A large pavilion dominated the middle of the clearing, framed with kerosene lamps and colored party lights. Underneath the tent, members of the circus troupe had gathered for dinner. The large fire pit was ablaze, grills were smoking, and people hovered around tables, laughing and enjoying one another’s company. The scene reminded me of a modern version of the Gypsy painting in Hugo’s tattoo parlor.
Stephan pushed through the crowd, leaving me without as much as a backwards glance. He joined a table of dark-clothed Marksmen who stood out like a disease against the rest of the eclectically dressed troupe. They glowered at me, faces ripe with disdain. I hovered on the outskirts of the pavilion area, searching for a familiar face.
Quentin wasn’t present – which put me more at ease – but then I realized, neither was Josephine. I bit back another surge of disappointment. She had to know I was here. A heavy sensation pressed into my chest. Was she avoiding me? I looked for Karl, the old circus trainer who’d helped me during the turbulent days after my transformation, but I didn’t see him either. I contemplated returning to my trailer, despite my hunger, when Nicolas suddenly appeared and motioned me over.
‘Sebastian,’ he said as I approached, ‘so glad to see you’ve joined us.’
I chose to ignore the fact that I couldn’t have refused, even if I’d wanted to — not with Marksmen beating on my door. ‘Well, it smelled way too good out here.’
‘And it should,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got barbeque on the menu tonight.’
I almost drooled. ‘I hope you’ve got enough.’
Nicolas chuckled and ushered me under the pavilion. ‘But before you settle in to eat, I want to introduce you to the rest of the troupe.’
I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Right now?’
‘Of course.’
My heart lodged in my esophagus. Everything was happening way too fast. ‘Nicolas, I really don—’
Nicolas clapped his hands, and someone whistled sharply. The music stopped. The clatter of utensils against plates silenced. Everyone went quiet. I recoiled, looking for escape. But there was none.
‘Good friends and family,’ Nicolas addressed the gathering. ‘I must take a moment to interrupt your festivities …’
There was a general lighthearted groan from the group. Had circumstances been different, I would have laughed.
‘I want you all to meet Sebastian Grey.’ All attention was suddenly riveted on me, like a display unveiled at a museum. ‘He just arrived this evening. I hope you’ll make him feel welcome as he’ll be staying with us for a while.’
It was so quiet I could hear my blood rushing in my ears. I felt every stare, but I also sensed every emotion – the hatred, the mistrust, the uncertainty – each one so powerful that my head swam with them. My tongue sealed itself to the roof of my mouth. I tried to nod, but produced nothing more than a swaying of my hood. I was grateful, at least, for the minimum protection my jacket provided.
‘This is the gargoyle?’ someone muttered, breaking the tense silence.
A soft murmuring rippled through the crowd. Heads lowered across tables, and I could pick out snatches of conversation, none of them favorable. The Marksmen’s gloating satisfaction was like a punch in the jaw. My breathing went shallow as a tendril of anger wrapped itself around the base of my skull. My hands closed into fists, and the prick of claws jerked me from my emotions. I instantly refocused my energy towards the task of staying calm. The last thing I needed right now was to lose it.
‘This is not up for discussion,’ Nicolas said in a booming voice. The air of his authority rushed through the pavilion, and the murmurs ceased. His face hardened. ‘Sebastian Grey is here at my request, and you will give him the respect demanded by our traditions as my guest. Is that understood?’
Heads bobbed up and down, and the Gypsies slowly returned to their meals. Conversations gradually started up again. Shaded glances continued in my direction, and my overly sensitive hearing caught a few snide comments from the table of Marksmen, but the general mood of the pavilion gradually lightened.
Nicolas clasped his hands behind his back as if nothing had happened at all. ‘Well, now that we’ve taken care of business, are you ready to eat?’
As uncomfortable as I felt, I couldn’t resist the offer of food. It had been too long since I’d eaten, and being hungry made it harder to focus. ‘Way past ready,’ I replied.
‘Then take a seat,’ said Nicolas, ‘and I’ll have a plate sent to you.’
There was an empty table in one corner of the pavilion, away from the rest of the troupe. I tugged at the hood of my jacket as I sat down. I could feel eyes boring into the back of my skull, staring at the large lumps protruding from under my jacket, straining to see my monstrous face through the shadows of my hood. I was reminded of the inhuman appearance of my hands as I clasped them together on the table, but I resisted the urge hide them in my pockets.
