The Soul Mate (9 page)

That afternoon he taught me how to take out
the magazine, how to empty it, reinsert it, and had me doing dry
fire drills all morning. It was mind numbing. By lunch time I
wanted to shoot him, only I had no bullets in the gun.

“What’s that look for Trin? You think I’d let
you near me with a loaded gun before you know how to use it?” He
grinned. “I may be beautiful but I’m not stupid.”

“It’s so hot.” I whined. It was late
afternoon, the temperature was unbearable, and the extra fires that
had been lit around camp were only uncomfortably adding to the
summer heat.

Xan was sitting on the grass, the guns
in-between his spread legs. He wiped his forehead on his shoulder.
“Speaking of, would you tie up my hair? My hands are filthy.”

I trudged over to him. “I don’t have any hair
ties.”

“Just tie it up in one big knot.”

Thick with pencil thin dreads, his hair hung
down to his waist. I separated the dreads into two handfuls and
tried to tie them together in a giant bow. He laughed as I
struggled. It didn’t look nearly as neat as when he did it
himself.

“Your hair is annoying.” I plopped down next
to him. I watched, fascinated by how he disassembled and
reassembled the weapons which such ease.

“But beautiful,” He said in a mock serious
tone. “My mamă said so.”

“She has to say that. Not only is she your
mommy, but she does your dreads for you.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and quickly
slipped it back in my mouth when he tried to grab it with his
greasy fingers.

“Ugh, gross,” I yelled and rolled away from
him right onto a rather large and familiar pair bare feet.

Oh Gods. I looked up. And up, and saw Gerik
looking down at me.

“What are you doing?” He practically
growled.

“Nothing,” I said, closing my eyes and
congratulating myself on my superior ability to make a bad
situation worse with my horrible conversation skills.

“Okay,” He drew the word out slowly. “Then
come with me, yeah?” Bending down he offered me his hand as if he
actually expected me to take it. I looked at his hand. Was he
crazy? Did he actually think I was going to touch him right here in
front of Xan?

Realizing his mistake, he retracted the hand
and shoved it in his jeans pocket. I pushed myself into a sitting
position and looked up at him. His lips thinned as he realized I
wasn’t going to be standing up anytime soon.

“I think I’m just, uh, gonna stay here for
awhile,” I hedged.

His eyes blazed pure white, all color had
disappeared. “Why?” He bit out.

I glared at him, suddenly angry that he was
angry. “Because,” I retorted, sounding childish.

Xan laughed loudly. “Oh for shits sake frate,
Trin just wants to learn how to shoot, that’s all. Why don’t you go
re-learn how to breathe normally and by the time you’re done with
that, she’ll be back in your lap again. Safe and sound and
untouched.” Xan emphasized the word ‘untouched’.

Gods, what exactly had Gerik said to him?

Gerik glanced at Xan then back at me, the
muscles in his face twitching. I sucked in a breath. He was going
to lose it. I stood quickly, ready to go to him before he did
anything stupid.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” He said
surprising me as his eyes bled back to blue. “But Trinity?”

I raised my eyebrows in question.

“Don’t touch his hair again.”

Embarrassed by Gerik’s display of ownership,
I refused to look at Xan as Gerik walked back to the living
lot.

“You okay?” Xan asked after awhile.

I nodded jerkily.

“Good. Catch.” He tossed a dirty rag at me.
“Make yourself useful before we start dry rifle drills.”

We worked in silence for a few minutes. “Did
Gerik ever tell you the deal with his hair fată?”

I gave Xan a mocking look. “They’re braids,
what’s to tell? I figured he’s vain about his hair. Sorta like
you.”

That earned me a loud snort.

“The braiding and unbraiding of the hair is a
ritual of sorts you know, one that has been passed down from the
several Scandinavian family clans for hundreds of generations.
Before men would go to battle their women would plait their hair,
locking their strength and power in place, keeping them safe until
they came home to them again.

They kept their braids in until they came
home and only their women would be allowed to take them out,
unlocking the warriors from their battles, bringing them peace once
again.”

