch him and feel him after so many days.

"Hi," I said, halting only a couple of feet from him.

"Hi." His blue eyes ran the length of me, and I prayed I hadn't forgotten to clean any dirt or blood smudge from before. "You look beautiful."

My cheeks warmed. "Don't say that. I'm nothing much." I gestured down to my simple jeans and blouse. I had cute flats and some colorful jewelry, but that was it.

His eyes sparkled. "I'll change my sentence then. You _are_ beautiful. No matter what you wear, you're beautiful."

The heat in my cheeks spread down low. I bit my lip and stepped into him.

His arms slid around me and pulled me even closer. "Sorry I couldn't take you out this weekend."

On tiptoes, I tilted my chin up to him. "You're here now, aren't you?"

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't kiss me. Phillip held my gaze, his blue eyes flashing with apprehension and craving. Then his lips crushed against mine, his craving transferring to me, filling me with wants and needs. His hands traveled down my body and a shiver slid up my spine. I pressed myself into him, wanting to feel him, to feel his skin, wanting to rip off his clothes and—

I pulled back as the knowledge that we were possibly being watched pulsed in my mind. Damn it.

"What is it?" Phillip asked, his tone gentle and still hungry. I wanted to sate his hunger. "You tensed all of sudden."

"Nothing," I lied. I saw in his eyes that I hadn't convinced him. I sighed and extended my lie. "My mother is here. She's preparing dinner for us, and I was thinking I shouldn't ditch her right now."

"Ah." Phillip glanced at my building. "I don't want her to be mad at me. You know, I plan on meeting her at some point." My insides melted as he brushed his lips against mine again. "You should go back inside, then."

But I didn't want to leave him so soon. "You just got here." I practically pouted. "Do you want to come inside? I bet there's plenty of food for everyone." Not the best idea with my mother inside, but at least I could spend more time with him.

Phillip offered me a warm smile and brushed a curl out of my face. "I should go pick up Annie at my mother's. She texted me saying Annie is calling for me."

My eyes bugged. Shit. "Oh, okay."

His arms squeezed me. "At least I got to see you."

With my arm around his neck, I pulled his head down so my lips could meet his again. I kissed him and hoped he could feel, through the kiss, how I wanted to be with him, how I wished he was free and we could go to a quiet place where we could make a lot of noise.

When he pulled back, he was panting. "Jesus, you're going to kill me."

I pulled his head down again and licked his ear before whispering, "If it's while you're above me, I'll be happy."

His mouth fell over mine once more. With one arm around my waist, Phillip turned us around and pinned me to his car, the weight of his body pressing against mine.

"Somewhat like this."

"Jesus, woman," he whispered. His tongue slid down my neck and he bit my shoulder. "You can't say stuff like that. I won't be able to go pick up Annie now."

"All right," I teased him as I dropped my arms to my sides and went still. "Then I'll behave so you can leave me."

Phillip groaned and I laughed. Then his eyes fixed on mine. "I don't understand how I can feel this way about you when I barely know you." I nodded, feeling the same. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. If it were up to me, I wouldn't let you out of my sight for a second."

Speaking of which, Artan was possibly watching me right now.

"So, we should schedule a real date, don't you think?"

He nodded. "How about tomorrow?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "A date on a Monday?"

"You never know when my boss is gonna call and ask me to work like crazy, so yes, a date on a Monday."

I smiled. "Sounds good."

I kissed him again then shooed him away before I lost control and asked him to take me to his place. With or without Annie around.

After watching Phillip's car disappear around the corner, I walked to the building's front door.

"Good night," I said in my regular tone, knowing Artan was out there.

At eight on the dot, Phillip arrived.

I slid inside his car and was instantly embraced and scooped over to his side.

He kissed me and I melted in his arms.

When he pulled back, I felt like resisting. "Hi," he whispered, his eyes intent on mine.

My heart fluttered. "Hi," I said, aware of the singing tone of my voice.

He let me straighten in the passenger seat and put on the seat belt. "Where do you want to go?" Phillip asked as he drove away from my building.

I lay against the seat and stared at him, my fingertips brushing the pendant hanging from my neck.

At least this part of my life was normal. Or almost normal. I had met a guy I liked and who liked me back, and now we were going out for dinner. I wouldn't mind if it was only a burger and fries, as long as we could talk about regular stuff and I could pretend everything else going on in my life was a lie.

"What?" He peeked at me and smiled.

My heart fluttered again. His blue eyes were ninety-nine percent of the time on the road, and I could admire his profile, the way his blond hair was combed back and emphasized the hard lines of his beautiful face, the way his shirt hugged his strong arms and his molded chest. I bit my lip.

"Say something." He glanced at me again. "Are you going to just stare at me all night?"

"It wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Then I propose we park the car somewhere so I can stare at you too."

I chuckled and closed my eyes. I would leave the freak world for another day. Right now, I needed to feel whatever Phillip was feeling. I reached out and put my hand on his leg. He winced in surprise and I smiled, but didn't open my eyes.

The walls melted away and my senses swam around. It was happening faster now, stronger, like it improved with practice.

My senses, the colored beams interpretation of them, floated toward Phillip and disappeared inside him. Then they came back, clashing against me and I gasped.

Phillip was hungry and it wasn't for food. He wanted me. Really wanted me. He was also tired, seeing as he had had a long busy day, but that wouldn't keep him away from me. And that made me happy.

"Mirella, what are you doing?"

I opened my eyes and smiled at him. "Enjoying the company."

He cast me a dubious look. "You still didn't tell me where you want to eat. I'm driving in circles here."

"Do you like pizza?" I asked.

"Very much."

"I know a place with the best pizza ever."

I gave him directions, and he drove us to the pizza place Ellie and Tonia had taken me to, The Pizza Tower. That memory saddened me a little. I had crossed paths with Ellie on campus earlier today, and when her eyes met mine, she hurried in the other direction.

I pushed that thought away and focused on the guy by my side.

We took a booth in a corner. Perfect. I scooted over to him and leaned my back on his chest.

"You're awfully quiet," he whispered, close to my ear, his breath sending tingles over my neck.

"My day wasn't very good," I confessed. And it was only Monday. This week promised to be long. "I just want to stay with you, like this." I pressed myself against him and he helped, tightening his arms around my waist.

In a hurry, a waitress came and took our order.

When she was gone, Phillip's mouth slid down my neck, his warm breath making me shiver.

Then, he stiffened. "What's this?" He ran a finger over the thin red line on my shoulder.

"It's nothing." I straightened, fixing my blouse so it would cover my shoulder.

"Was it there last night? I don't remember."

"It was," I said, averting his eyes. "Don't worry about it."

A worried line formed over his brows. "The bruise on your cheek the other day, now a cut on your shoulder."

"It's just a scratch. It's nothing." I smiled, hoping it was brave enough. "Just forget about it."

"If you want," he mumbled.

The rest of the night was awkward and almost silent. Phillip didn't ask me about my wounds anymore, but he also didn't ask about much of anything. I felt like I was losing here. This was supposed to be a romantic getaway, an adventure in the arms of a hot man that would help me get insane things out of my mind. But it was only making it worse.

I asked him a few things to keep conversation flowing. With an uninterested tone, Phillip told me he was working on three big research projects and a few small ones. He was thinking about applying for another Ph.D. program, but he was weighing it because of his intense workload. I was also able to find out he was twenty-seven with a birthday in June, and that he was from West Virginia and had a big family and too many sisters who complained he didn't visit enough. The last thing I got from him was about his last girlfriend. Their relationship lasted less than six months, about two years ago. Though I wasn't brave enough to ask why it had ended.

For now, I wouldn't worry about our relationship because there was still none. For now, I was battling against the trust part of spending time with him. I was trying to figure out why this date suddenly felt wrong and how to fix it.

Worse than the time at the pizza place was the drive home. He parked his car before my building, and after a quick peck, we muttered goodbyes.

With my heart heavy and almost weeping, I opened the car door and was about to leave when Phillip grabbed my arm. "Wait." He pulled me closer and I didn't resist. "I don't want you to go like that." I stared up at him and let him continue. "I like you. I don't know what's happening to you, and why I get the feeling you're hiding things from me—" So deja vu. "—but I want to get to know you. I wa—"

I shut him up with my mouth over his.

It was getting easier to feel his emotions. I didn't need to concentrate so hard anymore or let my mind open. I just needed to concentrate on him.

Right now, his will to make things work with me and his desire for me overwhelmed me. I gave in.

Being lithe, I stretched over and sat astride him, careful not to honk the horn with my butt.

What did I care about being in the middle of the street at 11 p.m.? About being in front of my building and knowing my mother could be spying? I didn't care if I didn't trust him completely. I didn't need to trust him to sleep with him.

I slipped my tongue inside his mouth and my hands slid under his shirt. He moaned and clutched my thighs, shifting his weight so he could brush the growing lump in his pants against me. I bit his lip and moved my hips, increasing the contact area between our legs and spreading heat down my body.

"Don't provoke me," he whispered as his hands slid to my butt.

"Or what?" I licked his lips. His arms pulled me closer, and I felt his heart beating as fast as mine. His mouth claimed mine with pure desire, and I responded by moving my hips again.

"You're killing me here."

"Good," I whispered against his mouth. His hands slipped under my blouse and his fingertips grazed up and down my back, sending shivers up my spine.

The sharp squeal of tires startled me. I jumped and ended up sitting on the wheel and honking the damn horn.

"Shit," I muttered and glanced to my building in the dark. If the braking tires didn't wake the entire building, the freaking horn did.

Phillip stared past me, to the street. "Almost an accident." He pointed behind me and I turned to see what he was talking about.

In the street ahead, perpendicular to the one we were on, two cars were blocking traffic, the drivers out of their cars shouting at each other.

What a nice bucket of cold water. What was I doing? What had I almost done? Slowly, I stretched over and sat on the passenger's seat.

"Where are you going?" Phillip asked. His hands reached out to me and tried to pull me back to him.

I let him embrace and kiss me, but not more than that. Noticing my change, Phillip pulled back a little to stare at me.

"I know you like me," I began. The heat in my body moved up to my cheeks. "And I like you too. But we're going too fast." My words sounded like a teenager's, and I almost regretted them. "Just because we aren't kids anymore doesn't mean I'm easy and go around sleeping with guys."

Besides, this was the first time I could feel what a guy was feeling, and the knowledge that he wanted to make our relationship work was overwhelming. It filled me with hope that I could learn how to trust someone. That I could trust Phillip.

His lips curled up in a grin. Shit, I wanted to kiss him and forget my speech. "Thank God you don't." His hand cupped my face. "We can go a little slower," he whispered, "though I can't promise I'll be able to resist you much longer. Being with you and not having you is killing me." His lips closed on mine and I shivered, the thoughts in my mind swirling. Damn, why did I have to play the good girl now?

Before I changed my mind, I disentangled myself from him and left his car. He promised to call me the next day so we could do something together. I liked that idea.

I halted at the front steps and watched as he drove away.

A smile spread over my lips.

The tingling in my head started and I glanced up. Like before, the sensation that someone was watching me was back and strong. And I didn't like it.

I entered the building, raced up to my apartment, and locked the door, hoping whoever was outside would stay out.

# 16

I had been feeling off, like something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

As I was walking to campus for my two classes on Wednesday after lunch, I didn't feel like sitting through boring lectures. So, I called Theron, and he promptly came to pick me up for a training session with his grandmother.

"Take a deep breath," Sheila instructed, "and send your senses out."

I complied. The first thing I felt was the warm grass under my crossed legs. Why did it have to be so hot this afternoon, and why did we have to practice outside? It was so cool inside the house and—

"Focus," she chided.

If my eyes were open, I would have rolled them at her. But I focused and forgot about the feel of the grass on my legs. I focused on the feel of its life. The grass pulsed with life, and my senses felt it as far as the ranch went, spreading for miles and miles.

"Further," Sheila added.

"I can't go further. I don't know how."

"Just let it happen. Feel each inch of the earth, of the air. Grab for it, pull it, reach for the rest."

I gritted my teeth and pushed my senses out. Slowly, they reached farther and farther, inch by inch. I pushed it out and felt the life within the ground past the ranch. Into the road, into the neighbors' lands, into the far interstate.

"Good. Now come back and focus on the feelings of the things or people you encounter."

Trees and little animals, like squirrels and birds, were the first I made contact with. Nothing much to report there, other than the life and energy running through them. Pulling my senses a little, I felt a couple parked beside a road. I couldn't make out shapes, colors, or faces. I just sensed them there. I felt the anger coming from the energy of their bodies.

"They seem to be arguing," Sheila explained. Damn, how could the woman know that much? "Focus," she chided, and I willed my mind to go back to the couple.

Anger was the only thing I sensed around them. Nothing more. I couldn't know what they were saying, if they were saying anything, let alone know if they were arguing.

Irritated, I moved on and found a deer and a few rabbits. I didn't bother reading their feelings. I didn't think there was anything they could think that would interest me.

Sheila's exasperated sigh reached my ears, and I continued.

Next, I sensed another car and its occupants moving up the road, away from the ranch. My mind was failing or I was too tired, because I tried reading their feelings, getting hold of their life energy, but I couldn't.

"Tziganes are trained to protect their mind and body," Sheila explained. "Cora, Rye, and Bryna are taking the kids out."

My eyes shot open. "Isn't that dangerous? To take the kids out? What if alchemists find them?"

A warm but faint smile appeared on Sheila's strong features. "We can't live in hiding, not all the time. We go out and take the kids out sometimes. We can't let the alchemists win. If we hide, it'll be like letting the bad guys out and we move into prisons."

"But what if they are attacked?"

She knelt before me. "Cora, Rye, and Bryna have acute powers, and they can sense if danger is upon them. Moreover, the kids know what they have to do in case of an attack. We've trained them."

"That's ..."

"Normal for us. If we don't teach them how to defend themselves, who will? Yes, they are young, but it's necessary."

No argument there. I understood where she was coming from, but imagining little kids fighting or running from alchemists sent a chill up my spine. I really hoped they didn't encounter any problems during their outing.

"What now, Mirella?" Sheila's smile widened. "Are you worried about the tziganes? I thought you didn't care much for our kind."

A sudden warmth took over my cheeks. "That's not it." What could I say to her? Perhaps I shouldn't say anything.

"Don't worry." She patted my hand. "I thought a lot about you after your first visit. I understand." She gestured around us, to the house and stables and the lush lawn. But she didn't mean the land. She meant the way of living, the tradition. "It is a little overwhelming since you only found out about your heritage a few weeks ago. And that's the most valid reason for why you need to practice and learn to protect yourself. You're out there, unprotected. An easy target, and our enemies do seem to like you."

"Yes, they do," I agreed in a low, sad tone.

"Now, back to practicing."

"Right." I closed my eyes and focused on where I had left off. The car with Cora, Shay, Bryna, and the kids was already out of my reach. Since I was supposed to come all the way back, I pulled my senses closer.

Nothing interesting came out of the ranch's limits. I wasn't going to sweep around the ranch, since I would only find tziganes who wouldn't let me spy on their feelings, but something nagged inside of me, telling me that Sheila would tap dance over my head if I didn't, so I sent my senses around the property.

And my heart stopped when I sensed something ... impossible.

I shot up, startling Sheila. "What? Did you sense something?" she asked.

"Didn't you?" I asked. She had been with me all this time. How could she have missed it?

Fueled by my newfound curiosity and the immense power, I ran to it, past the barn on the right side of the house.

I halted for a moment on the top of a small hill.

Stone stairs led down, like an ancient Greek theater, and in the middle, instead of an orchestra, there was a huge fenced garden with many twisted tree trunks, rocks, creepers, and a few flowers, almost as dense as the Amazon Rainforest. Why was such a beautiful garden behind thick iron bars?

I approached the cage and reached up to shake the bars, to check if they were real or if I was dreaming.

That was when a huge cat jumped down from among the leaves and sprawled beside the bars, causing me to yelp and retreat a few steps with my thrumming heart in my hands.

My mouth hung open.

A white lion. A huge white lion, with skin that shimmered every time he moved, and bright blue eyes that stared straight at me. I had never seen or heard of a white lion.

Frozen in place, I swallowed my fear, afraid he could smell it.

A deep snarl rumbled in the lion's throat, and he closed his eyes. He seemed so ... intelligent. Then it brushed against my skin and I gasped. His senses, his power. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his magical touch, I closed my eyes and let him in.

A jumble of lights exploded in my mind, swirling around my senses, making me dizzy. It slowed down and revolved together, forming an image. The cat and I, exactly where we were, but without the bars.

I opened my eyes when I withdrew my sense, feeling suddenly so small and weak. But he had left his mark, and told me his name.

Felix.

I bit my lip and tried to turn the tables. I let my senses loose and pressed them against him. I found his mind open to mine.

_Felix._ He dipped his big head down once, as if nodding, and my heart raced. He had understood me! _If I come closer, will you behave?_

Again, the lion nodded, and then lay his head over his paws close to the bars as if waiting to be petted. I couldn't help but smile.

Unafraid, I leaned against the bars and extended my hand to pet him. Oh shit, his mane was softer than silk. Like a dog, Felix tilted his head up and I understood. I scratched behind his ears. Felix purred and I giggled, not believing what was happening here.

_You're a beauty._ The lion tilted his head and licked my hand, his tongue searing hot and downy like velvet.

His mind merged with mine once more, and he showed me how he ended up in that cage.

After days of running from men in black masks, Felix and his partner found other animals trying to hide. They all found a small valley deep in the forest and lay down to rest for a few hours. A couple of hours later, they were awoken by banging and shouting. A fight ensued around them. Alchemists against tziganes. Felix and the other animals joined in the fight, but the hunters were too fast, too strong, and they cheated. They used magic that wasn't theirs. They killed his mate and were about to kill him. Then Cora was right there, helping him. The animals, the tziganes, and the alchemists fought some more. In the end, the alchemists fell and only half of the animals had survived. The tziganes started rounding up the animals, taking them into the back of a big truck, where they were placed into cages.

Felix closed his eyes and I saw something in his mind.

Me.

Simple. My smiling face in his mind.

Because of that, he surprised the tziganes by not needing to be escorted inside the truck. Even though he didn't fully trust people, he entered the truck of his own free will.

Because he knew they would eventually lead him to me.

The images shifted. Then Felix was on the back of the same truck, and besides Cora and Rye standing just outside the open doors, Theron was there. They were arguing. Not long after, Theron approached him, promising Felix everything would be all right, that they would protect him. He was there, wasn't he? Felix wasn't going anywhere. Even so, Theron injected a sedative into his bloodstream. A few seconds later, Felix blacked out. When he woke up, he was in this cage.