‘Hey, Sebastian.’ I glanced up to see Francis Romany – Josephine’s twin brother – standing over me with a plate in his hands. ‘Dad told me you needed some food,’ he said matter-of-factly.
Francis shared the same green eyes and brown hair as his sister, but nothing else made it obvious they were twins. He was stocky and much darker skinned with thick arms and a broad face.
He set the plate in front of me, grinning. The savory smell of barbequed ribs was so strong that my teeth ached against my gums. I pressed a hand against my jaw. The disturbing sensation in my mouth was growing more pronounced as time went on. ‘Thanks.’
Francis glanced at my vacant table. ‘Mind if I sit down?’
I found it difficult to take my eyes off the food. ‘If you can find room.’
The Gypsy chuckled and slid onto the bench across from me. I pulled the plate close, inhaling once more. I stifled a whimpering growl, and swallowed hard. Then I dug in, devouring the food. I could feel Francis staring at my ravenous display – probably with the same look Hugo used to give me when I’d polish off an entire pizza by myself.
‘You know, I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it,’ he remarked.
‘Go through with what?’ I asked around a mouthful of meat.
‘With coming here,’ he said. ‘I expected you to back out of my father’s invitation to stay with us.’
‘I didn’t have any reason to refuse,’ I said carefully. I picked up a rib and gnawed at it. The pressure felt wonderful against my teeth, easing the ache.
‘I guess so.’ Francis’ gaze drifted to my arm, and he leaned forward. ‘So,’ he said casually, ‘can I see your tat? The brand, I mean.’
I set the bone down and wiped my hands. ‘You know about that?’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘Everybody knows about that, man.’
I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket and held out my arm. The dandelion tattoo was as red and inflamed as ever.
Francis made a face. ‘Man, that looks pretty bad. Has it always been like that?’
‘No,’ I replied, shoving my sleeve back down. Francis studied me carefully, but I didn’t offer any more details. I returned to my food, and soon the plate was clean, save for the mound of bones that I was – strangely enough – half tempted to eat. I pushed the plate aside before I followed through with the whim. ‘You know,’ I continued, turning my attention to the Gypsy, ‘I’m surprised you’re talking to me. Aren’t I off-limits or something?’ I glanced meaningfully towards the Marksmen.
‘Quentin may have a lot of people riled up, but you don’t scare me.’
‘Oh, really?’ I tilted my head into the lantern light and allowed my upper lip to curl just enough to reveal my sharp teeth.
He nodded appreciatively. ‘Nice grill.’
I sat back, stunned. ‘So you really aren’t bothered by me?’
‘Hey, don’t get me wrong. You’re a total freak show. I’m just saying that I’m not freaked out, that’s all.’
‘I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me since I arrived.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Francis tapped his chin curiously. ‘So, now that we’ve established things between us, let’s see the rest of it, then.’ He pointed at my hood.
‘I don’t really feel comfortable with—’
‘Oh, come on,’ he pressed. ‘It’s not like we don’t know what you are.’ But as soon as I shifted my hood enough for Francis to view my face, his eyes went wide. ‘Dude! You really are a gargoyle!’
‘I thought we’d just covered that.’
‘Yeah, well I knew, I just didn’t realize how much … I mean, the last time I saw you it was just the gray hair and—’ He caught my expression and cut himself off. He recovered quickly, then offered me a broad grin. ‘Sorry. Shock factor contained. My bad. Won’t say another word about it.’
‘It’s okay,’ I said, adjusting my hood again. I appreciated his honesty. ‘I’ve gotten used to the reactions.’
‘Really?’
I shrugged. The look in Francis’ eyes was one of friendly understanding. It made him easy to like – a complete opposite of Quentin.
‘Well then,’ he continued, ‘changing subjects. How’s everyone from school?’ He propped his elbows on the table. ‘I hated that Jo and I had to bail before graduation. I was really looking forward to wearing the pointy cap and doing the whole walking thing. All I have to show for my education is a certificate from some home schooling company in Indiana.’
‘Everyone’s fine,’ I replied, suddenly distracted. He’d mentioned Josephine, and now I knew I was going to have to ask. The question had been weighing on me all evening. I cleared my throat awkwardly. ‘So where is Josephine?’