My heart fluttered a little. I thought of the
many times I’d slid my fingers through the first undone braid,
letting the silky strands glide over my hand. Gerik’s entire body
would relax as if he was deflating. After I unwound the second
braid I would massage his head while his long hair spilled across
his back in small waves.

“What if they never made it home?” I
asked.

“They died with the power tethered to their
souls, it would follow them into their next life so they would be
reborn again just as powerful. Or so the stories go… but who really
believes that sort of crap?”

I was rendered speechless. What did one say
in response to a story like that? More importantly, why hadn’t
Gerik told me? Gerik and his secrets were starting to wear on
me.

Xan stood up wiping his hands on an already
dirty cloth. “Let’s go Trin. Pick up the rifle; I want time to wash
before the dance tonight.”

I didn’t have much in the way of clothing
except a pair of patched over jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of flip
flops that had seen better days. Everything else I’d accumulated
was either on loan from around camp or Becki’s. So I let Becki drag
me to Jaelle’s tent to get ready for the fire meeting and dance
tonight. The fire dances were special to the Romani and you didn’t
attend one looking like a hobo.

Jaelle put my hair up in several braids,
beaded with brightly colored wooden beads of all shapes and sizes.
Becki let me borrow a handful of her bracelets and necklaces, some
store bought, others beautifully handcrafted. A sleeveless tunic
the color of violets that hit mid thigh with one of Becki’s chunky
leather belts finished the look.

“I’m keeping this,” I told her, admiring my
reflection in Jaelle’s mirror as I smoothed the tunic over my
hips.

Becki glanced at me over her shoulder as she
continued to rifle through an old trunk of clothing. “I don’t
mind.” She threw a bundle of scarves over her head. “You needed
something pretty anyway.”

For the first time in a long time, I had to
admit, I did feel rather pretty.

The camp always felt majestic during fire
dances. The fires seemed to burn brighter and a sense of
togetherness filled the air. The tension I seemed to always carry
with me would ease and for just a little while I could relax and
enjoy myself.

The women always wore their finest. Complete
with gauzy dresses and heavy jewelry, they paraded colorfully
around camp. The married women were less extravagant and paired
their ensembles with traditional fine spun silk headscarf’s called
diklo’s.

The children were freshly washed. The men,
both young and old, donned their colorful dress shirts, neck
scarves and just like the women, they too appreciated an abundance
of necklaces and bangles.

The guitars and violins sat by the fire as
their owner’s waited in anticipation to put them to use. Coffee and
water, a daily staple for all, waited on a table by the fire. Fresh
vegetable stew from our small but plentiful gardens and hand woven
baskets full of fresh berries and dried fruits had my mouth
watering. It was a veritable feast.

I wondered what brave soul had ventured out
of the wards just for the berries.

Several rabbits and a turkey slow roasted on
a spit nearby. Shandor’s little brother, Simonice, looked up from
his job at turning the delicious meat and grinned at us.

Becki tugged on my arm. “Look at
Jericho!”

Jericho had brought out the barrels of liquor
he distilled himself. Laced heavily with fruits and sugar, the
Romani love it. I, on the other hand, always felt like I needed a
good tooth brushing afterwards.

“Gather, children. Gather round the fire.”
Maisera motioned to us all.

Tin cups were passed out and filled; I
inhaled the fruity fermented scents of the liquor and sighed in
pleasure. After the first sip my body instantly warmed. I laid my
head on Becki’s shoulder. “I so needed this.”

Xan plopped down heavily beside me and
clinked cups with me, almost spilling the precious alcohol.

“Watch it,” I told him.

“Touchy, touchy.”

“This, little Gypsy, is a precious
commodity.”

“First of all Trin, there ain’t nothing
little about me.” He winked and smiled that gods damn cocky smile.
“And second, I have my own stash in my trailer. I don’t go on those
friggin’ raids for nothing.”

“Yes,” I said dryly. “Because food and
medical supplies are nothing.”

“I don’t have any damn magic like everyone
else; every time I go out there I’m risking my life. I think of it
as a reward of sorts for my efforts.”

“I don’t have magic either, Xan.” I told
him.

“Yeah well, you weren’t raised here.”

I nodded, not wanting to imagine a lifetime
of being an outsider. “That must have been hard,” I said.

