Raquel Byrnes (28 page)

“We push this. Start it in the meadow.”

“OK.” I helped him maneuver it from the wall.

He grimaced, his limp getting worse. We pushed the bike to the meadow just up the rise. My hands shook with the effort. The bike was so heavy, and we were moving so slow.

“Here is good. Get on.” Josif mounted the bike, kick-started it, and it jerked under him. “Now, Rosetta.”

I climbed behind him, holding onto his jacket as we pulled away. The headlamp flicked on, bathing the meadow before us in light. We took off, the frigid wind chilling my eyes as we raced through the flowers. They whipped underneath us, and I winced as blades of the tall grasses sliced at my legs. The bike bounded and careened off hidden ruts in the ground. We hit a dip, bounced through it, and my jaw snapped shut. I tasted blood and hung on tighter.

“We’ll go through the trees,” Josif yelled over his shoulder.

We shot between the tree line, and the dark forms that whizzed past us on either side blurred with the speed. The headlamp beam bounced wildly, illuminating fallen logs and thick growth.

My breath came in hitches, fear squeezing me.

We fishtailed and the rear end skidded sharply nearly toppling me off. I screamed, but Josif didn’t stop. Never slowed. The bike veered up, took the crest of the ravine, and we landed on the ground with a bone-jarring hit.

Then we were on the cobblestones. We bounced through the middle of the village, the arching lamps the only light.

Josif rushed past the last row of stores, and the tires screeched through a turn. Adrenaline pumped through me, bitter in my mouth.

“Up ahead,” Josif shouted.

I peered over his shoulder to the dirt road behind the last building. A fire burned against the sky a hundred yards ahead. We hit the sand, and the tires went out from us, wobbling with the new terrain. We sped onward, chewing up the distance. A crowd came into view, a knot of people to the right of a huge bonfire. Their shouting hit me, and I searched frantically for Simon.

“Do you see him?” I yelled. “Do you see Simon?”

Josif stopped us just before the ring of light, and I scrambled off, running for the crowd. Violins and accordions threw off festive music. The scent of cooking meat drifted to me. I took in the laughter and talking, not understanding.

“Simon!” I yelled, and the crowd that surged and churned by the fire stopped.

Music dying, the townsfolk stared at me with shock, their faces lit by the fire. I stood panting, the sand slowing my steps as I staggered towards them. He wasn’t here.

“What is this?” a woman yelled, her child clutched to her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Please,” Josif said, coming up behind me. “Where is Hale’s son?”

“Here!” Simon’s voice boomed from the other side of the fire. He stepped into the light of the flames. His shirt was torn, the white material marred with streaks of blood. He must have run through the bushes to get here. Panting, he took a step forward, his fists at his sides. His voice a growl, he addressed the throng of men. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Fratele,” Josif said with a grimace. “Do not do this.”

“You blame me,” Simon shouted, ignoring him. “A debt is owed to you.”

“Murderer,” a woman shouted from the crowd. Others around her muttered in agreement, their anger palpable.

Simon put his arms out at his sides. “If you want blood for blood, then take it from me. Spill
my
blood, not my woman’s, not my child’s.” A murmur tore through the crowd, and the men surged forward. Simon stood his ground, a grimace of rage on his face. “Let this be finished tonight. For good.”

“Wait—”

Josif pulled me back.

“This will not solve things,” Josif said, stepping forward. “Please—”

“You defend him?” Nalla’s voice cut through the crowd. She pushed past a row of women, strode across the sand, and faced off with Josif. “You choose this
Gaji
over blood?”

More voices rose in agreement, and I took in the anger on their faces with growing fear.

“He married one of us, Nalla. His daughter—” Josif tried.

“Will be taught to hate us by her grandfather,” Nalla snapped. “We all know how he has treated us. Cheated us of our homes from the moment he came to Noble Island.”

Shouts of agreement spurred her on.

“The Hales take and take. We live on boats, floating like trash at the edges of our own land!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I picked up the forms of two men edging behind me and Josif. My heart rammed, they were closing in.

“We can have peace,” Josif reasoned. “Simon has tried—”

“Peace?” Nalla laughed, a bitter smirk on her face. “You have truly lost your way, cousin. All those years traveling with them has blinded you to who they really are.”