I stared at him. _You don't trust them._ He growled in response. _I know how you feel. I don't fully trust them either._ His blue eyes pierced mine and a shiver of power filled my chest. He trusted me. He had seen __ me. Why?

Before I could reach into Felix's mind and find the answer, I heard a gasp.

"Saint Sara-la-Kali," Sheila whispered as a prayer. She gaped at my hand over Felix's fur. "You sensed him?"

"Yes. Wasn't I supposed to?"

"No, you weren't. He keeps himself shielded from everything. From anyone."

Theron came running down the stairs. "What happened? I saw you two running and ..." His eyes found Felix and me. "By Saint Sara-la-Kali. How are you doing that?"

"What?"

"Touching him," Theron answered. "He doesn't let anyone get close. Trying to feed him is hell on Earth."

"She said she felt him," Sheila told him.

"What? Impossible." Theron snickered. "The cat doesn't open up to anyone."

"Felix," I said.

"What?" Theron asked, a knot over his eyes.

"That's his name. Felix."

"How do you know?" Sheila asked, coming closer.

Felix growled and I patted him, urging him to calm down. "He told me." Their eyes widened, and I thought Sheila would faint. While I had the advantage of their stunned silence, I decided to continue, "He showed me how Cora got him, and how you helped her and Rye bring him here. He came here by choice, but you sedated him. He didn't like that."

"Oh my." Sheila rested her hand over her heart and leaned against her grandson.

"I had to," Theron said sheepishly. "He wouldn't stay with the others, so to bring him here, I had to sedate him. I couldn't let him go. Here we can protect him. Out there—" He pointed past us, to where the nearest border fence was. "He's like us, something the alchemists want. His blood and his heart are more powerful than ours. And his fur too.

"No, you didn't need to," I said. "He would have come."

Theron's shoulders sagged a little. "I didn't know that."

Sedating the cat hadn't been nice, but I certainly agreed he was better protected in here.

_They only want what is best for you._ For some reason, I felt a strong connection with the cat. _I want what is best for you too. I won't let them hurt you._

"I can... I can feel you talking to the cat," Sheila whispered. She was still in shock.

"And?"

"That's never happened before," Theron explained.

"Your powers must be strong," Sheila added.

"Or Felix just likes me." To prove my point, Felix licked my hand again.

The gleam in Sheila's eyes gave me goose bumps. "Could be."

Uncomfortable with such attention, I scanned the area and found Ramon watching from up the hill. His eyes met mine and he left, his expression unreadable, but definitely hard.

Felix purred, and I gave my attention back to him. In a flash, the cat opened his huge mouth and closed it around my forearm. Sheila yelped and Theron ran over to me. But I only laughed. Felix teeth barely grazed my skin as he tugged me closer and played with my hand.

Theron tsked, his eyes shining with fascination over the scene. "Now, that's something you don't see every day."

# 17

There was nothing special about me. To Sheila's dismay, I wasn't as powerful as she thought I was. I stayed with Felix for a while, and then she urged me to go back to training. After a few failed exercises, it was crystal clear. Apparently, Felix had chosen me to be his friend—just that.

"I don't understand," Sheila whispered somewhere around me.

Seated on the grass with my eyes closed, I wasn't allowed to sense any nearby presences for this exercise. But I was also failing at it.

"What, _puri daj_?" Theron asked, somewhere to my right. I hadn't sensed him, but I could hear from where his strong voice was coming.

"Mirella talked to the cat," Sheila continued. "He wouldn't choose a weak tzigane, or even a regular one, to talk to."

Sighing, I opened my eyes. "I'm not as strong as you first thought. To be honest, I think I'm much weaker than all of you."

Sheila halted before me. "You're supposed to be meditating with your eyes closed."

"We're talking, not practicing."

Her lips pursed in a tight line. "Fine. Now tell me why you think you're weaker than us?"

I glanced at the grass under me and brushed my fingertips on a green, sharp blade. "I don't know. I just feel like it."

Her voice softened as she said, "Explain to me what you feel. It would help us understand your limitations."

I stood and wiped the loose grass from my butt. "I'm weaker than a regular tzigane. Perhaps it has something to do with my bloodline. Perhaps my mother isn't a strong tzigane, and my father, whoever he was, was even worse?" I shrugged.

"It's a possibility," Sheila whispered. The way she spoke, with her mind elsewhere and glassy eyes, raised goose bumps on my arms. "Still, the cat's willingness to open up to you. That's strange."

As if being a tzigane wasn't strange.

At least she dropped the subject and gave up practicing for the day. We agreed to meet again on Sunday.

On the way home, Theron whistled and bumped the wheel along with the reggaeton playing through the radio of his open-top Jeep without talking to me. Not even a single word. Nothing. Not even a quick glance.

What was up with him? Was he hiding something too? Did he know something I didn't?

It didn't matter. I wasn't curious. Or so I told myself. But I shouldn't be. I wasn't learning more about my powers so I could become a tzigane. I was learning so I could use them to defend myself should the need arise. That was all.

Theron parked his Jeep in front of my building then promptly twisted around in his seat, looking around. Even up to the trees lining the parking lot.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for Artan," he said, a teasing tone in his voice. "He's always here, and I enjoy arguing with him."

"Enjoy?"

He turned a lopsided grin to me. "Yeah, it's like being a warrior and like fighting, you know. Not that violence is a good thing. I just mean enjoying when you can beat the crap out of your opponent and you're winning the fight. Just like that."

I shook my head. "You're crazy."

He shrugged. "If you say so."

Theron was... fun. Spending time with him was freeing. I barely knew him, and yet I felt like I could relax and be myself, without any fear of judgment or being misinterpreted. I felt like we could talk about anything.

"Hmm... Theron, I have a question."

He twisted in his seat, facing me. "Shoot."

"Do you know the Romani who go on Sundays to the Southend neighborhood?" He nodded. "Are they regular Romani?"

He nodded again. "Yeah. They are the real Romani, you know, because their kind came before ours. But yeah, they are the real thing. They live in caravans just outside of town, moving around from town to town, but never going too far away. Then they come back."

"So... they are regular Romani, no powers?"

"Their sixth sense is much more acute than _gadjos'_ , and a rare few have some abilities like communicating telepathically or foreseeing the future."

"So their palm readings and fortune telling...?"

He tilted his head at me, visibly curious. "I bet they say pretty things to enchant their clientele, but yes, I think some of them are being truthful." I sucked in a sharp breath. Crap. "Why?"

Should I tell him what that Romani woman said? _Death is coming for you_. If I told him, there was a high probability that he and the other warriors from Bellville would check on me more often. In turn, that would make Artan curious about why Bellville was so interested in me, and he and his band of warriors would start popping up more and more.

No, thanks.

"It's nothing... I had to go there last month to buy new pointe shoes, and I saw them offering palm readings to everyone who walked by, and my curiosity was piqued. That was it."

Theron didn't look convinced, but he didn't push it either, and for that I was thankful. "Any more questions?" he teased.

I shook my head. "Nope."

He leaned across the middle of the car and nudged me with his elbow. "Then get out of here. It's late and I know you have ballet classes tomorrow morning."

It was still shocking that he—and Artan—knew my schedule by heart.

Smiling at him, I opened the Jeep's door. "See you Sunday."

"How about this one?" I pressed play on a silly song. I shook my arms and legs, making faces as if I couldn't control my body. The little girls laughed and joined me, dancing silly too. All of them, except for Annie, who had stared at me with huge eyes during the entire class and had barely participated.

Less than two minutes later, the song ended.

"Again! Again!" they shouted.

"We don't have time." I pointed to the clock above the door. "It's time to go."

"Nooooo..." they said in unison.

It warmed my heart to see them happy during my class. I promised them that we would dance silly longer in our next class, then ushered them out of the classroom, to their waiting parents. I glanced out the door and didn't see Phillip waiting for Annie. Sometimes, because of work, he was a few minutes late. Which was fine. I just had to keep her with me.

I turned to let Annie know she got to stay with me for a while longer, and I stumbled back with the force of her impact against me. She hugged my legs tight, and rested her cheek on my stomach.

"What happened, sweet bun?" I asked, disentangling her hold from my legs so I could kneel in front of her. Her blue eyes were filled with tears. "Oh, Annie." I pulled her to me and embraced her. "Want to tell me what happened?"

She sobbed. "You're leaving."

I stiffened. That again. I ran a hand down her back, soothing. "Sweet bun, I'm not leaving. I don't plan on going away. I'll stay right here and teach dance for a long time. Okay?"

She shook her head, her nose rubbing against my neck. "You won't. I know you won't. You're leaving."

That was just crazy.

I pulled back to look into her eyes and ask her more about it when Phillip burst into the classroom.

"Hi," he said, breathless. He put a hand on his chest, catching his breath. "I ran here. Sorry, I'm late." A frowned marred his brow as he took in his daughter crying. "Sweetheart," he whispered. He approached us and picked her up in his arms. She wound her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder. "We talked about this, Annie. It's just a nightmare. Please don't bother Miss Reyes with it, okay?"

She lifted her head to look at him. "But—"

"No buts." His tone was firm, but full of concern. My heart squeezed. He set her down. "Now go grab your bag and put on your shoes."

With trembling lips, Annie stomped her feet to the cubbies and benches along the hallway, where students left their shoes and bags.

I stood. "Is she okay?"

He turned to me. "She has been acting normal. A little shy but happy. But..." He ran a hand through his hair. "She has been waking up early in the morning yelling that you're leaving. I think it's a recurring nightmare. I tried talking to her, explaining to her it's just a dream and she shouldn't worry..." He glanced to the door. "I don't know. Maybe I should talk to the therapist at her school, see if it's some other unseen problem that has arisen."

I reached for him and took his hand in mine. "Hey." He turned his blue eyes to me. "I'm here for you two, you know that, right? If you need help with her, let me know."

He smiled at me. "Thank you." He leaned toward me then paused. "Am I allowed to kiss you here?"

I smiled. "Probably not." But I grabbed the collar of his shirt anyway and tugged him to me. Just a brush of my lips on his, and that seemed to be enough. Enough to awaken the desire I felt for him and wish for more. More time, more privacy, just _more_.

His gaze slid down my throat. He lifted his hand and brushed his fingertip over the necklace he had given me. "I like seeing you wearing it." His fingers traced the thin chain up my neck, his skin grazing mine.

I shivered. "I never take it off."

"Good." He leaned into me and placed a quick peck over my lips. Then he pulled away and straightened. "I should take her home."

"Right."

He turned to leave, then halted and faced me again. "Oh... I hate to do this, but I'm going on a business trip again tomorrow."

"What?"

He pressed his lips tight. "Sorry. There are certain things in my line of work that I can't control, and meeting with clients when they want is one of them. I should be back Sunday afternoon. I'll call you, okay?"

My shoulders sagged. "Okay."

From the classroom's door, I watched as Phillip picked up a sad Annie, and after another wave of his hand, they left.

I sighed, a little disappointed with Phillip and his work schedule, but also a little worried about Annie. Recurring nightmares about me leaving? That I was leaving the studio? The town? This world?

I wondered if _gadjos_ could have an acute sixth sense, and I made a mental note to ask Sheila about it. Because... if Annie really did have an acute sixth sense, what did it mean? Shit, was Annie telling me I was going to die?

The doorbell rang and I thought about ignoring it.

Who the hell could it be on a Saturday afternoon? By now, my mother had her own keys. Ellie was still avoiding me, and Phillip was out of town. The only other people I could think of were Artan and Theron, but both of them would linger outside instead of knocking on my door.

Unless there was something wrong.

The doorbell rang again.

Groaning, I dragged my feet to the door.

Darcy and Oscar stood in the hallway.

"Hello, dear," the old hag said with a rehearsed smile. Like before, she wore a long dress as if she was about to start dancing flamenco at any moment, and too much jewelry.

From beside his mother, Oscar placed a fist over his heart and bowed. "Good morning, Mirella." His tone as serious and cold as the first time I had seen him.

"Won't you invite us inside, dear?" Darcy asked.

Grunting, I stepped back and let them in my apartment.

Oscar closed the door behind them, and then the three of us stood in the middle of my tiny living room, sizing each other up.

I crossed my arms. "What are you doing here?"

Both of them exchanged a brief glance.

Then Darcy turned her eyes back to me. "We have much to talk about, child, and we would love if you came to the enclave with us. We can talk while we show you around."

I shook my head. "I'm not sure..."

"I know you must feel cornered right now," Oscar said. "But we don't want you to feel intimidated."

"Is this because I went to Bellville? Seriously, this rift between your two enclaves drives me crazy." And the fact that nobody bothered to explain it to me was even crazier. "I won't let you all push and pull me."

"I understand that." Darcy stepped toward me. "But I think it's only fair if you give us a chance. _One_ chance. Just come with us and see how Lovell is with your own eyes."

I stared at her, hating the guilt she made me feel. "I don't know..."

"I think I can change your mind." She outstretched her hands to me. "May I?"

A crease deepened between my brows. I unknotted my arms and placed my hands on hers. "What now?"

"Now, you'll close your eyes and use your sixth sense to feel me."

My curiosity won over and I closed my eyes. "Say what?"

"Haven't you done this before? Take the walls out of your mind and feel your surroundings."

I had done this before, I just didn't feel comfortable doing this to Darcy. But...

I did as I was told. I let the walls around my mind crumble away and reached out to the world around me. The beams of colors swam around me. They formed patterns I didn't understand. Then they all moved closer, squeezing into each other, and became one thick beam radiating white light. The beam's form changed and became the figure of a lady. An old lady. The old hag.

I could see the outlines that composed Darcy. Her long hair, her most notable wrinkles, her wide, knowing smile. Here, she was pure light, pure energy. Simply pure.

I shot my eyes open and pulled my hands back, still not understanding what I was supposed to know. "That was..."

"Power. Our power. You saw how your senses were attracted by my power. They came to me, they rested on me, and you saw me with your eyes closed." She twisted her hand, like a flamenco dancer, and I felt a sudden and strong shock rippling from my head to my toe. I froze. "You have that same pure power inside you. Now, you just need to learn how to use it properly."

Properly...

Intrigue and curiosity gnawed in my stomach. I bit my lower lip. Of course, it sounded awesome, to have powers, but how did I know this was true? How did I know I could trust her? Why would I train with her when I could train with Sheila?

How did I know I wasn't insane, and we were all a group of insane people who thought they had powers?

"Your disbelief is staggering." Darcy let out a small chuckle. "But I understand your frustration. You never heard of any of us before and here we are. Asking you to trust us."

I didn't want to trust her, but I had seen her. My senses told me she was made of pure light. Pure goodness.

"If... if I go with you, what will happen?"

"We'll show you around our enclave," Oscar said. "We'll try to explain to you all we can. We'll answer all your questions, and when you want to come home, we'll bring you home." He placed his fist over his heart again. "That is a promise."

I opened up my senses to him too. Although with Darcy the experience had been more intense because she had poured her powers into me, I still could feel Oscar's senses. And right now it all rang true.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll go with you."

# 18

"Give me a couple of minutes to get my things, and I'll meet you outside," I said before closing the door in Darcy's and Oscar's faces.

That was probably rude, but I wasn't worried. I just didn't want them free around my apartment while I was inside my bedroom.

I picked up my phone and shot my mother a text.

Me: _Darcy and Oscar are here. But you probably knew that._

I changed my tank top for a short, loose dress, put on flat sandals, and put my bag across my shoulders. Something was missing. I picked up a dark green shawl with lots of fringe and wrapped it around my shoulders. Now, I liked that.

I was brushing my hair when a text came through.

Mom: _Yes, I told them you've been going to Bellville. They are worried about your safety. As I am._

Me: _I'm fine._

I applied lip gloss and decided to tell her more.

Me: _I'm going to their enclave._

My phone rang, the word "mom" flashing on the screen.

"What is it?" I answered.

"This is big, Mirella," she said, her voice in a revered tone. "Think of them like royalty when dealing with them. I know I was banished, but they are good and true. Respect them, even when you don't want to."

"Speaking of which, aren't you worried they will tell me about your banishment." Silence. "Do you want to tell me your version before they do?"

"They won't say anything."

"Well, they can join your club." She went quiet. "Mom?"

"Can we talk about this when we're face-to-face?"

I sighed. "I guess..."

"Call me when you're back. I want to know how it went."

Why? Did she think that after all the lies, I owed her something? She was mistaken. "Later."

I turned off the call.

After one last glance at the mirror, I left my apartment. The closer I got to the outside, the tenser I felt. What if these people were crazy? Well, maybe they were crazy like I had always thought my mother was, but she wouldn't let me go with them without a warning, other than to respect them, if they were bad people, right?

Closing my hand tight around the strap of my bag, I climbed down the stairs and exited my building.

Artan and another young man, one I had seen before, stood in front of the blue SUV.

Artan tilted his head. "You remember Sloan."

"Y-yes," I said, recalling him from the club, and during the first attack in the parking garage.

Artan alone was intimidating. But the two warriors side by side? They emanated power and control and seemed as stoic as marble statues.

"He's my cousin," Artan said.

Sloan grinned at me, like a cat ready to pounce. "Hi there." He was a couple of inches shorter than his cousin, but a little bit wider. What did these guys eat? Or was it all just a lot of training?

"Hey," I said, my voice low.

The dark back window from the SUV lowered. Darcy peeked out. "We should go."

Artan nodded to her. "Of course, _puri daj_."

Sloan gestured to the car. "Come on, Mirella. I'll show you to your seat."

Swallowing hard, I followed Sloan and Artan to the other side of the SUV. Sloan hopped in first and went directly to the third row. He patted the seat in front of him. Right beside Darcy.

She smiled at me as I slid in. While I put on my seat belt, Artan took the driver's seat. His father was in the passenger seat in front.

"Everyone ready?" Artan asked.

Once more, wariness at being surrounded by strangers hit me. I had done something similar before. I had gone to Bellville with strangers, and now they weren't strangers anymore. In fact, I would like to think that at least Theron and Sheila were my friends now. The only ones I was allowed to have. And, to be honest, Artan wasn't really a stranger. Not anymore.

"Yes, we're ready," Darcy answered.

Artan took the SUV out of my building's parking lot and onto the road.

Outside the SUV, the sun shone high and a few clouds dotted the blue sky. It seemed like a pleasant summer day. However, inside the SUV, the ride to the enclave was quiet and tense.

Everyone seemed lost in thought. Darcy looked out the window as if the interstate was an interesting view. At that moment, Sloan peeked his head between the seats and glanced at me.

"So, how is being a tzigane so far?"

I snorted. "Confusing."

He nodded. "I bet it's strange, huh? I can't imagine not knowing we're different, special, that we have powers... I can't imagine not living by our traditions."

Traditions. I glanced from Sloan to Artan—or the back of his head. Tziganes got married early. Artan and Sloan were probably twenty-five... they both were probably married by now.