‘Probably in our trailer with Quentin.’ He shrugged and rolled his eyes. ‘They’ve been pretty antisocial lately.’ The Romany twin caught the expression on my shadowed face before I could go stoical again. ‘You’ve still got a thing for my sister, haven’t you?’ he asked, a smirk tugging on his lips.
‘What?’ I said, taken aback. ‘No, I … of course not … I mean, no.’
‘Whoa,’ said Francis lowly. ‘I didn’t think that your kind was supposed to, you know, get feelings like that.’
I straightened slowly. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘I’ve heard my share of bedtime stories,’ Francis replied, ‘about how guardians were created by my people to protect us, but they weren’t given the capacity to love or have any emotions except service and duty, blah, blah, blah. But I remember how you used to look at Josie in school.’ The wooden bench creaked as he leaned closer. ‘So, is it true?’
‘I didn’t say I had any feelings like that, Francis.’ My voice was starting to sound like I was eating gravel: a reminder to keep my inexplicable emotions carefully in check. I forced a smile into my words. ‘I was just asking about her.’
‘But it’s because of the brand and sclav thing, isn’t it?’ The Gypsy’s tone was suspiciously curious. ‘It connects you two somehow, right? That’s what my dad said, but I’ve gotta admit, I really don’t know how any of that works.’
‘That makes two of us,’ I replied. He narrowed his eyes, and I waited for some brotherly remark from him – telling me to stay away from his sister – but when he didn’t say anything, I frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Sebastian,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t mind you being here, and I definitely don’t have a problem with what you are – not like some people around the Circe – but I just don’t think we need you.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘For protection,’ the Gypsy continued. ‘I get what you’re supposed to be doing, but we can handle ourselves just fine.’
‘I’m sure that’s true.’
Francis cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his wide chest. ‘You don’t believe the stuff my father talks about either, do you?’
‘I’m not sure what to believe,’ I replied, glancing far away into the darkness, where the caravan’s lights couldn’t penetrate. ‘Everything’s happened so fast. But when your father invited me to stay here, it was the first time in months that I’ve actually felt there was a reason for me being what I am. I had to come.’
‘And what about my sister?’
I didn’t blink. ‘If I can help your family in any way, that’s why I’m here.’
Francis propped his elbows on the table. ‘Fair enough.’
‘Do you mind if I join you?’ asked a pleasant feminine voice from behind me.
I peered over my shoulder, keeping my head bent low and my features concealed inside the hood. A young woman hovered at the corner of our table looking on warily. She had warm brown eyes and impossibly curly brown hair. Francis broke into a grin.
‘Sure thing,’ he said, making room for her on his side of the table.
She slid in next to him, trying hard not to gawk at me.
‘Hello,’ I said, attempting to sound as gentle and non-threatening as possible. I took a tentative whiff of the air. My nose twitched at her scent, like a mix of summer flowers. ‘I’m Sebastian.’
‘I know,’ she replied. ‘I was here for the introduction.’
‘Oh, right,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘It was a great first impression, I’m sure.’
‘I’m Phoebe Marks.’
Seeing my surprised reaction, Francis nodded. ‘Yup. Quentin’s her brother.’
I waited for the uncomfortable block of ice to form in the pit of my stomach the way it did when Quentin or the other Marksmen were near. But I didn’t feel cold at all. I took it as a good sign. ‘Pleased to meet you, Phoebe.’
‘You see what I mean?’ said Francis, putting his arm around the girl. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of. It’s not like Sebastian bites.’ He shot me a look. ‘Do you?’
‘I try not to make a habit of it.’
Francis laughed, and I nearly grinned but, given the circumstances, I didn’t think flashing my teeth was the best idea. Phoebe crunched a few brown curls nervously in her hand, watching my shadowed features under my hood, and I allowed her to stare. The expression on her face slowly relaxed.
‘So, are you really what they claim you are?’ she asked suddenly.
‘I suppose it depends on what they say I am.’
Phoebe cast a shaded glance around the pavilion before replying. She lowered her voice. ‘Well, some say you’re one of the ancient guardians that’s been awakened to protect the clan from something bad that’s going to happen.’
‘And the rest believe you’re a horrible abomination from our dark past, and you pose a threat to the entire clan by simply being here,’ Francis added.
‘What do you believe?’ I asked, glancing at him.
His green eyes met mine. ‘I haven’t decided yet. But I’ll let you know.’