“Thieves,” a woman yelled. The people next to her nodded.

“Simon has promised to help us get back our land. Your own sister believed it.”

“And his promises to us died the night she did,” Nalla spat. “The night he threw her from the cliffs.”

A glint of light pulled my gaze to a man near Simon’s side. Fire reflected from the blade in his hand. My gaze snapped to Simon’s; he’d seen it, his body coiling ready to fight.

“Nalla.” Josif edged toward her.

“Grab him,” Nalla shouted, and the men pounced on Josif.

The man with the blade ran at Simon, and I screamed as they clashed, the two of them going down to the sand in an angry knot. They twisted and punched, churning the sand as the crowd yelled. Children cried, their mothers scurrying to the shore and the safety of the boats.

“Simon,” I yelled, lunging in his direction, but a hand pulled me, tossing me to the ground. I tried to get up, but a man held me back. Sobbing, I strained to see through the blur of bodies circling the fight. They tumbled out from the ring of people, knocking some over. A guttural growl ripped from Simon as he threw the man off of him and came up with the knife in his hand.

“Simon, no!” Josif struggled with the men holding him, his face a mask of fear.

More men closed in on Simon, their daggers glinting with the flames. Simon brought his knife up, his lip bloody. He spat to the side. The crowd of men jeered, threw their bottles at him.

“Now!” Simon shouted, anger reddening his face. “We end this now!”

A man dove for him, the dagger swinging down as Simon twisted away.

I gasped.

The blade slashed at his shoulder, the tear spreading red. Simon blocked another blow, punching the man with his left hand and rising to meet another attacker. Panicked, I kicked at the man holding me, connecting with his stomach. His grip loosened, and I wrenched myself free. I ran towards the fight.

“Rosetta, don’t!” Josif yelled, behind me.

“They’ll kill him.”

Almost to the crowd, Nalla’s hand snaked out, grabbing my hair and stopping me short. She held a dagger to my throat, the cold steel against my neck making me gasp.

The murmur of the crowd changed. Anger turned to shock. Some called for Nalla to let me go. I struggled in her grip, but she pressed in deeper, and I screamed with pain.

Simon looked up, distracted, and his attacker lunged with the blade glancing Simon’s side. The crowd gasped, as he staggered backwards. Crimson stained his shirt across his ribs. His gaze was on mine, his face contorted with anger.

“Let her go,” he growled.

“A trade,” Nalla yelled. “Rosetta’s blood for my sister’s.” The feel of the edge against my skin sent fear ripping through me.

“She has nothing to do with this,” Simon said. He held his hands out at his sides and let the dagger drop to the sand. “My life for Amanna’s.” He took a step toward us. “A fairer bargain.”

People in the crowd nodded all around us, the look of worry on their faces evidence that Nalla had gone too far.

“Let her go,” someone called. Others shouted their agreement.

“No! Her death would destroy Simon,” Nalla hissed and pressed the blade deeper.

A cry of pain escaped my throat.

Simon froze.

Heat snaked down my neck, a thin trickle. Blood. Tears blurred my vision, and Simon’s eyes found mine, anguish in their blue depths.

“Do you not think I can see what is happening? How you are replacing my own sister? I see Lala holding Rosetta’s hand. This woman lives in Amanna’s house, kisses her husband,” Nalla screamed, her voice quaking with anger and sorrow. “You will not get away with my sister’s murder! Now you will know what it is like to lose a part of yourself, Simon.”

Simon lunged for us. “Nalla, no—”

A gunshot tore through the night. Everyone froze, their attention on Josif, who stood dripping wet with the barrel leveled at Nalla.

“We don’t know he did it, cousin,” Josif said. “Let her go.”

“Then let’s ask him now,” Nalla said. “Ask him if he killed my sister.”

Simon’s face fell. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Do you see this…this deception?” Nalla spat. “Even now he will not—”

“He has blackouts,” I said suddenly. “H-he did on that night.”

Simon’s gaze caught mine; he hadn’t wanted to admit it.

“He has them still.”

“It is true, Nalla,” Josif said. “He does not remember.”

“How can you not remember killing your own wife?” she screamed at him. “How do you forget taking a life? He is lying, Josif. Lying to keep this woman alive.” She yanked my head back by the hair, and I gritted my teeth, a hiss of pain escaping my lips.