For some reason, that idea didn't sit well with me.

"Well, right now I can't imagine living by _your_ traditions."

" _Our_ traditions," Darcy corrected me.

Why did everyone feel the need to hear me say _our_? I didn't want to be a part of their enclave. They were crazy if they thought taking me to see their place would change my mind. It hadn't worked with Bellville and wouldn't work now, either.

Sloan patted the back of my seat. "Don't worry. You'll love Lovell."

Couldn't we all be just good acquaintances and leave it at that? I shook my head and glanced out the window.

"I'm probably going crazy," I muttered.

"The entire world is crazy, child," Darcy said. "We just have to decide which crazy side we'll stand with."

I gulped. Was she talking about me? Asking me which side I would choose? Lovell or Bellville? Gah, when wouldn't someone ask me about that? Couldn't I choose a third one? A neutral one?

All I wanted was to go back to the time when I didn't know anything, when I was a _gadjo_ , ignorant that I was more than a simple Romani woman.

Thirty minutes later, Artan made a right off the interstate and kept driving down a narrow road for another ten minutes. Then he slowed down and stopped the car before what seemed like the side of a rocky mound.

Artan twisted back in his seat and looked at me. "Welcome to Lovell."

He was joking, right?

"We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Pay attention," Darcy whispered.

I glanced outside, but there was nothing there other than a rocky mound ahead of us and some tall, old trees flanking and shadowing it.

My jaw dropped when six men jumped down from nowhere and landed before the SUV, dressed in dark brown suede pants and vests, swords in their hands, bows on their back, and deadly stares.

The warriors formed a line in front of the rocky wall and waited, swords in hands.

Artan got out of the SUV and halted among them. The warriors bowed to Artan, positioning their swords across their upper body, then stepped aside, forming a corridor through which Artan walked, going toward the mound wall.

"What is he doing?" I asked.

"Keep looking," Darcy said, her eyes on her grandson, a faint smile on her lips.

I kept looking and again my mouth fell open when Artan touched the wall with his right hand and a red light shone through his palm. The ground trembled, shaking the SUV with it, and the rock wall opened in the middle and retreated to the sides, rock dust falling from it, revealing a bridge.

"That isn't necessary to enter the enclave," Sloan said from behind me. "But he wanted to put on a show today."

Artan came back to the SUV and drove past the warriors and the entrance, and over the bridge. It was made of rust-colored stones, wide enough for two cars. Small gray parallelepipeds formed the pavement. Under it, I could see a shallow stream and lots of green.

The curve of the bridge hit its apex, and I finally could see what was on the other side. A village. With lots of narrow, two-story, orange-colored houses, steep brownish roof tiles, archways of varying sizes, narrow pathways leading up and down composed of colored stones, brick steps here and there, and many, many flowers and plants and shrubs of all colors and sizes possible. Just like a traditional Spanish village.

Artan drove the SUV to the left and parked it in what seemed to be the community parking garage. It was four stories high with orange stone walls like the rest of the village, and many vehicles—trucks, vans, SUVs, sedans, coupes—packed the place.

Another group of warriors approached as we got out of the SUV. Oscar, Artan, and Sloan left with them, and Darcy took me to the main house, which was located between the bridge and the parking garage.

"This is the entrance point for visiting enclaves or strangers," Darcy said, opening her arms wide across the room. "We come here to receive them."

The main house was much like a clubhouse of an apartment subdivision. A large living room, a small open plan kitchen, a fireplace, and a back porch with a privileged view of the rest of the village, all decorated with rustic wooden furniture, colorful fabrics, tapestries, clay bowls and plates.

"Hmm, okay..." I said, not understanding why she was showing me this.

As if reading my mind, she said, "I promised I would show you everything." Then she snatched my wrist and pulled me to the back porch. "Let's go."

The old hag guided me through a narrow, deserted street. The strong scent of sweet, wild flowers hovered in the air.

We crossed a tall archway and stood in a large square. Colorful pavement, wooden benches, pergolas, a large stone fountain in the center, a few ornamental wagons spread throughout. Some houses and buildings faced the square, colored fabric covering their decorated terraces, creeper dangling from the rails.

Kids ran around and played with a soccer ball, dolls, bubbles, and balloons. Men stood beside the fountain, playing flamenco songs with guitar and harmonica, talking, and playing cards. Women sat together on benches, knitting, gossiping, laughing, dancing. They struck me as sensual and strong women, and their colorful dresses and skirts, bright jewelry, high-heeled boots, and makeup made me conscious of my simple dress and sandals. I had only a pair of earrings, Phillip's necklace, a couple of bracelets, one ring, and a light lipgloss. These women were gorgeous, and I felt like a nobody stuck somewhere I shouldn't be.

I was about to bolt to the main house and hide when some people noticed my presence, and in a matter of seconds, everyone went quiet. The men stopped playing, the women stopped dancing, and the kids stopped running. Every set of eyes fell on me.

Shit. The heat of embarrassment crept up my cheeks, and I tugged on my shawl, as if it could cover all of me.

"Be strong," Darcy whispered. "They're just curious. After all, you're the reason they are under curfew."

"Curfew?"

"Yes. With more alchemists loose in town, we established a curfew so our tziganes won't stay outside our walls for long."

Then two men came into the square pushing a heavy and elaborate wooden wagon.

"What's that wagon for?"

"Vurdon," Darcy said, her sight on the wagon.

"Say what?"

"We call it vurdon. Wagon is a _gadjo_ word."

And I learned something new every day. I felt stupid and out of place. This enclave was beautiful and alive, bigger than Bellville, with a different kind of energy, but I felt like an outsider. At least in Bellville, I felt like I belonged among so many misfits.

A girl stepped out of the group of women gathering and strolled toward Darcy and me. It took me a couple of seconds to recognize her. It was Ryane, Artan's sister.

" _Sastimos, puri daj_ ," she said upon meeting her grandmother. She bowed and Darcy kissed her forehead. Was I the only one who had no idea what Ryane had said? She pivoted to me, elegant like a ballet dancer. "Hello, Mirella, it's nice to finally meet you."

"Hi," I said, with a brusque wave of my hand.

Darcy caught her granddaughter's hands. "Ryane, I would like you to stay with Mirella while I go check on the event details."

"Of course," she said.

Before I knew it, Darcy was gone and I was left with Ryane in a square full of strangers who looked at me as if I were some sort of bug under a microscope.

Ryane linked her arm to mine. "Don't worry. They're just curious."

"That's what your grandmother said."

She smiled down at me. Damn, she was almost as tall as her brother. "She's wise." Her voice resonated with pride. "Come." She tugged my arm and pulled me into the crowd. "I'll show you around."

# 19

It was hard to ignore the stares as Ryane and I strolled around the square, painfully slow.

"Your grandmother said something about an event?" I asked, my voice low. When I was being brought here, nobody had mentioned an event.

"Oh yes, it's just a small gathering." She smiled at me. "We always have a feast when guests come to visit us."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Are you telling me there's a celebration for me?"

"Don't think you're that special," she said in a singsong voice, and for some reason, I didn't believe her words. "We do this for all our guests."

She tugged on my arm, pulling me forward, making me walk again, and she started on my tour.

She showed me the two-story orange building where the rom baro's office and elders' council was located. Then there was the library, the dance studio—the second one caught my attention, but Ryane didn't stop long enough for me to examine it closer. And, right beside it all was the school, a similar building to all the others but the tallest with three floors.

Though I had never asked Sheila about it, I knew the kids were home-schooled in Bellville. "It's forbidden for the kids to study at a regular school?"

"This is our __ regular __ school." Ryane gestured to the building we walked by. "It isn't forbidden, but discouraged. Kids and teenagers go to school here, inside the enclave. It's safer this way."

"So... no one goes out to study?"

"When necessary, to learn a new trade or bring in a new skill we need, then someone will go to college. Usually, a warrior is chosen since he's the best candidate to defend himself out there."

There were still so many things I didn't know about this culture; it all made my head spin.

"And there—" She pointed to a long path, winding down a hill. "—are the training grounds. Besides individual homes, I showed you all the different buildings and services."

Meanwhile, the square had filled up some more.

As if they had done it a thousand times, the men and women, young and old, worked to bring the place alive. Colorful fabrics were stretched from wooden pillars strategically located around the square, creating open-side tents. Lanterns were hung from the fabric. Men brought out long tables and chairs and benches, and women brought big trays with food and drinks.

Ryane followed my line of sight and smiled at me. "It's almost ready."

"Hi there." A young man appeared in front of us. He smiled at me, his dark brown eyes shining. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Stefano Pena." He placed his fist over his heart and bowed to me.

I glanced at Ryane and she rolled her eyes.

"Just ignore him," she whispered.

He then reached for my hand. "It's so nice to meet you." He leaned down and placed a kiss on the back of my hand.

I pulled my hand away. "Hmm, I'm Mir—"

"Mirella Reyes, yes, I know."

"Oh-kay. It's nice to meet you, too."

I squeezed Ryane's arm, asking her to save me. I hoped she got my message. This guy couldn't be older than seventeen, and he was looking at me as if he wanted to jump at me.

"I heard you're new to the tzigane world." He stepped closer, towering over me. He was tall, but he wasn't built, not like the other men around here. Not like Sloan and Artan were. "So... that means you're not promised to anyone yet." He arched his brow to me.

"Oh, Stefano," Ryane finally said. "She just arrived. Don't scare her away."

"But I can't help it." He opened his arms wide. Too much flair for such a young guy. "The moment you walked into the square, my heart knew... you're the one for me," he whispered.

I gaped at him. "Excuse me?"

He didn't seem a bit disappointed by my reaction. "I understand your surprise. This is all new to you. I'll let you get used to it, but remember, once you're more acquainted with our customs, I'll ask for your hand."

"Stefano, look, I think your mother is calling." Ryane pointed to somewhere among the crowd.

He glanced back, but didn't seem to find whomever Ryane had pointed to. "I'll find you in a little while." He winked at me, then marched into the crowd, looking for his mother, who was probably nowhere around the square.

"What was up with that?" I asked Ryane.

She chuckled. "That's Stefano. He just turned seventeen and he isn't promised yet, which is unusual for us."

"Why?"

She sighed. "His _puri daj_ , sister to mine, was the most important elder on the council. Until six months ago when she died of old age. She always said Stefano would marry someone special, and she convinced her daughter, his mother, of that. They haven't found someone special enough to marry him." She turned her hazel eyes to me. "Until now."

"That's crazy." She had to know that was crazy. One, I wasn't a tzigane, not really, not the way they were, with their entire hearts and souls. And I didn't want to be. I would never live by their customs and do whatever they said was right or wrong.

Two, he was younger than I was by three years. No way was I going to even think about dating a younger guy.

She chuckled some more. "Sorry I'm laughing. The terror on your face is comical." She sighed, letting the laughter die. "It isn't so simple. There are many rules and traditions to be followed before a person chooses another to marry. Don't worry. You're safe." She leaned closer and whispered, "For now." I gasped. She laughed some more. "Okay, I'm done now."

I shook my head at her. "What about you? Are you promised?"

Her eyes gleamed. "I am. His name is Tomas. He's a warrior here with Artan and Sloan. We've been promised since I was two years old. But I'm only nineteen now, so we have to wait until I'm twenty-one."

I lowered my voice. "Do you like him?"

Her smile was too sudden, too wide. "Of course I do."

It seemed odd for me, to be promised to someone you barely knew, to know who you were going to marry since you were a kid. What if the person was an absolute jerk? What if he was cold? Uncaring?

There were things about tzigane tradition that I would never understand.

A thought struck me. What about Sloan... and Artan? I opened my mouth to ask, but just as I did, I Ryane looked beyond my shoulder and nodded. Then returned her eyes to me. "Come on. We're ready."

Under the largest tent, three long tables formed a big U. Only the outer side had chairs. Darcy, Oscar, and some other older people I was quickly introduced to and had already forgotten their names, sat at the table in the middle, facing the empty center.

I was placed right between the old hag and her son.

Ryane, Artan, Sloan, and Stefano were seated at the table to our left. A young man I didn't know—I didn't know a lot of people here—sat beside Ryane. They talked among themselves and the way their bodies were turned to each other, I assumed he was Tomas, her fiancé. Artan was seated to her right, and Sloan to Artan's right. They were alone. No girls. Did that mean they weren't promised? I doubted that.

"Here." Darcy placed a big plateful of food in front of me. "I served a little of everything for you to try." She smiled at me. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," I muttered, glancing down at my plate.

Of course, Darcy had to explain some of it to me. Paprika stew—a little bowl with a reddish cream. Manriklo—a triangular flat bread with rosemary, dill, and bacon. Blini—a thin, sweet pancake. Galuski—small, round balls that looked like dumplings, and were seasoned with cinnamon and saffron.

The rest looked either delicious or completely foreign, and the mix of the strong scents was enough to hint at an oncoming headache.

I poked my finger through what looked like hummus. I sniffed it. Hmm, cinnamon and vanilla? I knew I would like this one. I licked my finger and almost moaned as the taste buds in my mouth exploded. Well, even if I didn't like the rest, I knew I would like this one, whatever it was. I dunked my finger in it and, closing my eyes, licked it once more.

I opened my eyes and found Artan, seated in his spot, staring at me. His Adam's apple bobbed. Heat spread through my cheeks. He averted his eyes, turning to talk to Sloan, and I shrank in my seat, suddenly embarrassed. What if other people had seen me licking glaze off my finger?

Shaking my head, I picked up a spoon and ate it properly.

The strum of chords rang loud through the tent, silencing everyone.

A group stood at the edge of the tent with a guitar, harmonica, accordion, and tambourine. A flamenco melody filled the place and a group of young men entered the tent, occupying the empty U space between the tables.

"I hope you enjoy this," Oscar said, his tone and face serious.

I nodded and returned my attention to the warriors.

The ten young men formed two lines facing each other. They were dressed in dark brown suede pants, long boots, a beige shirt, brown vest, and a thick sash on their waist. A long, slightly curved sword was tucked on their right side, and a short dagger on their left.

The song changed to a series of beats and, coming from the warriors, stomps. The crowd followed suit, clapping with the rhythm, while the warriors enacted a fight. First with punches and kicks and dodges and incredible jumps, next with their swords. The first clank of metal on metal so close to me made me jump, and I almost fell off my chair.

"It's safe, dear," Darcy whispered to me. "They know what they are doing."

Like a practiced dance, the warriors moved with ease from blow to blow. I hated to admit it, but it was thrilling to watch. And, as the sun set and the lanterns filled the place with a magical glow, I found myself entranced.

The warriors finished their demonstration with a deep bow to me. Feeling self-conscious from all the eyes on me, I just clapped and nodded my appreciation.

Next, a group of mixed genders and ages entered the set-up stage.

Ryane was in the middle of them. She stepped forward and curtsied to me. "We would like to show you a little about our abilities."

Then she waved her hand and the water inside the pitchers placed on top of the tables flew up in the air. I gasped, in awe, as long clear tendrils of water stretched around her. She played with it, making shapes and flinging it everywhere, but never letting go, not losing one drop or getting anything wet.

A big ball of water gathered at her joined palms. Then, in the blink of an eye, it stretched into a long line and froze over. Ryane closed her hand around the spike and, with a grunt, she spun around and let the spike fly.

A tall wall of rocks appeared on the back of the improvised stage. The spike hit it, breaking into millions of shards that melted into tiny drops of water on the floor.

A teenager, not older than fourteen, stepped forward. He moved his hands and the wall of rocks moved with him. Like Ryane had done with water, he played with the rocks and the earth.

Then came an even younger kid, a girl of seven or eight. She sent a strong wind my way, flinging my hair back as if I was being swept by a tornado. I gasped, then smiled at her.

Like something had pulled at me, I glanced at Artan. And he glanced at me. Air was his specialty. Why wasn't he demonstrating his power to me? And why hadn't he and Sloan joined the warriors?

One corner of his lip tugged up.

This time, I swallowed hard and forced my attention back to the young girl, who was floating around the air... like flying.

I gaped.

Next came a man who could read minds, then a young boy who could move objects with his thoughts, and a woman who could disappear into one corner of the room, and in the next instant, appear on the other side.

I frowned, thinking... I had been shown tziganes who could use earth, air, and water elements. "What about fire?" I asked Darcy in a low voice.

She turned to me, her expression suddenly gloomy. "Nobody can manipulate fire."

Why? I wanted to ask her, but she returned her attention to the demonstration and I did the same.

More tziganes and more abilities. I was in awe of all they could do.

Finally, a group of young women dressed in matching red dresses, black shoes, side braids adorned by red roses, and castanets in their hands, entered the stage. The musicians started playing a flamenco song and the women started dancing.

As I watched the graceful women move their arms and hips and stomp their feet along with the beats of the sensual song, my insides itched to dance with them.

The song ended with a long strum of the guitar and the women with their knees on the ground and hands up in the air.

We all clapped and cheered as they took a bow.

Then Oscar stood from his seat. "And now, the party starts."

The musicians began playing again.

The young dancers went around the room, pulling people from their seats and bringing them to the center of the tent. A young woman extended her hands to Sloan. Smiling at her, he slipped his hands into hers and let her guide him away.

Another young woman reached for Artan, but he shook his head, and she moved on to another person.

Then one of the girls was in front of me. "Come on."

I shook my head. "Oh, no..."

Darcy laughed. "Everyone has heard you're a dancer, Mirella. You better go." She pushed me from my chair while the girl clasped my hands and pulled me to her. I couldn't win this one.

I let the girl take me to the middle of the tent, but I barely moved while she whirled around me. Ryane and Tomas appeared by my side.

With a smile, Ryane bumped her hips on mine. "Come on, Mirella. We want to see your moves."

I wasn't shy naturally, only when put in the spotlight, and I had never been shy when dancing—not for recitals or competitions. But right now? Right now I felt like all eyes were on me, not just from curiosity, but to observe, to judge. I couldn't bring myself to let go of my insecurity and dance.

So I only swayed side to side with Clarita, the girl who had picked me to dance. Soon the four of us were joined by Stefano, who kept smiling too broadly at me, Sloan, and the girl who had taken him to dance—who, from the way they looked at each other, I was starting to think was his fiancée.

My head snapped to the side. Artan was still in the same spot as before, though he wasn't seated anymore. He was standing, talking to two other warriors. Where was his fiancée? Or... was he old enough that he was already married? If so... where was his wife?

As if sensing me, Artan turned his gaze to me. He locked his eyes on mine. Heat spread through my cheeks. He had seen me dancing for real before. More heat warmed my face.

I averted my gaze.

After a while, I went back to the table to drink some water and found Darcy's eyes on me. Oscar had moved and was now standing at the corner of the tent with other older men.