‘So, what made you come here, Sebastian?’ Phoebe asked. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but Quentin’s absolutely furious with this whole thing, and he has most of the clan worked up over it, too. This is the last place I would’ve come, if I were in your shoes.’
‘I’m a glutton for punishment,’ I replied. ‘So I couldn’t possibly stay away.’
Phoebe looked amused. ‘Well, I guess I’d better be going before word gets back to my brother that I was consorting with the enemy.’ She turned an annoyed gaze towards the Marksmen. ‘It was good to meet you, Sebastian.’
I dipped my head. ‘You too, Phoebe.’
She stared at me for a moment, then whirled and darted through the tables.
Francis watched her go, his tanned face beaming. ‘I bet she’ll be dancing tonight.’
‘Dancing?’
‘We have sort of an evening ritual around here after dinner. It’s a little stereotypical, but hey, it’s tradition.’
I shifted my gaze around the pavilion. Dinner was being cleared around us. Several groups were actively trying to avoid me as they went about their chores, while others were watching me with apprehension.
‘Is the entire circus troupe made up of Gypsies?’ I asked.
Francis seemed surprised at my question. ‘Yeah, it is. We don’t trust outsiders. We maintain everything ourselves.’
‘So, how are you all … ah … connected?’
‘We’re not all related by blood, if that’s what you mean. There are lots of families in our clan: the Marks, the Stoakas, the Costas, the Jansens, the Bailles—’
‘And the Romanys.’
Francis rolled his shoulders proudly. ‘We’re the head family, and my father’s the bandoleer. His word is pretty much law around here, if you haven’t noticed.’
I opened my mouth to ask another question, but the sound of fiddle music prevented me. It was only then that I became aware that Francis and I were the only two left under the pavilion. He stood and motioned for me to follow.
It appeared as though the entire clan had crowded around the fire pit. A group of men were playing fiddles and drums, and several women danced around the fire, flipping tambourines against their hips. Ankle bracelets jangled under their long skirts. The scene reminded me of the Native American festivals I’d seen in Hickory Springs: a blending of old and new, traditional and contemporary. Only this world I stepped into – this Roma world – was all strange to me.
‘Like I said,’ Francis remarked with a shrug, ‘it’s tradition. Well, that and a lack of a decent internet connection out here.’
The women swirled around the crowd, and I saw Phoebe, her curly hair flying around her face. Then I felt a chill. It started in the center of my belly and worked its frigid fingers into my spine. It didn’t take long to spot Quentin Marks sitting nearby, watching the entertainment. Sleek, polished charm oozed off him, and everyone seemed to feed off his presence. I felt the muscles along my neck stiffen.
‘A piece of advice, Sebastian,’ said Francis at my shoulder, his gaze following mine. ‘I’d keep out of his way, if I were you. The Marks take their job seriously. And after the stink you’re causing, trust me, he’s not the guy you want to mess with.’
‘I haven’t done anything to him.’
‘Yeah, I know. But you might.’
I shot him an inquisitive look, but Francis merely clapped me on the shoulder and bounded into the crowd. He was quickly swallowed up by the colorful explosion of festivities. I remained in the shadows of the tent, contemplating my next course of action. I didn’t feel comfortable joining the group, but I didn’t want to be alone, either. Before I could make a decision, another scent wafted across my nose.
My knees almost buckled. Esmeralda was right. Even amid all the tangy smells of the Gypsy camp, I could pick out that one particular scent with undeniable clarity. Her scent. My mouth went dry as I scanned the crowd with a sudden sense of desperation. I didn’t see Josephine Romany at first. Then the strange radar I seemed to possess when I was near the Gypsy girl activated once more.
Somehow – though I was hidden in shadows and she was buried in the crowd – our eyes met. My tattoo flared to life under my sleeve. Electricity sparked, and the pull towards her was so strong that I gripped the pavilion’s support pole to keep from launching forward.
Her eyes darted to a grouping of trailers just beyond. She passed through the crowd looking back at me, beckoning me to follow. There was no time to think about my actions. I immediately stole out of the pavilion – keeping to the shadows – and made my way along the edge of the caravan, my eyes fixed on Josephine.
No one seemed to notice her departure – not even Quentin, who was busy talking. I trailed after her, feeling like I was about to leap out of my skin. It was dark away from the campfire, but my gargoyle eyes had no trouble finding her. Josephine stopped in the middle of a grassy lane between the vehicles. Her back was to me, her head down. Her hair was loose and poured over her shoulders like a waterfall. I froze in my tracks, heart pounding, as she slowly turned.