Becki leaned over me. “Poor, poor Xan. His
life has been full of oppression and suffering.”

“Mind your business puţin sora.”

“You know Xan, it’s kinda gross that you
still call me ‘little sister’, especially after-

Xan’s eyes went wide and he nearly knocked me
over trying to reach Becki in order to slap his hand over her
mouth. The rest of her sentence came out in a muffled garble. She
bit down hard on his thumb and he snatched his hand away
quickly.

“…you and I drank that bottle of-

His hand went back over her mouth. “Would you
shut up?” He yelled.

Xan cleared his throat, still glaring at
Becki. “Are you going to behave? There are children around.”

Apparently propriety had become important to
him in the last ten seconds.

She nodded but I could see the laughter
dancing in those chocolate eyes. Stupidly, Xan removed his
hand.

“…rum we stole from Jericho and screwed each
other’s brains out.” She finished in one big rush, grinning from
ear to ear.

I never thought it possible for Xan Deleanu
to be embarrassed. I was wrong. If looks could kill… Xan would have
burned Becki to the ground. Becki, unfazed, laughed so hard I
thought she was going to pee herself.

“I heard that story before.” Hockey’s little
brother, Stevo winked at Becki as he sat down next to her. His long
hair was wet and glistening from his recent bath.

“Let’s get one thing straight Becki,” Xan
said, “That was probably the closest thing to rape a guy has ever
experienced,”

I turned toward Becki, frowning, and before I
could stop myself, “Is there anyone here you haven’t slept with?” I
asked her, perhaps a little too loud.

Alana, a heavyset blonde with an enormous set
of breasts, cuddling her three small children looked over from her
conversation and frowned at all of us.

With her mouth agape, all humor gone, Becki
glared at me. “I’m sorry Trinity? Jealous?” I winced at the acid
her voice. “It must be hard being the only person in the world who
has never had sex.”

Stevo’s mouth fell wide open. Embarrassed, I
scrambled to my feet and took off across the fire pit, but not
before I saw Xan's head jerk up in surprise.

I ran straight towards Gerik, not caring that
Onyx was sitting with him. He shot me a questioning look as I sat
down. I just shook my head, and kept my eyes fixed on Jericho and
Maisera who were now standing, their hands clasped and raised.

Silence had fallen across the fire pit, a
sign of respect for the couple who cared for everyone like they
were their own.

“Tonight we tell the story of Mullo.”

CHAPTER TEN

The little ones ran forward, always the most
eager for story time.

Maisera settled next to Jericho in their lawn
chairs, their elbows hooked loosely together. She gave her husband
a smile so sweet that I swear I saw sparks fly. The bond they had
with each other was not only a joining of bodies but of something
much deeper. They were truly one entity in two bodies. It was
glorious, it was ageless, and it was everything. Together, they
were beautiful to behold.

I caught sight of Onyx’s skinny fingers
creeping over top Gerik’s denim clad leg. I watched her squeeze the
individual muscles in his thigh and start possessively massaging
him. Brushing her short black hair out of her eyes, she caught me
staring and smiled.

“
Mullo
,” Maisera began. I immediately
looked away from Onyx.

“
Was born centuries ago, the eldest son to
the Baró of a Roma clan. He was powerful Rom, blessed by Nature
with all the magical elements. Back then, Romani were not welcome
in the Gaje world and had to travel many miles. This particular
clan had settled peacefully, deep within the Carpathian Mountains,
far away from the towns and villages that had condemned
them.

But they were not alone in the mountains. A
Gaje lord with a hunger for power that could never be sated lived
among them. It is said that the day he attacked he spared no one
his brutality, not even the children, in his attempts to learn the
secrets of their magic.

The Baró’s two sons had been away from camp
that day. They returned home to find the blood strewn remains of
their people. Everyone had been slaughtered, even the children.

Mad with revenge, the eldest son walked for
days thinking only of the vengeance he was to exact on his enemies.
His body grew gaunt, his clothes torn, but still he walked. Upon
his arrival, the guardsmen laughed at the solitary Gypsy who
thought to take on an entire fortress of armed men. They laughed
until they looked in his eyes.