"Sit down." The old hag's tone was serious.

Frowning, I took the seat beside her again. "Is there a problem?"

She glanced out to the crowd dancing in front of us. "Your mother was banished because she was promised to a tzigane and got pregnant by a _gadjo_."

I gasped. No, I wasn't supposed to hear this. Not yet. My mother assured me they wouldn't tell me about it. That she would.

"Are... are you saying my father is a _gadjo_?"

Darcy turned cold, brown eyes at me. "Yes. Your mother disgraced us. Not only by forfeiting her betrothal, but also by doing so with a _gadjo_."

I didn't know what to say.

Other than... "I'm only half tzigane."

"Yes. And I can't explain why I feel your senses, your power so strong. Having only half of our blood, and without nurture, your powers should be weak."

"They are weak," I said. "I know everybody keeps saying my powers are strong, but they aren't." My cheeks heated, because I felt awkward talking about it with Darcy. "I've trained with Sheila and I'm hopeless."

Darcy's brows creased. "About that... I would like you to come train with me instead."

"I—"

"I shouldn't have to, but I'll point out why. One, this was your mother's enclave, and thus your enclave. Yes, your mother was banished, but we would be willing to take you, to train you, and to involve you in our community."

"But not my mother?"

She shook her head once. "That would be complicated. I won't say never, but right now, no." She sighed. "Two, look around. Our community, our lifestyle, our tradition, our safety... it's all better here than in Bellville. And three, I'm stronger than Sheila. I can train you and figure out why we keep sensing a strong power coming from you."

I had said it once to Artan and here it was again. The way his grandmother wanted to control everything. The way she put the others down and glorified Lovell, and herself, as the best in the world.

That was the reason for my answer.

I locked my eyes with Darcy's. Determined and unflinching. "No."

I only got a brief glance of her wide, shocked eyes before I stood and went to find Artan so he could take me home.

# 20

The drive back was a little less tense than the one coming to Lovell. I credited that to the fact that Darcy and Oscar weren't in the car. And Sloan too. Though, I wouldn't have minded his company since during the party Sloan had been a little more open to me—but he was still a fierce warrior.

It was only Artan and me in the SUV, and I felt like a wall of concrete was driving the car.

We had just entered Broken Hill when he finally said something. "You're taking all of this better than I imagined."

I frowned. "How did you imagine I would take it?"

One corner of his lips tugged up. "Not you. I mean, an outsider. I guess I never stopped to think a tzigane could not know about his or her origins, so I've been trying to imagine how it would be, to be oblivious to my culture and way of life and suddenly find out about it."

I glanced out the window. "You can start by imagining how upset you would be with the person who lied to you for so many years."

Silence.

"I guess that must be pretty hard."

"You have no idea," I whispered. There was only blackness out on the interstate. He didn't prod for more. I didn't take Artan to be curious, or if he was curious, he wasn't nosy and kept it all to himself. However, I was curious. I turned my gaze back to him. "You said you can control air. Why didn't you participate in the demonstration?"

He scoffed. "That's not my thing."

So, he really was the quiet kind. The kind who stayed to the shadows, observing, learning, gathering information. For what? Artan had been like that all night. For the almost two hours that I danced with his sister and cousin and friends—and even with Stefano, who swore his love to me again—he had barely moved from his initial position, his gaze ninety-nine percent of the time on us. On me.

At some points, he had narrowed his eyes and his brow furrowed, as if he had been analyzing me, considering how much of a nuisance, or a threat, I was. Even so, I had been able to let go and move a little more and dance—not just sway side to side. Nothing like that afternoon he had seen me at the studio, but it had been nice.

All night, young women had gone to Artan and asked him to dance. He always declined. Which made me more curious about him. About his love life. In the safe darkness of the car, I stared at him. Even with the poor light coming from the night sky, I could see the shadows playing on the sharp angles of his face. He was handsome; that was a fact no one could deny. Then why wasn't he married yet? Or... I swallowed a gasp. Or, he had been married and his wife had been taken by alchemists? Just like Theron's fiancée had been killed.

I opened my mouth to ask about it, gently, but suddenly, only ten minutes from my building, Artan turned onto a different street and started driving away.

I tensed. "You're going the wrong way."

He continued staring at the road. "No, I'm going the right way."

"But my place is that way." I pointed back. "Where are you taking me?"

"To where I was instructed to take you."

"What the hell does that mean?"

I kept asking about it, but Artan didn't answer. A few minutes later, he entered a nice townhouse subdivision and pulled in front of a house with golden shrubs around the lot's perimeter.

An annoyed sigh escaped from my throat.

"Please, Artan, I won't stay here."

"It's safer."

I groaned. "Think of someone you can't stand. Or you're mad at. Or someone who hurt you and now you have to be around this person, but all you want to do is run." His brows curled down. "Being with her is all that for me. I know, deep down, that I love her. She's my mother, after all. But I need my privacy. I need my space. I need space _from_ her." Desperate, I reached over and placed my hand on his arm. The sleeve of his shirt was folded to his elbow, and my finger grazed the warm skin of his forearm. He went utterly still and his gaze dipped to my hand on his arm. Shit, what had I done? I quickly pulled my hand away and whispered, "Sorry."

Artan sucked in a sharp breath, then nodded once. "Okay. But don't make me regret this."

I smiled at him. "Thanks."

He stared at me for a moment too long, his brows knotting again. "You're welcome."

Then he turned the car around and drove me home. He parked in front of my building and I stared out the window, to the golden shrubs peppered around the perimeter.

"I'll repeat just once. Please, don't make me regret this. Stay inside. You should be safe then."

I tilted my head. "Are you saying alchemists wouldn't come inside?"

He groaned. "Oh, they would, but the golden horehound shrubs should make it hard to track you here."

I nodded. "Thanks for the ride." I opened the door and started moving out.

"Wait." Artan grabbed my wrist. I froze, looking at him. He quickly pulled his hand away. "Um, I'm supposed to ask what you thought of your visit."

A soft smile spread over my lips. "Were those orders?"

One corner of his lips tugged up. "Something like that."

I could just say, "it was fine," but for his sake, I decided to elaborate. "It was... different. At first, I felt overwhelmed. There was too much. Too much color, too many people, too much to see and learn. Your sister was patient with me when showing me around."

"Don't let her sweet talk rope you in. She can be a pain in the ass."

I smiled at him, imagining Artan and Ryane bickering. That I wanted to see. Again, his gaze flicked to my smile, to my mouth. I cleared my throat and continued, "The food was delicious and the demonstrations were over the top, but I'm grateful. Please thank your grandmother and everyone who had a hand in the feast for me." After saying no to Darcy's offer, I hadn't had the stomach to face her again and thank her. And, even though I thought she was an old hag, she had been a good host. Up until the end.

He nodded. "I will."

I hopped out of the SUV. "Good night, Artan."

"Good night."

I closed the door and climbed the couple of steps to the front door. Using my keys, I unlocked the door and pushed in. Once my entire body was inside, I turned and waved at him, showing him I was already inside.

The car started moving away.

I closed the door and took a deep breath.

I didn't have time to think of anything as a figure appeared from beside the stairs. The guy dressed in all black and with his hoodie pulled low.

He saw me and lifted his chin. "Hey, it's you." He stumbled toward me. "I need to talk to you."

I swallowed a scream and, not looking back, raced up the stairs and entered my apartment. I locked the door and leaned against it, willing my heartbeat and my breathing to slow down.

The woman didn't give up. Sheila kept pushing my limitations, hoping I would burst in power and prove Felix right in choosing me to open up to.

To be honest, I thought she was mad—even though she assured me she wasn't—that I had gone to Lovell yesterday and had spent a few hours with them. Now, she was making me pay by squeezing all the energy out of me.

Before practice, I had asked her about _gadjos_ and sixth sense, and she said a few had enhanced ones but had no idea how to use or control it. Although, a handful of _gadjos_ had the rare gift of foreseeing a few glimpses of the future. Not the answer I wanted to hear, since that meant Annie was probably foreseeing my death.

However, during practice, Sheila didn't give me a second free to worry about my future—or my past. At least it kept my mind busy and away from the recent upsetting events.

"Okay, let's try something different," Sheila said, gesturing for Cora to come closer. She had been standing beside Rye, Theron, and Ramon at the porch, observing the ongoing training. "Sit down before Mirella."

With an easy smile, Cora sat down on the ground and crossed her legs.

"Mirella, try to enter Cora's mind. Cora, shields up."

Taking a long breath, I closed my eyes and sent my senses toward Cora's mind. They bounced back after hitting a concrete-like wall. Shit, this was going to be hard. I pushed further, with every nerve of my tense body, and every inch of power I could find.

My senses became thin beams of power, and I sent them around Cora's mind, searching for a soft spot. Around, around they went. And found nothing.

I shot my eyes open. "I can't."

"You're not trying hard enough," Sheila said in her cold instructor tone. "Again."

Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I was even weaker than I first believed, or Cora was too strong for someone like me. Or both.

"It's impossible," I snapped.

Sheila turned her expressionless eyes at me. "No, it isn't." She waved at the group watching us. "I need another volunteer."

"I'll go," Theron said, jumping off the porch.

Cora stood, brushing the grass from her pants, and with his usual cocky grin, Theron took her place.

"What now?" He wiggled his eyebrows and I rolled my eyes.

"Same exercise," Sheila said. "Mirella will try to enter your mind and you'll fight back."

"You're telling them not to let me in," I complained. "Of course I won't break in."

Sheila stared at me. "I'm telling them to do what they would when facing alchemists. To keep their shields up. And you, as a powerful tzigane, should be able to break in."

"I'm not powerful," I mumbled under my breath.

"You can enter the lion's mind," she reminded me.

"Because he _lets_ me in." I was an inch from losing my patience. "I'm not powerful," I repeated louder this time.

"That remains to be seen," Sheila said. "Now. Begin."

With a groan, I closed my eyes and let my senses free. I guided them toward Theron and found a reinforced steel wall around his mind. If I couldn't break through Cora's, I wouldn't be able to break through his.

But I tried. I tried because Sheila would cook me alive if I didn't.

My senses went around and around Theron's mind. Probing, prodding, poking. Searching. I was about to give up when I felt it. I found it. A tiny spot, hidden among other pillars and curtains of protection, soft enough for me to break in.

I urged my powers forward. Theron's grunts disturbed my concentration and I lost the connection.

I shot my eyes open and found him glaring at me. "That's not a nice spot," he said, his voice tight. Damn, I had never seen him angry before, not outside a battle, and even during those he was always smiling and joking.

"It was the only one I found."

Sheila narrowed her eyes at us. "Again."

Not desiring Theron's rage, I sent my senses hunting for another spot. Minutes—or hours, I didn't really know—passed and I found only that same soft spot. Damn, I had to try this. He could forgive me later.

I pushed my power into it.

Theron pushed them back.

" _Puri daj_ ," he interrupted, making me lose the connection again. "She's getting in."

Sheila looked down at her grandson. "But... your mind is one of the strongest I know."

I lost my focus. "Say what?" I squeaked. "You sent me on a fool's errand?"

She didn't look sorry. "You have to learn. If you can't do it against the strongest mind, then it won't matter."

I groaned.

"Again."

"How about if Ramon does it now?" Theron's chin pointed to his brother, who after hearing his name, raised his hands and walked into the house. "Chicken."

"Come on, Theron," Sheila insisted. "You'll survive."

After a few curses under his breath, Theron closed his eyes and let me proceed. This time, I went directly to that spot and pushed into it. He resisted at first, but then...

I went through.

Everything around me—or my mind—exploded. I saw many images, felt many things, but none of it was mine. It was like a fast film, flashes of moments, rushing before my eyes.

A beautiful young woman. Theron beside her, happiness filling his chest. Their hands pressed together before them. Older people hugging them tight and patting their backs. The image changed. The beautiful lady and Theron were dancing, and he was hopeful he would really love her, that they would be happy together. The image changed again. This time, they were arguing, but I couldn't grasp exactly why. The next image showed me both of them pretending to be nice to each other around other people, other tzigane. The last image was of the beautiful woman lying on a burning vurdon, a crowd of tziganes watching, their eyes gleaming with tears. She was dead and Theron cried for her.

Then it all stopped and I was surrounded by complete darkness. What the hell had been all those images? Theron's memories? Shit. Was that his fiancée?

Sheila's words reached me. "Think of something, Mirella. A strong feeling. In Theron's mind."

Like what? Like the disappointment I felt over my mother and her lies, and the way she still lied to me? Like the scary thought of being tortured to death by alchemists? Like the sadness of being ignored by Ellie? Or like Phillip being out of town again?

"Whoa, calm down," Theron said. "Too much. Only one feeling is fine."

His walls grew tall around me and pushed me away.

My eyes fluttered open. I expected to see his cocky grin while he congratulated me for being able to do it, but Theron wasn't looking at me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Sheila squeezed my shoulder. "Good, good."

Theron shot up. "Can I go now, _puri daj_?"

She gave him one curt nod, and then she turned to me. "All right, enough for today." Sheila offered her hand and helped me up. My eyes followed as Theron rushed inside the house. "I have something to show you."

I snapped my attention back to her.

"What now? More tests?"

The harsh instructor mien was gone and a warm smile adorned her lips. "Just come."

Holding my hand, Sheila guided me through the green lawn for a few hundred yards, until we were on top of another hill.

"There." She pointed to a garden on the base of the hill.

I looked at her. "What's there?"

"Come and see."

As we went down the hill, I got a better look at the garden. It was enchanting. The lush green lawn stretched over to a small creek, one that disappeared under an outer stone wall. Flowers of red, yellow, white, pink, blue, orange, and every other color, were planted side by side, flanking peach-colored stone trails that whirled in and out of the lawn, ultimately leading to a grotto at the center.

Bright coral stones composed the three lower steps of the grotto, then the colors lightened gradually, rising with a podium until a beige tone culminated it. Coral stones formed a half-dome, and right in the center of the podium, the white statue of a saint stood tall, almost as tall as me. Her face was peaceful, her smile encouraging, and her palms were pressed together like in a prayer.

I squinted at the saint, sure I had seen her before.

"That's Saint Sara-la-Kali," Sheila said. "Our protector."

Oh, I knew where I had seen her before.

I pulled the neckline of my blouse down a little, and reached to where my bra strap met the pad. I unhooked the safety pin from the inside of the bra and held the pendant up, showing it to Sheila.

"It's the same saint," I said, amused. Of course, I had noticed there was the engraving of a saint in the pendant, but I never bothered to find out which one.

Her eyes rounded as she reached for the pendant. "Where did you get this?"

"My mother gave it to me when I started wearing bras. I was ten. Maybe nine? I don't remember. She said it was important I wear it all the time. The saint would protect me wherever I went."

She turned the pendant in her hands. It was flat like a small coin, but thicker, and the saint was engraved in both sides. "This is pretty." She returned it to me. "She's right. Wear it always."

"Because it'll protect me?" I asked, trying not to laugh. How would a piece of metal protect me?

"Well, Saint Sara-la-Kali is our protector." She paused. "But if not for that, at least wear it as a sign of good faith."

# 21

My mother was making dinner when I arrived home that evening.

She didn't even glance at me as I closed and locked the door, and made my way to the kitchen. I halted by the tall counter and sighed. With her lips pressed tight, she chopped onions with ease.

The warm scent of paprika and garlic reached my nose. "It smells nice."

She took the cutting board to the range and pushed the chopped onion inside a pan with the knife. She returned to stand beside the sink and started chopping red and green peppers. And still she said nothing.

My skin itched with the urge to tell her I knew why she had been banished. To ask her more about my father. If he had really left us like she made me believe all these years, or if she left to protect him, to keep him away from alchemists.

But I already knew she wouldn't answer. Whatever I asked, she wouldn't answer. She would change subjects or pretend she didn't know what I was talking about.

I sighed. "All right. Since it seems dinner will take a while and you won't talk to me, I'll take a shower."

I started for my bedroom. I was by the door when she finally slammed the knife down and glared at me.

"I thought you were done with Bellville," she said, her voice not hiding her disappointment, her frustration.

"Why?"

"You went to Lovell yesterday and, from what I heard, you had a great time there."

Unbelievable. "Do you have spies in there or something? How can you know everything that happens there? I thought you were banished."

She flinched. "I _am_ banished, but... I'm trying to help them."

"I don't get it. Shouldn't you be mad at them? Are you trying to get un-banished? Is that it?"

"No, no. I don't care about that. I... I miss being part of an enclave, but I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about you. I'm trying to help them get through to you. You need to accept you're a tzigane and accept Lovell as _your_ enclave."

I snorted. "You're trying to help them get through to me. How, if not even you can? In fact, you don't even try. You do a great job avoiding talking to me, telling me anything. You prefer just standing there, like a decorative vase in the corner, rather than talking to me, afraid I'll ask things you don't want to answer."

Her eyes widened. What? She thought I hadn't figured her out?

"I..." She closed her mouth again and sighed. Her shoulders sagged. She was giving up. Once more, she would just let it go. "Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes," she muttered, turning to the kitchen.

I watched her for a minute. She moved around the kitchen, chopping, mixing, simmering, as if there was nothing wrong out there. As if there was nothing wrong in here. She was a coward, and right now, I was ashamed of her.

With a sigh, I went to my bedroom.

I had just taken off my blouse when the doorbell rang.

"What now?" I mumbled to myself, putting my blouse back on.

In the living room, I found my mother halfway to the door. "I'll get it," I said to her.

She halted, looking at me, considering. She probably realized she should check on her food before it burned, so she nodded and returned to the kitchen.

I opened the door.

Artan and Sloan stood on the other side, their expressions solemn and their right hands over the hilt of their swords. My eyes widened. I didn't think I had seen them out before with their swords showing like that, only that night in the parking garage, but then they were ready for a fight.

"What's wrong?" I asked, stepping back. Artan and Sloan entered my apartment, nodded to my mother, then turned to me. I closed the door. "You're scaring me."

"You... you should sit down," Artan said, his rough voice low.

I crossed my arms. "I'm fine."

Artan exchanged a brief glance with Sloan. Then he returned his eyes to me. "I believe this is yours?"

He pulled my green shawl from behind his back. The one I had been wearing yesterday when I went to their enclave.

"Yes." I remembered taking it off because it got too hot while dancing inside the tents. I placed it over my chair... and then I didn't remember picking it back up. "Oh no." I took it from him and pressed it to my chest. "What happened?"

Averting his eyes, Artan shook his head.

Sloan cleared his throat. "Apparently, Stefano found it and wanted to bring it to you."

"W-what?"

Artan lifted his eyes, his gaze hard on mine. "He left this morning to surprise you and alchemists found him."