‘Hey, Sebastian.’
Every feeling I’d ever had for the Gypsy girl punched me hard in the chest. All those months feeling like my insides had been scraped out, aching with her loss, so incomplete and hollow. And in one moment, it all changed. I struggled to keep my emotions in check. ‘Hello, Josephine.’ Goosebumps skittered up my arms as I said her name.
She clasped her hands in front of her – a casual enough gesture – but I could see the knuckles turning white. ‘So I hear you’re joining us.’
‘Your father asked for my help,’ I replied carefully. Guardedly. ‘And I couldn’t refuse. I’ve been trying to make it work with my brother’s clan, but nothing’s felt right. I was supposed to be here.’
‘That’s what my father’s been trying to convince Quentin for weeks.’
‘I have to admit, I’m a little clueless, but I really want to try and be of some use around here, if I can.’ I glanced over the caravan of trailers, remembering the last conversation we’d had and feeling the hard lump of emotion that wrapped like scar tissue around my heart. ‘But please, don’t worry. I promise I’ll keep my distance.’
‘No,’ Josephine said quickly, shaking her head. ‘I don’t want you to stay away.’ Her bright eyes peered into the darkness of my hood as she continued in a hushed, rapid voice. ‘Look, I don’t understand any of this, Sebastian. And I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried. You’re not supposed to be here, and yet, you are. I don’t know what to think anymore.’
‘I understand,’ I said as steadily as I could. Nothing seemed to be going right since I’d arrived. I’d wanted so desperately to see Josephine again, and now it all felt so conflicted. It was too much, too soon. I took a few hesitant steps backwards. ‘Maybe I should just—’
‘Can I … see you?’ she asked softly.
It was the one thing I’d been dreading — having Josephine see me like this again. Her expression of horror after I’d transformed on the Sutallee Bridge was seared into my memory. But I’d never been able to refuse a request from Josephine. And, it wasn’t as if I was going to find a cure for my condition in the next thirty seconds anyway, so I grit my teeth and let my hood fall to my shoulders. Josephine’s widened eyes registered my face only briefly before she turned away.
‘I’d forgotten how much you’d …’ she whispered.
Though her words trailed off, I knew exactly what she meant. Changed. She focused her eyes on a spot near the roof of one of the trailers, and my chest tightened painfully.
Was I so grotesque that she couldn’t even look at me?
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, hiding my face again with my hood. I didn’t know what else to say. Impulsively, I yanked the pendant from my neck and held it out to her. The glass was warm against my gray palm and the dandelion in the center shimmered brightly. ‘This is yours, by the way. It’s about time I returned it.’
Her gaze went to my hand. ‘No,’ she said; her face was composed once more, and the fear was gone from her eyes. ‘I gave it to you.’
‘I have no right to keep it.’ I studied the sparkling pendant I’d treasured since the Circe had left town. It gleamed with a life of its own. ‘But thanks for letting me look after it for a while.’
At first, I thought Josephine was going to refuse. But then, her fingers reached out and curled around the necklace. Her fingertips brushed against my skin and electricity crackled in the air. I felt the jolt of it along my spine. I could see that Josephine felt it too, and I held my breath as we both froze in the strange current.
Suddenly, there was a loud shout from the campfire, and the music screeched to a halt. Josephine clutched the pendant in her hand, and the electricity fizzled. She stared at me in surprise, then hiked up her skirt and ran to the bonfire. I followed close at her heels.
A man was on his knees in the center of the crowd. Marksmen surrounded him, their weapons drawn. The rest of the troupe hovered nearby, looking confused and wary. Nicolas stood near the fire, his face tight as he glared down at the stranger.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded.
The man’s scraggly hair framed a face that was splattered with dirt and blood. His eyes were wild. ‘Sanctuary, please,’ he gasped hoarsely. ‘I beg you … sanctuary!’
‘You have it,’ Nicolas replied. With a motion of his hand, he ordered the Marksmen to lower their weapons. ‘Now, tell us who you are.’
‘Peter Boswell,’ he sputtered.
‘Of the Carolina Boswells?’
The stranger nodded, and the crowd murmured uneasily.
Quentin stepped forward, his eyes narrow. ‘Why do you need sanctuary?’
The man stared at him. ‘Because they’re trying to kill me.’