“He has not hidden these blackouts from me, Nalla,” Josif continued. “He wishes to know the truth of that night as you do.”

“That is not true, Josif,” she said, her voice cracking. “For two years, there has been proof.”

“What are you saying?” Josif’s face registered surprise. “What proof?”

My heart stuttered. Our one ally on this beach and his gun hand wavered.

“T-there was a witness. One of us. A witness that Hale threatened into silence.”

The crowd gasped. Whispers of a cover-up floated to my ears. A witness?

“Why have we never heard of this before?” Josif asked.

“You know why. Davenport Hale will crush anyone who comes forward.
This
is justice.” She lifted her elbow, the knife digging into my skin. “This he cannot stop.”

“And Lala?” Simon yelled.

Nalla froze. “What of her?”

“She deserves the truth of her mother’s death.” Simon stepped forward, his arms up in surrender. “I need to know the truth for her, Nalla. If I am a danger, then I will leave this island and trust her to the care of Amanna’s family. But I have to know what these blackouts are.”

“How would we know?” Nalla snapped.

“Because of this.” Simon reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and tossed it at her feet. Everyone stared, some crossing themselves and backing away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the braid. Gold and raven, tied with a red ribbon and bones.

Nalla gasped.

“This is a dark practice,” Simon yelled. “Look at it! Tell me this is not your old ways.”

“You blame us?” she screamed.

“I want to know, Nalla,” Simon said, his face a mask of frustration. “The truth.”

“I won’t let you spill innocent blood, Nalla.” Josif shook his head. “If there is truth, then let it be known.”

The crowd murmured, slowly rising as the standoff between Josif and Nalla continued.

“Please,” I gasped, my hands on her wrist that held the blade. “The truth.”

“The truth,” a voice called out from the crowd. Others joined in. “The truth.”

She jerked us from side to side, as she faced the gypsies. They stared at us, the call for truth gaining volume. A cry rumbled out of her, and she threw me aside, tossing the dagger into the sand at my feet. I scrambled back, heart racing as my hand went to my throat. She went to her knees, sobbing. Simon ran to me, pulled me to my feet, and held me close.

“Who is the witness?” Josif yelled at the crowd. “Come forward.”

The people looked at each other, and the questioning din grew louder until Yasmine emerged from the throng. She wrung her hands, her whole body trembling.

“I am the witness,” Yasmine said. “I saw Amanna die that night. She was not alone.”

35

The bonfire burned behind him casting shadows on the contours of his muscled torso. Simon stood in front of me, his slashed shirt a pile on the ground as I dabbed a torn piece of my skirt to the cuts from the knife fight. The slice at his shoulder was superficial, already clotting, but the gash over his ribs worried me. He wasn’t bleeding to death, but he should have stiches. I pulled in a ragged breath, my gaze flitting to the gathered gypsies on the other side of the flames. A tacit truce was called to await the head of the families. His boat was on its way to shore. I eyed the sky. Black tufts floated lazily lit from behind by the crescent moon.

“You should really be at the hospital,” I said and wrapped a length of cloth I’d torn from my hem over his wound, binding it, and handed him back his shirt. “Simon, you could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t. And now I hope we’ll finally learn the truth.” Simon gazed down at me, his face framed in the light. Strong, determined, so achingly handsome. Smiling, he reached out, ran the back of his fingers along my jawline. A flare of heat rushed to my face. I tried to pull away, but Simon stopped me, brushed the pad of his thumb across my lips. “I like the pink I bring to your cheeks, love. Don’t hide that from me.”

My gaze flitted to the crowd of gypsies. “Won’t they be angry if they see you touch me like this?”

“They all know,” Simon said. “I won’t hide how I feel about you.”

“Simon, I was so scared. I don’t want…” My voice broke as I struggled to tell him that I’d nearly lost my mind when I saw the daggers flying at him, when I’d seen the blood. I shook my head, lip trembling. I wiped at the tears on my face and took in a ragged breath. Why was it so hard for me to say how I felt? That the thought of never feeling his arms around me, never having a chance at what might be with him, scared me more than anything I’d ever faced. “I mean I can’t imagine w-what I would’ve—”