My knees wobbled. "No..." I looked from Artan to Sloan. "You saved him, right?"

Sloan shook his head. "We didn't know where he had gone. We didn't even know he had left until his mother expressed concern since he was gone for a few hours and he had never done that before. Not without letting someone know."

Artan took a step toward me, his eyes burning. "Now tell me this is a coincidence. Tell me you have nothing to do with it."

I sucked in a sharp breath. I couldn't say that, not really.

I opened my mouth to tell the truth when the doorbell rang again.

My heart stopped. What now?

Without ceremony, Artan opened the door, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

His face blanching, Phillip stared at Artan, then me, then Sloan. His gaze dipped to the swords on their waists.

"What do you want?" Artan barked.

"What's going on?" Phillip asked, stepping forward.

Artan moved, taking up the entire door to stop Phillip from entering. "You should leave."

"Not without speaking to Mirella."

I stood beside Artan, pushing him away. "I'm here."

Phillip took in my droopy eyes and my weak voice. "What happened?" He reached for me, but I stepped back. "Mirella?"

There was too much blood and danger around me. Layla, Serena and Amy, Ellie, and now Stefano. I couldn't be near someone without putting them in danger. And I couldn't do that to Phillip... to Annie. They deserved to be happy and carefree, and to never have to worry about being attacked by masked men.

They had to stay away from me.

Trying to find strength within me, I lifted my chin. "I'm... I'm sorry, Phillip, but I don't want to go out with you anymore. I don't want to see you anymore." I clamped my lips shut before my voice broke and gave it away.

"But..." His eyes searched my face. "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?" I shook my head. He turned his enraged eyes to the wall standing right behind me. "It's you, isn't it? I saw you two talking the other day, and now here he's again." He looked at me. "Are you going out with him?"

"No, no," I said lamely.

"Then what?" Phillip reached for me, and once more, I retreated from his touch. "Tell me what it is, Mirella, and I'll fix it."

I shook my head. "There's nothing to fix."

"Then give me a good reason. Tell me why and make it good. Otherwise, I'll repeat what I once said to you. I won't give up that easily."

Shit. We didn't have time for that. He had to go. Now. He had to go back to Annie and keep her away from me. Oh shit... the dance studio. My college classes. I shook my head, focusing on the problem in front of me.

"Yes, you're right," I blurted out, clinging to the first idea that popped in my mind. I reached for Artan behind me and hooked my arm around his waist. "I'm going out with him." Artan went rigid and Phillip's eyes bulged. I took a deep breath, trying to keep it all in. "Artan is my boyfriend."

"That's right." Artan wound his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. I felt my hips pressing into his hard legs, my shoulder buried into his packed chest. "She's mine."

As if I had punched him in the gut, Phillip took a step back, his eyes even wider than before, his face paler.

Oh my God, this hurt. I couldn't take much more of this.

"I'm sorry," I said, closing the door in his face.

A whimper ripped from my throat and I sagged.

"Hey, careful there." Artan caught my arms before I could fall on the floor.

He dragged me to the couch, where he pushed me down. My mind was numb, and I barely acknowledged as I sat and my mother appeared beside me, a tea mug in her hands.

"Here," she said. "It's chamomile. It'll make you feel better."

I glanced at the tea. It would make me better? Did it have the answers I was looking for? Could it make me a _gadjo_? Could it bring back Stefano? Layla? Could it fix my friendship with Ellie? Could it erase the words I had just said to Phillip?

I placed the mug on the coffee table and uncoiled to my feet. "I need a minute."

I rushed to my bedroom and closed the door.

A few sobs racked my body as I opened the top drawer of my dresser, unclasped the necklace Phillip had given me, and hid it under my clothes.

Then I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the dresser, and cried.

It took more than a minute, but eventually, I dragged my feet from my bedroom.

My mother was in the kitchen, cleaning up after the untouched dinner, while Artan and Sloan were seated on the stools in front of the counter, keeping her company.

The warriors stood once they noticed my presence.

"I'm ready to talk now," I said, my voice still low, still weak.

"I'll make more tea," my mother muttered to no one, and she made herself busy in the kitchen again.

Feeling like a zombie, I sat down on the couch and clasped my hands to stop the shaking that wanted to take over my entire body.

Artan and Sloan halted before me, two menacing walls looming over me.

I looked up at them. "I don't know why... I really have no idea... but alchemists seem to have been following me all my life." My mother knew that. That was why we moved so much. To make sure we were never in the same spot for long, making for an easier target. More things she never told me.

I told them everything. I told them about Layla, about Amy and Serena, about the first attack on me, which had been aimed at Ellie, but I was able to send her away before the alchemists got to her. The second attack on me, and the second attack on Ellie. And now Stefano. I told them that besides the one attack directly on me that night at the club, all the others happened to other people, when they had something that had belonged to me. Layla had my gift, Serena and Amy had my bracelets, Ellie had my sweatshirt then my book, and Stefano had my shawl.

"I don't know why they keep going after my things instead of me." Tears brimmed in my eyes. But I had known this. I had known the alchemists had been after my things. I had known. Yet, I chose to ignore it. I pushed it down, because, really? What could they want with my _things_? It didn't make sense. So, I ignored it without meaning to. I brushed it off as a coincidence and never once considered telling anyone about it. Until now. I felt so stupid. So selfish. So immature. "I'm a danger to anyone who gets too close to me."

A loud clang and splash came from the kitchen. We all looked back and my mother raised her palms. "Sorry. I just dropped the mug," she said. But I noticed it. I noticed the way her eyes avoided looking at me, how her hands trembled, and how her face was blanched. "Stupid me," she muttered, kneeling down to clean her mess.

With his lips pressed into a frown, Artan sat down on the coffee table right in front of me. "I can't think of anything that could have the alchemists so eager to get you."

"But if they really wanted to get her, why haven't they done it so far?" Sloan asked, pacing behind the coffee table. "Why go after people with her things?"

Artan shook his head. "I don't know..."

I gasped as something popped into my mind.

Sloan stopped in his tracks. "What is it?"

My hands trembled as I blurted, "There's a guy... a guy who is always around the building, lurking in the corners. He's always wearing black with a hood pulled low on his face. He actually tried talking to me, grabbed me twice."

Artan stood and looked at Sloan, who nodded, before his returning his attention to me. "Does he live here in the building?"

"I don't know..."

Artan fished his cell phone from his pocket. "All right, I'm gonna call other warriors and we will—"

My phone buzzed and we all stared at it as if it would explode at any moment.

It buzzed again and I reached for it.

Theron: _Hey, what are you doing?_

Theron: _I'm still in town and I thought I could check on you._

It wasn't uncommon for Theron to text me. He always did whenever he was coming to pick me up for a training session with Sheila or when he had arrived and was waiting for me in front of the building, but he never warned me before checking on me. And he never checked on me right after having dropped me off.

I looked up at Artan. "Does Bellville know about Stefano?"

He frowned. "Not yet. I don't think so. Why?"

I said, "Because I think they should know everything," at the same time I typed a message to Theron.

Me: _Come on over. I need to tell you something._

Artan growled. "We don't need to share anything with them."

I stood and faced him. No matter that he was about a head taller than me, I wasn't feeling intimidated right now. "I spent a lot of time with them. Only God knows if I left something behind without meaning to and someone took it. I _will_ warn them."

My phone buzzed again and I checked the text.

Theron: _Be there in ten._

"Then you can call them and let them know," Artan snapped.

I shook my head. "Theron is coming over right now." Artan fumed. Not in the mood for any more crap from anyone, I gave him my back and walked to the kitchen. "Besides, weren't you going to call other warriors to help out? If Theron is here, he can keep me company while the two of you go out to do whatever you want."

Artan approached Sloan and the both of them talked in hushed tones on the other side of the room.

My mother stood behind the kitchen counter like a statue. She didn't look at me when I entered the kitchen, nor did she offer to help me when I grabbed more tea. Something was up, and once more, she wasn't talking.

I was adding honey to my tea when she finally moved and placed her hand on my arm. Her eyes shone with something that resembled sadness. "I'm sorry."

I turned to her, wishing, begging with my mind, for her to tell me more. "For?"

"For everything," she whispered. "For moving so much, for not letting you have friends, for the few friends you made and ended up losing, for the _gadjo_ who you just had to dismiss to keep him safe."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I wondered if that was why I never knew my father. If, to keep him safe, my mother had left him. And to think of all the years I thought he had left us.

More hurt snaked through my chest. "I don't want to talk about Phillip right now."

She patted my arm. "I understand."

I held my breath for a second, gathering my courage. Then I asked, "Mom, do you know anything about this? Why the alchemists keep going after my things instead of me?"

"No, of course not." She smiled at me as if I were crazy.

I narrowed my eyes at her. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that for the first time in her life, she wasn't lying to me. Because, God help me, if she was lying, if she knew anything and didn't tell me, didn't warn me... I would never forgive her.

Not a minute later, my phone buzzed again.

Theron: _I'm here. Coming up now._

I said to the warriors planted in front of the door, "He's here."

With a groan, Artan opened the door and soon Theron appeared on the other side.

The cocky grin lasted for a second. Then he noticed Artan and Sloan and their weapons. Opening his legs wide and bringing his palms up, Theron readied himself for a fight. "What's going on?"

# 22

After a show of testosterone, I shooed Artan and Sloan out of the apartment to go track the hooded guy, while I pulled Theron to the couch. My mother grimaced when he greeted her, but like a good host—even though this place was not her home—she offered him tea.

Then, I explained everything to him. I repeated all I had told Artan and Sloan. All about Layla, Serena and Amy, Ellie, and Stefano.

"That doesn't make sense," he said, a big frown between his brows.

I clasped my hands over my stomach. "I know, but unless I'm missing something here, that's what's happening."

Theron rested his big hand over mine. "I'm sorry. We'll solve this mystery somehow. I promise. Even if I have to work with Lovell..." He made a face and a low chuckle escaped me. "I promise, okay?"

I nodded. "Thanks." I reached for the steaming tea mug on the coffee table—I had barely sipped any, but my mom kept it full and hot for me. "What were you doing in town?"

He shrugged. "I like to drive, so sometimes I just take my Jeep and drive around. No destination in mind."

"As long as it wasn't a fake excuse to come check on me."

"It wasn't." He paused, becoming serious again. "But, to be honest, I had stopped to put some gas in my Jeep and was about to drive back to the enclave, when I felt something..." He placed his fingertips to his temple. "Right here."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know how to explain... maybe I sensed you?"

A whimper came from the kitchen. I rose halfway from the couch. "Everything okay, Mom?"

She stretched over the counter and smiled at me, her grin too wide. "Yes. I just bumped my elbow on the counter. Everything is fine." She disappeared behind the counter again.

Frowning, I returned my attention to Theron. "So... you think you sensed me?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "Maybe I sensed danger? Or distress? It's odd. I've never felt anything like that."

"Maybe it's because of the training earlier and your mind is still open to mine."

He shook his head. "I don't think so. I feel my walls in place. Anyway, I'm glad I texted you."

"Me too."

He glanced at the door. "Why are those punks taking so long?"

"Playing babysitter bothers you," I said. Not a question.

One corner of his lips tugged up. "Depends on the company." I rolled my eyes, and he went back to being serious. "Yes, being honest, I prefer being in the middle of the action than staying behind."

I sighed. "Hopefully, they already caught the guy and are now squeezing all the information we need from him."

Another lopsided grin. "Sounds fun."

I shook my head.

Tense silence fell in the room while we waited for Artan and Sloan to come back. We played with our phones, drank more tea, and shifted positions on the couch. Finally, almost forty minutes after they left, Artan and Sloan rang the bell.

Theron opened the door for them.

"It's not him," Sloan said.

I leaned forward on the couch. "What do you mean?"

Artan glared at Theron before he looked at me. "The guy is a tenant's son. He's addicted to heroin, and apparently, he's always high and sneaking out to buy more drugs. From what we learned, he's always trying to talk to everyone in the building to ask for money."

"Or drugs," Sloan added, returning to his pacing.

With a sigh, Artan sat on the coffee table again. "While we were gone, I talked to the rom baro and some of the elders." My insides tensed. "To make sure you and your loved ones are safe, they want you to move to Lovell. Right now."

"Say what?" I probably hadn't heard him right.

Artan continued, "You can argue all you want, but if you stop and consider this, you know it's true. You'll be safer at Lovell. No alchemist will come after you there, and if they do, we can protect you."

"I agree," Theron said.

I gaped at him. "Say what?"

"Yes," Artan snarled. "What?"

"I know, I know." Theron raised his hands, palms out. "It's strange, right? Me agreeing with my nemesis, but unfortunately, Artan is right. You should move to Lovell. At least until we can solve this problem."

Artan stood, chest puffed. "We?"

Theron took a large step toward him. "Yes, we. Don't you think—"

"Nobody gave you permission to get near her, much less—"

"—I'll won't let you do this alone. She's my friend too, and I'll—"

"—to be here. You already did your part. Now you should—"

"—protect her. I don't care what you think. I'm here to stay and—"

"—leave and let the real warriors solve the matter. Didn't you—"

I rose to my feet. "STOP!" Both Artan and Theron stopped bickering and turned to me, their gazes at my feet. "I don't care what any of you think. This is _my_ life and I won't let others order me around, regardless of having the best intentions." I sighed. "I won't go to Lovell. Or Bellville. And that's final." But I had to do something about my life. I couldn't go to work or school anymore. I would only put other people in danger.

"Then come live with me," my mother spoke, startling us. With a small smile, she approached us. "I don't have my powers anymore, but I have the golden horehound shrubs, and I can certainly keep an eye on you." She turned to Artan. "And you're always welcome to check in on her. I have Darcy's and Oscar's numbers, but I can get yours, too, and I'll call you if I think there's anything wrong."

Artan shook his head. "It's too risky."

I didn't like it either. Not because of safety, but because I couldn't imagine living under the same roof as my mother again. Yet, it seemed like a better option than to hole up in an enclave and live under scrutiny and rules I didn't understand.

I could simply stand my ground and say I wouldn't move, but I knew better. There was too much at stake here. People had been killed. I couldn't let my pride reign in this situation.

"Well," I spoke up, "it doesn't exactly please me, but I could do that. I can move to my mother's house, to be safer."

"I don't think the elders will like this," Artan said.

"They certainly won't," Sloan added.

I shrugged. "I don't care what the elders think. This is it. I'm moving in with my mom. Take it or leave it."

Artan didn't seem convinced, but he nodded. "All right."

My shoulders sagged. "Okay. Hmm... what now?"

Theron spoke next. "Now, we get you moved."

I thought they were joking. It was late at night. Move into my mother's house now? But they weren't joking. Between the five of us, we packed my meager belongings in less than two hours, and fitted them all—except for the crappy yard sale furniture—into Artan's SUV, Theron's Jeep, and my mother's old sedan.

It was past midnight when all my things were safely inside my mother's house, _my_ house. We didn't organize anything though. My stuff stayed sprawled over the living room and foyer and the hallway beside the stairs, while my mother made us another round of tea and snacks.

After an argument, Artan convinced Theron that he and Sloan would stay the night, making sure my mother and I were safe. Theron would go home, warn the other tziganes at Bellville, and rest.

He left promising he would be here early morning to take Artan and Sloan's place.

I felt like a caged animal. Or a criminal. Locked inside the house and with guards patrolling outside.

That night I barely slept. Or the next night. Or the next.

I had given up on everything. I called the dance studio and let Julie know I was sick and wouldn't make it to classes for at least a week—I couldn't bring myself to tell her I would never be back. I didn't want to believe that was true.

Maybe if Artan, Theron, and the others caught the alchemists who were terrorizing my life...

I didn't dare hope. Instead, I emailed my professors with the same lie. I was sick and wouldn't be in class for a week. Some emailed me back offering to send me the classwork through email so I didn't fall behind. I almost cried.

Meanwhile, the men had fallen into a schedule, rotating every few hours through who would keep an eye on the house and on me—Artan, Sloan, Tomas, and Leander from Lovell, and Theron, Ramon, Jaime, Shay, Rye, and Cora from Bellville.

I hadn't set foot outside since Sunday night.

My mother knocked on my door and pushed it open. "Hi, Mi sweetie."

I was seated on my old bed, staring at the window. The curtains were pulled closed, but a few rays of sunlight peeked from under them.

My mother said beside me, "Do you want some tea? Maybe a snack too? What are you hungry for?"

"Nothing," I muttered.

She rested her hand on my knee. "You have to eat, Mirella. It has been three days since you moved here and you've barely eaten anything. I can see in your cheeks that you've already lost some weight."

My life had practically ended—I couldn't do the things I loved, I couldn't be near the people who I had called friends and lover, I couldn't step out of the house without having bodyguards all over me—and she was worried about food?

I didn't even feel like dancing. And that showed just how well I was.

Her eyes darted around the room, smiling. "Did you miss it?"

"My bedroom?"

"Yes."

I looked around. I wasn't a big woman, but the bed looked so little for me. The decorations were childish, and the furniture outdated. No, I didn't miss it. In fact, if I was going to stay here, I would redecorate. Paint the walls black, buy a black comforter, a black rug... all black to match my mood.

I shot up. "I need some air," I muttered, turning to the door.

Standing, my mother wrapped her hand around my wrist. "Mirella, you shouldn't go out."

I pulled my arm from her hold. "I... I won't go far. I just need to stretch my legs and breathe in some fresh air." I needed to air my mind, to clear my thoughts. "I promise I'll just walk around the block. Besides, we know whoever is guarding outside will follow me."

With a sigh, she let go of my arm.

And I rushed out.

The moment I climbed down the two front steps, Cora appeared by my side.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

I didn't stop moving. "For a walk."

She fell into step with me. "I'm not sure that's wise."

I sighed before repeating the words I said to my mother, "I won't go far. And you'll follow me, won't you? I'll be safe."

I shoved my hands inside my jeans pockets and trudged along, following the sidewalk around the block. My mother lived in a nice neighborhood and the sun was high and warm. There were no shadows for monsters to be lurking about, ready to pounce.

However, as I walked and inhaled the fresh, warm air of September, my mind raced. I couldn't stop my thoughts as they shifted through everything that happened this last month. If only I could go back in time... then I wouldn't... what wouldn't I do? I hadn't planned on any of this, and without a warning, it was possible everything would play out the same.

I sighed.

"I'm sorry," Cora muttered from a couple of steps behind me. I glanced over my shoulder at her. "I know what it is to lose everything."

Oh yes... her entire enclave had been killed by alchemists two years ago. Only Nico, Rye, and she had survived.

I did think the things I had lost were important, but Cora... she had lost her parents, her brother, her friends, her home. The pain she had felt, probably still did, was much greater than mine. Yet here she was, looking strong and beautiful and lethal, ready to break out in a flamenco move or stab the next person who crossed our path.

"Does it get easier?" I asked in a low voice.

"It never stops hurting and you never forget the despair and the pain and the helplessness, but it does. It gets better. It gets... tolerable."

I nodded. "I'm sorry for all you had to endure."

She nodded at me, too.

We walked for a moment longer in silence.

Then Cora's phone beeped. She picked it up from her pocket.

"It's Theron. He's on the way to switch with Rye and me."

I looked at her. "Rye is here?"

"Yeah, he's stationed behind the house." She tucked her phone back into her pocket.

I slowed my steps. "Hmm, is there something between you and Rye?"

Her eyes widened for a brief moment before her face returned to its cool mask. "Why do you ask?"

"The first day I was in Bellville... when I asked about you being engaged... I saw you looking at him, then both of you looked away."

She pressed her lips into a thin line. From the tension of her body, I didn't think she would answer, until she finally said, "Female warriors are rare, and they were looked down upon in my enclave. So unlike most girls in my enclave, I wasn't promised."

I frowned. "Looked down?" I didn't understand that. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Because women are supposed to be delicate and weak and dependent on men. I don't know. It doesn't make much sense to me."

It didn't make much sense to me either. Every time I looked at Cora, I was utterly jealous of her beauty, her posture, her elegance, and her strength. I wished I could be as badass as she was.

"That's stupid," I mumbled.

She let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I agree. Anyway... the night Rye asked for my hand from my father, our enclave was attacked." I gaped at her. "Rye and I... I don't know. We have something going on, but neither of us knows how to name it."

"But you're twenty-one, right?"

She nodded. "Rye asked once. Only once. I said no."

"Why? Don't you like him?"

"I... I think I do." A crease marred her forehead. "It's just complicated."

"But—"

"We should head back," she blurted, halting suddenly.

"All right," I muttered, understanding she didn't want to talk more about it. To be honest, I was surprised Cora had shared all that with me. But I was glad she did.

In the driveway of my mother's house— _my_ house—Cora bid me goodbye. She moved her hand in front of her and the stones, the ones that lined the flower bed, floated in the air, forming a stair for her. She grinned at me as she climbed it and disappeared at the top of a tall tree.

The stones floated back to their places as if nothing had happened.

Still amazed at all they could do, I shook my head.

I walked to the front door, my thoughts back to all the crazy happenings of the last few weeks as I tried to fish my keys from one of my pockets, until I stepped forward and kicked something.

Automatically, my gaze fell to my feet and I gasped.

The Heart Flower.

The red flower with the heart-shaped middle lay on the ground before my shoes.

With my mouth open and incapable of closing it, I hunched down and grabbed it in my hand. The whole head of the flower was bigger than my palm and its stem was as long as my forearm. The petals felt like silk and the red shone as if the flower was powered by batteries. However, at the center, where I had seen a gelatin-type cushion in the painting, was nothing. The gelatin part was missing, leaving a small depression on the heart-shaped center.

Exquisite. And its scent was like nothing I had ever smelled before. Sweet and spicy at the same time, rich and velvety. I could eat it, but I doubted it would taste as good as it smelled.

I ran my fingertips over its petals, still amazed with its feel. Incredible.

I turned around to show it to Cora, but I couldn't see her from here. I opened my mouth to call her, but the sound of my mother's voice coming from inside the house startled me. For some reason, I hid the flower under my thin jacket. Then another voice rang loud. A man's voice. Their tones were angry, and they snapped at each other. I couldn't hear their exact words, but they sounded mad.

My heart hammered. What if the man was an alchemist and she was snapping at him and making the situation worse?

Frowning, I unlocked and pushed the door open. To my shock, my mother and Dolan were standing in front of each other in the living room. What was Theron's father doing here?

My arrival had shut them up, and my mother's gaze changed from angry to worried.

"Mirella, you're home."

"Yes... I said I wouldn't be gone for long." I turned to Dolan. "Hi. What's going on?"

Dolan opened his mouth to speak, but my mother pushed him toward the door.

"He was just leaving."

"Risa." The man glanced back to my mother, annoyance printed in his expression.

Again that name... Risa. Did he know her from before she had been banished?

"Our discussion is finished, Dolan."

Immobile, I watched as my mother pushed Dolan out without ceremony.

After closing the door behind her, she smiled at me as if nothing had happened.

"What was Dolan doing here?"

Her eyes averted mine. "Nothing."

"That didn't seem like nothing."

I thought I would break her; I thought she would spill what was going on. But once more, she let me down.

Without looking at me, she walked away to the kitchen. She mumbled something about cooking dinner for us, but I barely listened. I was too stunned to listen.

Damn it. Everything was falling apart around me. Here I thought coming back to my mother's house would help. Maybe deep down, I had been hoping she would finally open up to me, talk to me, stop lying, and make everything clear. Clearer.

Who I was kidding?

Why did I have such hope my own family, my own mother, would become someone I could trust? She had never given me reason to.

# 23

My life sucked.

At the moment, I had more than a plateful of problems and no energy to deal with it all. Trust issues with my mother. Alchemists after me. Not talking to Ellie. Heartbroken over Phillip and Annie. I couldn't go to the dance studio or to my classes. Theron and Artan looked like two mother hens instead of just guarding the house—or me. Darcy had come to visit me yesterday, and once more her too-wide grins made me think she really was an old hag, giving me chills every time I denied her something—this time, it was about moving to Lovell.

My busy mind and my problems were taking all the breath out of me.

I was really trying to get by, to go on, live a day at a time, but damn, it was hard when all I could do was sit here and do nothing. And I had been at this for five days now—it was enough to drive a person crazy.

"Are you okay, Mirella?" my mother asked me as she sat beside me, handing me a cup of tea.

I had been alone in the backyard, seated on the porch steps, thinking about the shit exploding around me, until my mother arrived with tea—her signal for wanting to talk—or trying to.

I sipped from my tea. "As well as I can be."

"It'll all work out." She patted my knee. "What were you just daydreaming about?"

Daydreaming? I was crying on the inside, trying to figure out how to solve all my problems. But no, to my mother, I was simply sitting here, enjoying the warmth of the sun before it set, as if there was nothing wrong.

I bit my tongue, forcing the argument to stay bottled up. Damn, I was tired of fighting.

"I don't want to talk about it," was all I managed to say.

After another pat on my knee, she stood and went back inside the house.

I took a long breath, as if the air around me had been stuffy with her so close.

But my relief was short lived. A minute after my mother left, Artan, using his air powers, landed on the lawn in front of me.

With the orange sun shining behind him, his hair looked more golden than amber, and the skin of his lower arms and neck and face seemed more tanned. Bright light reflected from the small hoop on his ear. Standing like this, tall and strong and framed by sunlight, Artan looked like a god ready for battle.

He sat beside me, his solemn amber eyes on me. "What's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "You'll just stay inside this house, without going anywhere, with us watching out for you, for the rest of your life?"

I glared at him. "Well, I would leave if I could. I want to go the dance studio and school, but you know I shouldn't." I looked down at my feet. "I can't go anywhere." Not without putting others at risk.

A plan had started forming in my mind on my second day locked here. But before I presented it to Artan and Theron, I had to find the right words, to plan it right, otherwise they would shut me down before I even finished telling them about it.

The alchemists were after me, right? Or my things, whatever. Well, Artan and Theron could grab some of my things and go to an open space, far from innocent _gadjos_ , a place where other warriors could easily hide. Then, they wait. At some point, the alchemists had to show up, right? Artan, Theron, and the warriors could fight the alchemists. They would win, I hoped, and I would be free to return to my normal life.

"That's not true," Artan said, yanking me from my planning.

"What isn't true?"

"You can go to Lovell." His voice was a little less rough and harsh than usual, as if he too was trying to butter me up. "There you can roam free, do what you want... we even have a dance studio where the kids learn how to dance flamenco and other dances. I bet you could become a teacher there. At Lovell, you would be involved in the community, you would make friends, you would do something."

"Ugh, you're worse than your grandmother."

A lopsided grin. "Is it working?"

Unfortunately, it was. I didn't want to surrender that easily, but I knew I couldn't just stay seated here forever. Another week of staying idle like this and I would be crawling up the walls, truly insane.

Then there was my plan...

I pushed to my feet. "I... need to think about it."

Without waiting for a response or a comment, I marched into the house.

I threw the cup of tea into the sink, wishing it would break and release some of my stress, but it didn't, and I had to live with the lump in my chest getting bigger and bigger.

I was walking to my room, to sulk or cry or break everything, when my cell phone rang. It was probably Theron checking on me. He did that whenever he wasn't here.

I fished my phone from my pocket and stared at the screen, freezing in place.

Ellie.

My hands started shaking. I rushed into my bedroom and leaned on my closed door.

"Hello?" I answered. Through deep breaths, I willed my voice to a normal level and tone.

"Hey, it's me," she said, her voice small. "I was thinking we could talk."

I paused. "I'm listening."

"Oh no, not through the phone, it's... I would rather see you."

Damn it. "I can't, Ellie. I've got som—"

"Please, it's important."

Her sweet, begging tone. It gutted me. "I can't right now," I repeated.

"What if I come to you?"

I glanced over my shoulder, to the closed door, as if I could see through it, through the walls, to wherever my mother was. Then there were my bodyguards. There were always two of them at a time. If Artan was here, it meant Sloan was here too.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. You see, I moved into my mother's house and she's always all over me."

"Then I'll just park in the driveway and you can come to my car. We can just drive around the neighborhood while we talk, if you want. Or even around the block. Whatever works for you."

I shouldn't talk to her. It was best for her if she stayed far away from me. It was safer. "It's better not..."

"Please, Mi. I really need to talk to you. Please."

When she put that _please_ in there, I couldn't take it. My will was crumbling. My strength fading. No, I couldn't see her, talk to her. I shouldn't.

But I missed my friend. I missed her easy laughs, her contagious smile, her happy personality. And if my plan worked, soon I would be free to be her true friend again. A good, real friend, like she deserved.

It wouldn't be so bad, though, right? Technically, it would be like my walks around the block, but instead of walking alone and being followed by the warriors, I would be in Ellie's car. It would be safe, as long as it didn't take too long.

I glanced at the closed door again, a plan forming in my mind. "Come over at nine."

"You're looking better," my mother said when I came to the kitchen a few minutes later.

"I am." I looked at her, hoping she couldn't see anything suspicious in my face, couldn't sense anything suspicious in me. "I was thinking... can we make dinner and invite Artan and Sloan?"

She smiled at me, probably thinking I was finally choosing Lovell. "Of course."

For the next hour, I helped her make a hearty salad, a rich garlic rice and chicken bake, and potatoes au gratin to go with it. And we had ice cream for dessert.

When it was almost ready, I went out to the back porch and called them.

Artan jumped down from a big tree in the backyard, his air power softening his landing, and Sloan appeared from the side of the house.

"We made dinner for you," I told them, gesturing for them to come inside the house. Usually, my mother brought snacks, water, and juice to whoever was outside every few hours, but we hadn't invited them to eat inside yet.

Artan and Sloan exchanged a look.

"We shouldn't," Artan said first.

"Yeah, we should stay outside, watching out," Sloan added.

I rolled my eyes. "You can eat fast then, if you have to, but come on. Nothing is going to happen in ten minutes."

Artan sighed. "I don't know."

I put my hands on my waist. "Look, _I_ just cooked dinner for you, and you will come inside and eat. I'm not taking a no."

After another shared look between the two of them, Artan nodded. "But it'll be quick."

I shrugged. "That's fine."

Two minutes later, we were seated around the kitchen table, the food on trivets in between us. My mother had wanted to dine in the dining room, with her best cloth and china, but I told her the guys wouldn't want anything formal.

All part of my plan.

Sloan took a big lungful. "Hmm, this smells good."

"Wait until you try it," my mother said, rather proud.

I could see the wheels turning in her mind, thinking that Artan and Sloan would go back to Lovell and sing her praises, then Oscar and Darcy and the other elders would forgive her and un-banish her, and welcome her back into the enclave. I didn't doubt for one second that she would move there in a heartbeat if she could.

The guys dug in. I picked at my food, waiting for the right time. When they went for a second serving, I stood.

The guys stopped with their arms and plates in the air and looked at me.

"I need to use the bathroom," I explained. "Be right back."

They resumed serving themselves, and I walked into the hallway. From there, only my chair around the table was visible, not the others. Careful, I opened the door of the half-bath in the hallway and closed it. Then, holding my breath, I tiptoed to the living room. I had debated going out through my bedroom window, but then I would have to jump down and I would probably twist my foot, if not break it, doing so. I also thought about using the front door, but I was afraid that wouldn't be as quiet as I wanted it to be. So, before meeting my mother in the kitchen and asking if she would help me cook for the guys, I stopped by the living room and opened a window. I took off the screen, and then closed the curtains over it, praying there was no wind blowing from outside and that no one looked too closely.

I slipped my flip-flops off, picked up the ballet flats I had left hidden behind the couch, and quickly ducked under the window, stepping on the porch as quietly as I could. Then I tiptoed down the porch steps and, once on the concrete, I slipped on my shoes and ran down the driveway.

Ellie's car was parked two houses over—I had been afraid they would hear it, especially with the front window open.

I didn't have long before they noticed I was gone, so I ran faster and slipped inside her car.

"What happened?" she asked me, her eyes narrowed.

"Go," I rasped, out of breath. "I'll explain, but now just go."

She drove away. "What's up with that?"

I glanced back through the rearview mirror. Nothing yet. "Let's just say I'm under house arrest right now. I had to sneak out."

"Uh-oh. What did you do?"

"Nothing." That wasn't technically a lie since I hadn't done anything. The alchemists were the problem.

"You're under house arrest and you did nothing? That doesn't sound right."

She turned right on the first road, going around the block, like she said we would. Artan and Sloan would soon realize I wasn't there. They would start scouting everywhere, and they would find me in a matter of minutes.

"You can leave the subdivision. That way it'll be harder for them to find me."

"Them? Who is looking for you?"

I shook my head. "It's a long story." Then I stared at her. "Let's talk about you first. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Her hands tightening around the wheel, Ellie drove past the subdivision's entrance and into a busy road.

"Can you hold this, please?" She showed me her closed fist.

On instinct, I placed my hands under hers. "What is it?"

She opened her hand and a green stone the size of my thumb fell in my palms. The moment it touched my skin, nausea revolved in my stomach, my vision blurred, and my head felt like it was filled with cotton balls. Like I had drunk all the tequila in the bar.

"What's happening?" I asked, but my words were slurred. I tried lifting my arms, dropping the stone, but my body wouldn't, couldn't move. "What's... h-happening," I rasped.

I didn't know what happened. I didn't know if Ellie answered or not. I didn't know if she was still driving. With my body numb and my vision blurred and even my hearing impaired, I didn't know anything.

Panic threatened to explode in me.

I sent out my senses—I couldn't. My senses were as numb as my body.

Panic flared in me.

I didn't know how long I had been a prisoner inside my own body and mind, but finally, the stone was snatched from my hand and I could see again. I could hear again. I could move again.

Before I could take in what was happening, a heavy, clammy hand closed around my wrist and tugged me out of the car.

"What...?"

I gasped. The big man who hauled me out of Ellie's car was wearing only black, had a bald head, and a mask covering the lower part of his face.

My knees gave out; my heart froze.

Another alchemist as big as the first one appeared by my side, and they both held on to my arms. I jerked against their hold, but they were at least three times my size, and there were two of them. I could do nothing to get free.

They started dragging me forward and that was when I looked up. A huge house spread in front of me. Four stories, reddish brick walls, balconies, large windows covered by beige curtains.

Then, as if this was all normal, Ellie marched past me, past the brutes. She climbed the front steps as the double doors opened.

A man with a shaved head, but no mask, stepped out. He was too thin and too pale, and his lips dark, almost black. I shuddered. Like a mummy, Ellie halted in front of him.

The man didn't acknowledge her. Instead, he stared at me. He opened his arms wide, a big smile spreading over his lips. "Dear Mirella. Welcome to my home."

# 24

I was dragged into the house.

The moment I crossed the open doors, a strong wave of pain hit me, making me breathless, and I fell on my knees.

I was barely aware of the door closing and the people surrounding me.

"So glad you're here, Mirella," the man said. "I'm William."

The pain settled, becoming just a dull ache in my muscles, and I looked up. William stood among five other alchemists, all wearing masks, in the center of a foyer. Behind him, cowered in a corner, Ellie cried.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered between sobs. "I couldn't help it."

"Yes, yes." William waved her off. "She couldn't help but bring you here."

I shook my head, not following. "W-what?"

"She was under my influence," William said.

Influence. What the hell. Now, I thought I was under the influence. Of alcohol or some drug.

"What... what was that green stone?"

"A little elixir to keep you dizzy. In subtle pain. To numb your powers. The basics."

The basics. Did he think he was funny? I would give him funny.

I tried standing up, but a new wave of pain assaulted me. On all fours, I yelled as my body jerked, trying to push the pain away.

Then it hit me.

I could go with the basic what-do-you-want-with-me question, but I wasn't stupid. I knew what they wanted with me. My power, my blood, and my heart.

Shit.

Panic rose in my chest as I realized I was trapped inside a fort of a house with a bunch of alchemists. Many options of how they could end my life flooded my mind, and I almost gagged.

"Take her to the lab," William said.

Seconds later, the two brutes had their hands around my arms again. They pulled me up and dragged me forward.

I thrashed around, trying to break free, but I was weakened by waves of pain.

"Bring her too." He pointed to Ellie.

Ellie yelped as an alchemist walked over to her.

"No, leave her alone," I spoke up. "She already did what you wanted. Now let her go."

"Not likely," William said. "She will come with us, in case you give us a hard time."

Shit.

We were pushed through a long corridor, a door, down four sets of stairs, another darker corridor, and through a metal door.

Brightness hurt my eyes once we entered a cold room. When my sight adjusted to the new light, I discovered we were brought to a large lab-like-room, stark white, with too many lamps, a dozen hospital beds, equipment and machines, steel desks with utensils and tiny bottles, and an alchemist dressed in a white coat—without his mask. His lips were as dark as William's.

A man stood in the center, dressed in an expensive brown suit and smoking a cigar. When he noticed the commotion, he approached me. His white-blond hair was gelled back, and his gray eyes were small and shrewd. No shaved head, no mask, no dark lips.

No doubt, this man was the boss.

"So you are Mirella." He puffed a cloud of smoke in my face. "Finally, we meet."

If I weren't being held with my arms behind my back, I would have pushed that cigar inside his mouth and laughed while he choked on it.

"We brought the other one too, sir," William said, gesturing to Ellie, "for leverage."

"Good thinking," the chimney man said without taking his eyes off of me. His free hand reached up and he picked up one of my curls. "My, oh, my, you're beautiful." His fingers slid from my hair to my cheek. I flinched from his touch. "I'll be almost sad to use you."

"Don't touch me," I snarled. Damn, how I wish I could kick his ass.

He took a long draw from his cigar. "I don't think you know who I am." He puffed another cloud of smoke toward me. I did my best not to cough. "I'm Jonathan Ophir. The owner of this lovely property."

"Do I look like I care?" I jerked around, kicking the air between us, wishing it would hit him.

"I get the impression you won't cooperate." Still looking at me, he snapped his fingers. Knowing what the signal meant, William held Ellie's arm and brought her closer to me. Poor girl, she was shaking hard. "I'll say this once, so pay attention. If you so much as struggle against my men again, your friend here will pay." Shit. Ellie's panicked eyes met mine and my heart broke. She was so, so scared. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said, afraid that if I hesitated, they would hurt Ellie.

"Good." He smiled at me, a large but fake grin. Turning to the doctor, he said, "You can prepare her now." He pointed to William and a large black guy. "You two stay here. Use the other girl if our prestigious guest gives you a hard time. The rest come with me." With elegant strides, he leaned closer to me. "I'll be back soon. We'll have so much fun."

Before I could spit in his face, Jonathan and his band marched out, leaving Ellie and me with two of his bodyguards and a doctor.

The black guy held my arms and pushed me toward one of the beds, while William held Ellie back, and the doctor played with sharp utensils and syringes.

Without fighting—why would I when the huge man before me was about three times my size?—I lay on the reclined bed, my mind working overtime, thinking about possibilities, searching for escape routes, considering insane plans.

Fear and desperation dripped from Ellie's mind, making it hard for me to focus on my thoughts and try to find a solution for us.

Her mind.

My mind.

My senses weren't as numb anymore.

As I closed my eyes, I hoped the doctor didn't start playing with me yet. I sent my senses out, out and far away.

To Theron.

Adding to my own desperation, he wasn't at the ranch. Shit. How could I search for him through all corners of Broken Hill? And what if he wasn't in Broken Hill? I didn't have time for this.

I took a deep breath and thought where he could have gone. A hunch told me I knew where he was and with whom.

My lucky guess was right, and I found him in front of my house. I felt the presence of more tziganes, but couldn't tell who they were. I only knew Theron's mind well. Not wasting any more of my precious seconds, I burst inside his mind and tried to flood him with my agony and helplessness. A second later, his worry assaulted me and I was shocked by how strong this feeling was.

A cold prickling in my arm brought me back to the lab room. The doctor was rubbing a wet cotton ball on my arm.

"When tziganes close their eyes, they're trying to reach out, find help," he said, a European accent to his words. He now wore a doctor's white mask, covering his dark lips. "But you see, this place is secured and charmed. No tzigane can reach out."

Say what? How had I reached out, then?

I couldn't worry about that yet. Now that Theron knew I was in danger, I had to buy time until he figured out where I was and arrived with the cavalry.

When the doctor went back to the steel table and held up a syringe, a wave of cold ran through my body. Shit.

"So," I started, "want to tell me what preparing me entails?"

The doctor flicked at the syringe, making sure the liquid was ready. I swallowed a lump of fear.

"Not really," he said.

"So you won't tell me what that thing does?" I pointed my chin to the syringe.

He shrugged. "This isn't preparing you. Not yet. This is a light tranquilizer so you won't fight us when we start."

Shit, did that mean whatever they were going to do would be painful?

I glanced around, thinking, looking, hoping. I found Ellie's wide eyes. She had stopped crying, but she was still shaking. If only the two of us could take three. If only I could tell her ... once more, my stupidity astounded me. I hoped I was only stupid when terrorized; otherwise, damn, I didn't deserve to have these powers.

For the first time, I reached into someone's mind without closing my eyes, in case the doctor suspected what I was doing. With my eyes locked on hers, I entered her mind. She gasped.

"What is it?" William asked, tightening the grip on her arm.

"No-nothing," she muttered, cowering from him.

Willing my thoughts in the right direction, I tried to pass on to her the feeling of what I wanted to do. To attack them. It didn't matter how. Even if we had to use nails and teeth. We had to try.

When she gave me the slightest nod, I almost cried in relief. She had understood me. She was on my side.

The doctor's hand on my arm made me jump. Instantly, the black guy glared at me, his fists ready for service.

The doctor waved him off and extended my arm.

"Are you sure that's necessary?" I asked. I had made Ellie agree to attack, but I had no idea how and when.

Well, it had to be now, before the doctor drugged me.

The needle touched my skin and I reacted. I kicked the doctor in the chest, sending him back, grabbed the syringe from his hand before he fell and, when the black guy lunged for me, I spun on him and drove the syringe into his throat. He fell on his knees, and I didn't know if it was from the stab or from the tranquilizer.

William threw Ellie on the floor and charged at me. I ran to the other side of the bed, but he jumped over it and landed a hard punch on my cheek. I stumbled sideways, cringing in pain as stars blinded me for a moment. Shit, it hurt!

I leaned against the steel table, trying to recover fast as he came for me again. I retreated, putting the table before me. That was when I saw them. Steel utensils on a tray, including scalpels. I grabbed one and charged him. He prepared for a punch, but his hand met the scalpel. William howled, his huge eyes fixed on his bleeding hand. I pulled the scalpel back and stabbed him again, this time in the stomach. He doubled over, his good hand over the new wound.

Shit, how many times did I need to stab him before he fainted?

Ellie appeared by my side, a silver tray in her hands. She slammed it down on William's head and he fell on the floor, out cold.

"Good one," I said.

She nodded, still shaking.

We turned to the doctor, who had crawled into a corner, behind a table.

"Please, don't kill me," he begged, his tone shaken.

I didn't want to kill him or anyone. I just wanted to get out of here.

On one of the tables, I found the tranquilizer liquid. I pulled a new syringe from the table drawer, filled it with the liquid, and gave it to him.

"Inject that into your vein," I ordered, the scalpel still in my hand, poised to stab him if necessary. As he hesitated, I picked up another scalpel and pointed it at him. "Do it, or you'll ended up like the others."

With shaking hands, he injected the tranquilizer into his arm. Soon, his body relaxed and he slid to the floor.

"Light tranquilizer?" Ellie asked, disdain marking her trembling voice.

"We should go." I grabbed her hand and we darted out of the lab. "Let's be careful," I whispered to her once we were out into the dark corridor. "We don't know how many there are and where they are."

In the darkness, we tiptoed our way up the stairs without complications. However, once out the other corridor, we heard voices. Shit. Pressing ourselves to the wall, we tiptoed to the door that led to the ample foyer and waited behind the door, spying on what was happening.

Jonathan descended the stairs as one of his bodyguards opened the front door.

A man arrived. He looked confident. Followed by a little girl. She looked terrified. And I knew them both.

Phillip and Annie.

# 25

My heart stopped for a long beat, then went into overdrive.

What the hell were they doing here?

No, no, no.

"Just in time," Jonathan said before greeting Phillip.

"Good," he answered, his voice cold. Detached. A far cry from the one I remembered. "I don't want to miss this event."

"I know. None of us want to miss it." He moved to greet Annie, who recoiled behind her father's leg. "Still wary, child?"

"Yes," Phillip answered for her. "To keep her calm, I have to give her lots of elixirs."

Elixirs? To Annie? What the hell was going on?

"That won't matter if we succeed," Jonathan said, returning his attention to Phillip.

Phillip took off his jacket and threw it to one of the brutes standing guard. "If we succeed, this will be a historical day for alchemists."

My heart dropped. He... he was an alchemist? That couldn't be.

"Historical day followed by a bright future," Jonathan said, his arms opened to his sides. "I can't wait to start. One of ours is preparing her. Come join me for a drink before we head down." He gestured for Phillip to follow him to a room to the left.

"Are they talking about you?" Ellie whispered in my ear.

"I have no idea," I whispered back.

"What do we have here?" I jumped and Ellie yelped as an alchemist approached us from the other side of the corridor. He extended his arm and a shadow dagger appeared in his hand. His eyes meant trouble. "Come on. Through that door. Now."

Without choice, we walked into the foyer, stunning all six alchemists.

"Ms. Reyes!" Annie yelled before running to me.

I opened my arms and caught her up. "Hello, sweet bun."

"These are bad men," she whispered to me. "You shouldn't be here."

"What about your father?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide. "He isn't my father."

What?

"But... the way you are with him..."

"Not my choice. They made me do it. With elixirs."

The alchemists surrounded us, their shadow daggers pointed at us, just as Phillip turned toward us. I gasped, taking in his dark, dark eyes and the black lips. How...?

"Now, that's a surprise," Jonathan declared with an amused smile. "Did you escape two of my best alchemists and a doctor by yourself?" I didn't answer. "Remarkable."

"Annie," Phillip said, "come to me."

The girl wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head in my hair.

"What is going on?" I asked Phillip, feeling bold and protective of Annie. "What do you want with her?"

"Wanted," he said, emphasizing the past tense. "I thought she was the tzigane we were looking for. When we found out she wasn't, we used her unique powers to find you. Then, we used her sweet face to approach you."

I shook my head once. "You knew I was a tzigane from the beginning?"

"Yes."

I inhaled deeply. Shit. "So, why not just kill me and get it over with?"

Beside me, Ellie flinched.

A lazy smile spread over Phillip's dark lips. Lips I had kissed. Lips I had desired. Now, they disgusted me. "Because we had to confirm you weren't the one." He glanced at Annie, that grin still on his mouth. My stomach revolved. "Right, sweetheart?"

"Ms. Reyes isn't the one," she said, firm. "I don't sense any special power in her."

A knot formed in my mind. It was too much, too many questions forming. But I could ask them. I could ask them all, after all, I had to stall to give Theron time to find me.

"So..." I started, pretending innocence over the disgust I felt. "I don't understand. You... but you pretended to like me. You kissed me."

"Hardships that come with the work." He shrugged. "Annie's powers told us we were close, but every time we seemed to get closer, the threads disappeared. Meanwhile, it was fun to play with you." I growled. "Did you like my necklace?"

My hand shot to my neck. I had taken the necklace off last week after Stefano had been killed. Killed by these alchemists. Because he had a scarf of mine.

"What...?"

He tilted his head. "You haven't figured it out yet?" He scoffed. "Mirella, that necklace had an elixir inside. It made you feel... more when you were with me. It made you like me, desire me, and become more compliant. It made you sense things that weren't there. Like my deep desire and want for you. My pure soul and noble intentions. All fake. Just like the contact lenses that made my eyes blue and the illusion over my lips. All so you would buy into my game."

Each of his words made my chest hurt more and more.

"W-why?"

"Annie and I needed to get close to you to investigate."

"Investigate what?"

Phillip glanced at Jonathan. "She's new to the tzigane traditions and legends. She has no idea what we're talking about."

Jonathan shrugged. "It doesn't matter now. She doesn't need to know what we have planned for her. Just take her and start it already."

"Let's go," Phillip ordered.

One big alchemist stepped toward us and Annie tightened her hold on me. "Please, don't let them take me. I don't want to go with them anymore." Tears swelled in her arms. "Please, don't leave."

My heart stopped.

_Please, don't leave._

I pressed her tighter against me and retreated two steps. "Stay back!"

From somewhere behind the brute, Phillip and Jonathan laughed.

Annie pressed her face to my shoulder. "Please, don't leave me. Not like my mom did."

I gasped as the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fit together.

Annie had powers. She was a tzigane too. She was taken when young by these alchemists. And I knew a mother, a tzigane woman, who was missing her daughter.

"Annie is Maire's kid," I said out loud.

"And you're clever too," Jonathan said. "I truly resent what we have to do with you. Phillip, use the necklace."

Phillip, stepped closer, taking a necklace from his pocket, a similar necklace with a green stone pendant, just like the stone Ellie had handed me in her car. He held it at arm's length, pointing it to me as he approached us.

On instinct, I retreated, but halted when I realized three more alchemists had come out from the door behind us, fully surrounding us.

"You have nowhere to go," Phillip said, only three feet from us.

A jolt ran through my arm. Then another. And another. Ticklish at first, painful later. The jolts sent spasms through my shoulders, into my chest. I crouched, letting Annie slide from my arms, my mind spinning as my insides melted into boiling goo. My breathing became shallow and my vision blurred.

"That's enough." I heard Jonathan's voice. "Take her down again. With at least eight of you. Tie her to the bed this time."

The jolts and the pain paused for a few seconds, and I saw Annie with eyes closed and Phillip on his knees, the necklace on the floor.

Jonathan reached for the necklace, but Ellie got it first.

"Keep it away from me," I mumbled. Fighting the remaining pain, I stood.

Two alchemists charged us.

Pain? What pain? There was no time to feel pain. I closed my eyes and invaded one of the alchemists' minds. I encountered a hard brick wall, but I was determined. I conjured a sledgehammer and brought his walls down. I focused on his pain, on excruciating pain, on not being able to breathe kind of pain. When I let go, the guy was jerking on the floor, his hands on his temples.

Ellie grabbed his shadowy dagger while I did the same pain trick with the other alchemist, and Annie attacked three others. At the same time.

I was drained, my energy and power slipping from me with each passing second.

Phillip opened his hand and his shadow dagger appeared. I rushed for his mind. That stopped him for a minute. His walls were up and my stamina waned considerably as I pushed against him. I couldn't break in.

I fell again, my breathing unsteady. Phillip recommenced his attack as Theron, Artan, Sloan, Ramon, Shay, Jaime, Oscar, Neil, Dolan, Cora, Rye, and Nico broke down the door and invaded the foyer.

As if sensing trouble, more alchemists came from the back, instantly pulling Jonathan and Phillip behind them.

A messy battle started and the foyer became a war zone.

Tziganes versus alchemists, and Ellie crouched beside me, still yielding the dagger, but clueless about what to do with it.

Among the fighters, Theron and Artan caught my blurred attention. They moved like wild cats, dancing with their enemies, swift and fatal. Even though they were killing, and I despised killing, it was beautiful to watch. If for whatever reason they had to fight each other, I would never be able to guess who would win.

I lost my vision of them when my hair was pulled back, forcing me to stand on my knees and tilt my head back. Ellie grabbed my shoulders, but a hand flew to her face, and she fell on the floor.

Phillip whispered in my ear, "It seems our plans will be delayed." Then I gasped when agonizing pain shot up from my lower back. Shaking, I reached down and fingered a dagger up to the hilt in my left side.

My sight went black and I fell against Phillip's arms. He pulled the dagger out—I howled—and placed something against my back. With my yell, Artan, who seemed closer in my poor line of sight, dropped a half-dead Jonathan and ran to me.

Busy with whatever he was doing to my back, Phillip didn't see when Artan pulled him up by his throat and pierced his sword in the alchemist's chest.

A couple of alchemists, seeing their leader and Phillip had been killed, jumped Artan, but Neil and Dolan had come to his aid and fought our foes. Artan knelt by my side and pulled me to him.

"I've got you," he said. I was really dying because I had imagined his voice was almost soft. "Hang in there." He touched my back, his fingers light against the wound, and I felt his power drifting into me.

Soon, there was another hand over Artan's, and another, and another, and all their powers flooded me. Like I had received a shot of adrenaline, I felt alive. Not whole, but alive and much less weak.

The hands left me, and I pulled away from Artan's chest.

"What did you do?" I asked, fingering my back. The wound was there, but it seemed to have been mended somehow.

"We were able to stop the bleeding for now," Theron answered from behind me. One of the hands had been his. "It won't hold for long."

Standing beside his son, Dolan watched me with clouded eyes. "We need a healer."

"We should take you to my _puri daj_ ," Artan said. "She's the best healer in the region."

I wasn't a fan of the old hag, but I nodded.

I glanced over his shoulder. Tziganes up, alchemists down. A few of ours were injured, but nothing grave.

I was about to turn and check on the progress behind me, when I caught sight of Phillip's body at Artan's feet. I pointed at him. "What was he doing?"

Artan picked up a glass pitcher behind him. "This." It was filled with blood. My blood.

I felt sick.

Before I could gag, a burnt smell made my nose wrinkle and I looked for the source. To my right, Annie, with her arms raised over her head and her blue eyes turned white, had four alchemists held in a circle of fire. Besides controlling the closing fire, she had the men's mind too. They writhed on the floor, as if she was consuming their organs. Just as watching Theron and Artan fighting seemed like a beautiful dance, watching Annie, my little sweet bun, inflicting such pain and creating such power, was disturbing.

With a wave of her hand, she opened the circle of fire, extended it, and enclosed another alchemist inside it.

All the while, the tzigane warriors gawked at her.

I scrambled to her. "Annie, stop it." She seemed out of it. "Stop it, sweet bun. It's over. We won."

The fire grew and advanced.

"Annie." Theron knelt beside her. "You can stop now."

The fire engulfed the men at the center, whose howls made my skin crawl.

Dizziness danced in my head. "Please, sweet bun, stop," I pleaded, my voice thick with tears.

The fire reached the window and the curtains and the rug on the stairs.

My legs gave out and I leaned against Theron.

Ellie came to her. "Annie, look at me." She placed her hands over Annie's arms and lowered them, then turned the girl toward her. "Stop it. Okay. For me. For Mirella."

The white in Annie's eyes gave out and they fixed on me. She gasped, as if just now realizing what she had done. Tears rolled down her face.

She embraced my legs. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I embraced her back. I tried pulling her into my arms, but I was too weak.

Noticing my state, Theron examined my wound. "It's holding up." He passed one of my arms around his waist and supported me. "We need to go."

Ellie picked Annie up, and with the other tziganes, we left the burning mansion.

# 26

Thank goodness Theron was the one to carry me out of the alchemists' house. Even under Artan and Oscar's protests, he didn't let go of me, until we were in my house, with my mother freaking out over me. This way, Darcy had to come to me. If they had taken me to Lovell, I was sure I would never be allowed out.

During Darcy's healing session, Maire came to pick up her daughter. I cried with them when Annie ran to her mother's arms and they hugged. Darcy, though, remained still and cold like an old hag.

"This will do," Darcy said, rubbing off the smelly paste she used on the wound on my back. "Just take it easy for a few days." She stood and put her things away, back inside her oversized bag. "I did my best, but I can't heal off the scar that will mark your skin."

A scar? Shit.

I let go of the ice pack I had pressed against my face, where the alchemist had punched me, and I brought my fingers down my back, but a bandage prevented me from feeling it.

As Darcy turned to leave, Ellie entered the living room, carrying two teacups.

"Here," she said, giving one to me and sitting beside me on the couch. "Does it hurt?" She glanced at my bandage.

I lowered my blouse. "Only when I move abruptly."

Since leaving the mansion, about six hours earlier, we hadn't exchanged more than a few words. First, because there were always people around me, asking what happened and how I was. And to tell me how stupid I had been to sneak out with Ellie. Artan and Theron had been the most vocal of all, expressing their discontent loudly.

Second, because I was scared Ellie would freak out and ignore me again.

So, I sipped from my tea, itching against the silent tension in the room.

"I'm so, so sorry," she whispered, after a long while. "I had no control over my actions." Her eyes gleamed with tears. "I was leaving the library yesterday afternoon when that guy, William, approached me asking directions to the bookstore. I didn't think much of it, until he put me under a spell. I tried fighting it, but it was impossible. It was like I was locked inside my own mind."

I took her hand. "It's okay. And I'm sorry, too. You wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me. If I had been able to stay away from you." She shook her head as tears spilled from her eyes. I passed my arms over her shoulders and pulled her close. "You still think I'm a freak?"

A hollow chuckle slipped between sobs. "A little. But I guess I can get used to this freak." She bumped her elbow into my ribs and I winced in pain. "Sorry, sorry." She pulled back and examined the bandage on my back. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine. I'll be fine." At least, I hoped I would.

When we finished our tea, Ellie went to the kitchen to refill our cups.

That was when Theron entered the room with Maire and Annie, closely secured in her mother's arms. My heart warmed each time I saw them together.

"Theron is going to take us home," Maire said. "I just wanted to thank you."

"Please, there's nothing to thank me for. I didn't do anything." I tried getting up, but a prickling of pain sent me back to the couch.

Theron tsked. "Just stay quiet, woman. You need to rest."

"Anyway," Maire continued, "thank you. I guess I'll see you tomorrow night at the ritual."

I glanced to Theron. What ritual? "Yeah, sure."

When Maire stepped toward the door, Annie disentangled herself from her mother's arms and ran to me. I did my best to stifle a yell when her weight crushed me against the seat and pain shot through my back.

"Thank you," the girl whispered in my ear. "Thank you for not leaving."

My heart warmed. I kissed her cheek, and she ran out with her mother.

Alone with Theron, I didn't waste time. "What ritual?"

"It was just decided," he said, his arms up in truce. "During the fight, Annie demonstrated a great display of power. Much more than she should be able to do at her age. Much more than any of us are able to do." He shifted his weight, a little uncomfortable. "Both rom baros and the elders' from Lovell talked, and they all think Annie is the next Heart Maiden."

"Say what?" I wasn't following. "What's the Heart Maiden?"

Theron sat beside me. "Once upon a time, a girl from a Romani enclave found a special flower, the Heart Flower. The Romani made a tea with the petals of this flower and gained powers. They became the first tziganes. And this girl was named the Heart Maiden, because only she could find the flowers. Hundreds of years passed, the tziganes population grew, and for some reason, no one knows why, one enclave decided they would stop searching for the Heart Flower. Slowly, their powers lessened, until they disappeared, and soon after everyone in the enclave was sick. Sick and dying."

"But... why?"

"It's said that our blood, our soul, became one with the powers the flower gave us. Without feeding that power, we become sick and die." I gasped. Theron went on. "Each time a Heart Maiden died, another one would show up, normally at a different enclave. However, for almost two hundred years, there has been no Heart Maiden."

"Why?"

"We don't know. Damara, the girl from that tapestry you saw at Bellville, was the last Heart Maiden. She died young, and there has never been another Heart Maiden. It's nearly impossible to track where the Heart Flower will show up next without the Heart Maiden's powers."

"And Annie is this Heart Maiden?"

"We think so. She was able to create fire with her mind. No other tzigane can do that other than the Heart Maiden. It's not known in our thousands-year-old history."

"And the ritual tomorrow night? What's it about?"

"To test Annie and see if she really is the Heart Maiden. And, if she is, we celebrate." He was serious for once. "You have no idea how important this is for us."

"I'm trying to understand how important it is." I mean, if they didn't have it, they would die. It seemed important. A question popped in my mind. "For these last two hundred years, how did the enclaves survive without the flower?"

"We go out every once in a while and just... search for it."

I gaped. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly that. We get some warriors ready and go out in the forest and look for it."

"And you just find it?"

He shook his head. "Ninety-nine percent of time, we don't. We have been living with a minimum of power for a long time."

That was crazy. To me, the tziganes were already powerful, but turned out what I had seen wasn't their full capacity? With this flower, they would be unstoppable.

Another question surged into my mind. "And how is Lovell about it?" After all, Maire is a Bellville tzigane, meaning Annie was now headed to Bellville.

"Well." Theron stiffened. "They asked for a truce. The ceremony will be held at their enclave."

"Won't they try to hold Annie there?"

"They promised they won't, but they asked to be included in our activities. In return, they will help us and protect us, when needed." He stood. "We're still working out the details."

"So tomorrow we'll go to Lovell?"

"Yup." He walked to the front door, from where he stopped and looked at me. "You know, Damara was a member of Lovell. Her death was what broke us in two enclaves, almost two hundred years ago." Say what? Now that was interesting. "Not that I think my enclave needs Lovell, but it would be nice to have peace within the tziganes again. Maybe Annie as the new Heart Maiden can unify us again." Then he offered me a small smile. "See you tomorrow."

And he left.

Sinking back on the couch, I tried to wrap my mind around everything. Despite all the things swimming in my head, one topic tugged stronger than the others.

It was done. The alchemists following me, attacking my friends, attacking me—it was done. They had all been eliminated last night.

I let out a long, relieved breath.

I could go back to school and the dance studio and reconnect with Ellie now. I knew the enclaves would still ask me to join them or keep a low profile, which I didn't mind. If it meant I had my life back, if I made my own rules, I didn't mind.

Finally, I was free.

My mother drove us to Lovell. It was odd, seeing her drive there without the use of a GPS or help of a map. She hadn't set foot in this place for over twenty years, and yet, the serene smile on her lips told me she was content. To her, it was like coming home.

Even if, after the warriors opened the stone gates for us, one of them told her she had to wait by the main house until someone came to pick her up for the ritual. Since it was a historical day for the tziganes, she would be allowed to witness it.

My mother sat on a deep-cushioned chair and offered me an encouraging smile. I didn't feel too good about leaving her alone here.

"Go on," she said, beckoning toward the door.

I showed her my cell phone was in the back pocket of my jeans. "Call me if you need me."

"Will do," she promised.

I walked out the main house as Ryane was coming up the stairs. Like before, she was pure tzigane with a long skirt, a blouse with lace details, and lots of jewelry. A brown bandana was tied around her head, keeping her hair back, and emphasizing her pretty face.

She smiled at me. "There you are. Feeling better?"

I pressed a hand to my back, where the bandage was. "A little." As for the black mark on my cheek, it was still sore, but at least I could hide it with makeup.

She linked her arm through mine. "Then let's go."

The square looked as alive and decorated as the other time I had been here, if not more. It pulsated with energy, power, and tension. Everyone here was expectant. Anxious. Hopeful.

Ryane pulled me to a group of women who talked animatedly about their lives and hobbies. Their eyes fell on me. Instantly, they bombarded me with questions: how it was to live outside, how it was to live not knowing what I was until now, where had I lived, had I gone to many parties, how strong were my powers, how were the attacks against me, and finally, what had happened at the alchemists' mansion.

My voice kept breaking down while I tried to tell them a little about it all.

Beside us, Ryane had gone silent and still. I followed her gaze and saw Artan and Oscar crossing an arch into the square. A long, polished wooden box rested in Oscar's hands.

More people arrived in the square, and everyone formed a circle around the open back vurdon that had been parked in the middle of the square.

Finally, the Bellville enclave arrived. Neil, Sheila, Dolan, Theron, Ramon, Jaime, Shay, Nico, Cora, and Rye stood in the back, their backs straight, their chins high.

Annie, in Maire's arms, looked like a mini Greek goddess, with a simple but elegant white dress and white flowers in her hair. Her eyes were huge, a little scared and expectant.

As Oscar deposited the wooden box over the vurdon, which now I understood was supposed to act as a stage or dais, Darcy and my mother came into the square. They stood in the back, as if my mother was still not welcomed here.

My attention—along with everyone else's—shifted to the center of the circle, where Maire put Annie on the ground and took her to the vurdon.

"Go now," Maire said, pushing her gently.

One awkward step after another, Annie went up the front of the vurdon, her huge eyes on the box. She reached to the box, her hands shaking, and opened it. A flower lay alone on the velvet interior of the box. The heart-shaped, red flower.

The Heart Flower.

Annie froze.

"Go on, child," Oscar said from behind her.

But Annie didn't move. With unsure eyes, she glanced around, seeming lost and scared. Her eyes fixed on mine.

"What does she have to do?" I asked in a low whisper to Ryane.

"She has to pick up the flower," Ryane answered, equally low.

That was it? And why didn't anyone help?

I walked to her, up in the vurdon.

"Hey, sweet bun." I crouched beside her. "Do you know what you have to do?" Annie nodded. "Then why don't you just pick the flower up?" She stared at the shiny flower, her eyes bigger and bigger. "All right." I stood and grabbed the flower, extending it toward Annie.

The whole square gasped at the same time, sounding like a humongous animal.

"By Saint Sara-la-Kali," Oscar whispered, his hands pressed together.

"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious for being under everyone's huge eyes. "What is it?"

"My dear." Her face blanched, Sheila made her way to the front and stepped closer to the vurdon. "Give the flower to Annie."

As if that wasn't my intention. I jerked my already extended arm to Annie, but she shook her head. "It's okay, sweet bun. You can take it now." Trying to help her, I grabbed her arm, pulled it to me, and placed the flower on her open palm. Instantly, the flower melted into a red liquid that vaporized before reaching the ground. "What the hell?"

" _You_ are the Heart Maiden," Sheila said, her words breaking as her eyes filled with tears.

I gasped, sure I hadn't heard her right. "What?"

"Only the Heart Maiden can touch the flower," Oscar explained, his face alight. "It melts whenever it's touched by others."

My heart thundered in my chest. "You're kidding."

"We don't kid about these matters," Darcy said, stepping out of the crowd.

"But ..." My mind was spinning. How could I be the Heart Maiden? "But my powers aren't strong. You can ask Sheila." I gestured toward her, who was smiling at me. "And the fire thing. It was Annie."

"True," Oscar said, probably remembering he was there and saw it all. "Annie." He turned to the girl. "How did you control all those alchemists and conjure the fire?"

Annie, with a relieved expression, shrugged. "I can sense and channel the power of others. I just channeled Ms. Reyes's power."

My stomach dropped.

It made sense. During the fight, whenever she had cast a spell, I felt weaker and weaker.

I was still in shock when Sheila stepped up on the vurdon and reached under the neck of my blouse.

"Hey," I complained before she could expose my bra to the public.

She unhooked the safety pin from my bra, grabbed the pendant, and then looked to my mother on the edge of the square. "What spells did you put in here?"

My mother pressed her lips tight before answering, "Protection and anti-tracking spells." She shifted her weight and looked at her feet. "And an inhibitor."

Another general gasp, and another revealed lie from my dear mother.

That was why the alchemists hadn't been able to track me. Because I had been protected by the pendant. However, my things—my bracelets, my sweatshirt, my book, my scarf—none of that was protected, and that was what the alchemists tracked. That one time they got me outside the club had been a sad coincidence.

Without ceremony, Sheila opened the pendant, took the small receptacle with red liquid, and squashed it under her foot.

I fell on my knees as an intense wave hit me, shaking my body, making me breathless and momentarily blind. A tingling sensation crawled from my chest down to all parts of my body, setting every one of my cells alive, charging it with pure, intense, alive power.

Not much registered after that.

I saw my mother, Artan, and Theron approaching. I saw the crowd closing in. I heard cheering shouts, I heard some people asking me if I was all right, I heard others talking about arrangements for my future, including where I should move to, choosing my protectors, and a no-wedding rule.

My will was to argue, to tell them to go to hell for making decisions about me without even asking me, but the hundreds of explosions inside my body won over, and my mind slipped into darkness.

# 27

"What do you want for dinner?" my mother asked.

"I don't know," I answered. With the remote control, I changed the channel on the TV again. Since the ritual the previous day, nothing looked good.

When I woke up from my dizzy spell, I was in Ryane's room. Oscar and Darcy talked to me about my duties as Heart Maiden. I should be able to find the flowers whenever they appeared. Apparently, they could sprout anywhere in the globe and we had to get to them quick, before they faded or before alchemists did. Because of these dangerous missions, I should practice with my magic so I could protect myself.

Also, because I was too valuable, I would be protected every second of every day—that earned me another lecture about ditching Artan and leaving with Ellie the night of the fight. Okay, I hated the idea of having eyes on me all the time, but now I understood how badly it could end. As they explained, more alchemists would come for me now.

Of course, they insisted I should live in the Lovell enclave. For a moment, I thought they would lock me in there. Only after promising I would think about it, they let me go back to my house—with a dozen warriors.

What pushed my buttons though was the no-wedding rule. Not that I wanted to get married. Actually, I couldn't see myself married, but I didn't want others deciding my future for me. However, they emphasized this was an important rule, to preserve my purity and my powers. Ha! I almost laughed in their faces. They really thought I was still _pure_? Nevertheless, I let them think whatever they wanted. I wouldn't be the one to spoil the party.

As a reminder of the imposed deal, Artan walked past the living room door, patrolling the inside of the house, as he did every thirty minutes. Somewhere outside, Sloan prowled around, on lookout, along with Tomas and Leander and others I didn't know yet.

"Aren't you hungry for something?" my mother asked. "How about homemade goulash?"

She wouldn't leave me alone if I didn't agree to something. "Okay."

"Good." She slipped off the couch and scurried to the kitchen.

Relieved at being left alone, even if for a few seconds, I sprawled on the couch and closed my eyes. If only my powers could erase everything, go back in time, to the day I was oblivious to all of this, back to my old life. I preferred when I didn't know anything about my origin and my destiny.

After Sheila had broken the spells from the pendant, my powers had increased tenfold. But they were unstable. It was too much for me, too fast. So, once we were back home, my mother gave me a little of the inhibitor elixir—just enough to quiet down my powers until I learned how to control them.

"How are you?" Artan asked. I glanced at him. He was stationed at the doorway, his hand around the hilt of his sword, confidence and braveness spilling in gallons all around him.

I flipped the channel again, ignoring his question since the answer should be stamped on my face.

He took a step closer. Then another. "Mirella..."

The urgency in his tone grabbed my attention and I sat up on the couch, looking at him again. "What?"

He stared at me with those depthless eyes, so hard and so serious, for a long moment. I probably imagined the tone of his voice before. He cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Tell me about Bellville and Lovell's separation."

With a frown, Artan took the armchair beside the couch. "How much do you know?"

"I just know Damara was the last Heart Maiden and that her death, over two hundred years ago, was what caused the separation."

He nodded. "You know about the no-wedding rule, right?"

I gritted my teeth. "Yes."

"Damara was proclaimed Heart Maiden when she was still a child. She grew up to be a beautiful woman, one who caused all the men of the enclave to turn their heads and stare at her. She knew about the no-wedding rule, and in the beginning, she was okay with that. She didn't want to be tied down to any male." He looked out the window, to the sun setting. "But then she fell in love with a fellow tzigane from the enclave, and despite being promised to another girl, he fell in love with her. Damara tried to convince the elders that she should be able to marry, that she could, but they wouldn't allow it. And Emilian's wedding day was fast approaching. So, desperate, Damara and Emilian decided to run away. But they were found out. For his punishment, the elders decided Emilian should be executed."

I gasped. "What? They can do that?"

He nodded. "They can. I haven't heard of another situation since then, but yes, they can. And they did. To serve as an example, Emilian was killed. And Damara lost it. She went crazy and killed herself."

"Oh my..."

"Revolted, Emilian's family left the enclave, thus later creating Bellville."

"Wow..." So, the elders had the power to sentence a tzigane to death because they fell in love with the "wrong" person. That was crazy. Falling in love wasn't like picking one's outfit for the day. It wasn't a conscious choice. One that I didn't have anymore. "I'm... I have no words."

"I know, it's not a pretty story." He paused. "And I'm sure the elders of that time regretted their decision."

Of course they did. They lost their beloved Heart Maiden because of it. If only they knew the tziganes would spend two hundred years without one.

And here a new one was.

Ready to be leashed and commanded by the elders.

I stared at my hands, realizing they would soon claim my body and soul too, and not even my hands would be mine anymore.

Something cracked in my chest. Just a couple of days ago, I thought I was free.

A tear ran down my cheek.

"You'll be all right," Artan said, his voice less harsh than usual. "You know that, right? You're our esteemed Heart Maiden. We won't let anything happen to you."

Of course. They didn't care about Mirella. It was all about the Heart Maiden now. "Sure," I muttered, wiping at the tears that sprung to my eyes. I raised my chin, defying whoever was in charge of writing our fates. Mine looked gloomy so far, but I would handle it. Somehow, I would handle it. "I will be fine."

Continue reading about Mirella's adventures on _Flame Caster_, book 2 of The Fire Heart Chronicles!

# Thank you

Thank you for reading _Heart Seeker_!

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_Flame Caster_

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# About the Author

While USA Today Bestselling Author Juliana Haygert dreams of being Wonder Woman, Buffy, or a blood elf shadow priest, she settles for the less exciting—but equally gratifying—life as a wife, a mother, and an author. She resides in North Carolina and spends her days writing about kick-ass heroines and the heroes who drive them crazy.

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# Also by Juliana Haygert

www.julianahaygert.com/books/

* * *

_Free_

Into the Darkest Fire

Tested

* * *

_Rite World: Blackthorn Hunters Academy_

The Demon Kiss (Book 1)

The Hunter Secret (Book 2)

The Soul Bond (Book 3)

The Shadow Trials (Book 4)

The Infernal Curse (Book 5)

* * *

_Rite World_

The Vampire Heir (Book 1)

The Witch Queen (Book 2)

The Immortal Vow (Book 3)

The Warlock Lord (Book 4)

The Wolf Consort (Book 5)

The Crystal Rose (Book 6)

* * *

_The Fire Heart Chronicles_

Heart Seeker (Book 1)

Flame Caster (Book 2)

Sorrow Bringer (Book 3)

Earth Shaker (Novella)

Soul Wanderer (Book 4)

Fate Summoner (Book 5)

War Maiden (Book 6)

* * *

_The Everlast Series_

Destiny Gift (Book 1)

Soul Oath (Book 2)

Cup of Life (Book 3)

Everlasting Circle (Book 4)

* * *

_Willow Harbor Series_

Hunter's Revenge (Book 3)

Siren's Song (Book 5)
