Timeless (28 page)

The blaring horn of a speeding fire truck pulled her out of her waking dream so abruptly, she almost lost control of the car. The truck’s driver flashed angry lights at her, forcing her to slow further and pull half-off the road, to get out of his way. She mumbled incoherent curses and empty threats at the rowdy beast which was now accelerating noisily, spoiling the quiet of the night, and pulled on the steering wheel to get back to the road, a tad too sharply.

Her car slid sideways for a beat, wheels spinning wildly in the squashy leaf mold, then something caught and she was propelled diagonally onto the road surface. Riella stomped on the brakes, which served to turn the car farther around, but stop it did. By the time her heart’s wild beats became bearable and she was brave enough to open her eyes again, the car was smack-dab in the middle of the road, straddling the white line, pointing in the wrong direction. Luckily, there were no other cars in sight.

Slowly and carefully, Riella executed a three-point turn and drove on, paying a lot more attention to the road.

The forest gave way to undulating hills, but by now the darkness was complete. Except for a slight glow in the sky, over to the right, just about the patch of heaven right above the caravan site. Must be the moon.

No. Not the moon.

Images and fragments of memories snapped together like puzzle pieces in Riella’s mind, faster than she could incorporate them into rational thought. She was driving north. Cloudy sky, crescent moon; no light coming from the skies. Fire truck. The warning her cousin Casper was talking about behind Dora’s caravan when she’d just happened to walk past, last time she’d visited her parents, a few weeks back.

Her foot rammed the accelerator as far as it would go even as her heart lurched and she began re-playing the scene in her memory. Casper’s words had fizzled out when he’d caught sight of her, and both he and his gossip mate, Mirin, had averted their eyes. At the time, she had thought it no more than the usual snobbish behavior the more blinkered of her cousins displayed toward her. The fact that she’d left the colony and settled in a gadjee lifestyle still rankled, and they treated her like a traitorous bitch. One more reason to go and stay gone, when the purpose of her return ceased to exist.

The road straightened and she could see it clearly now – the plume of smoke twisting with the odd flare of orange flame. Right in the middle of the camp.

No, no, no, no, no!

The car screamed as she pushed it to do what only its race-track replicas ever did. A deeply hidden portion of her brain catalogued images and processed them in a logical fashion, urging her to stay calm, but her emotions were not buying it. She sped past the entrance, shifting from maximum acceleration to an emergency stop in a split second. Her hand grabbed for the handbrake and she was out and running to the scene of the fire, ducking under the ‘fire line do not cross’ yellow tape on the way.

The acrid smell left behind by the blaze choked her and made her eyes water. Where was everyone? She ducked through a grey cloud of smoke, tripped and fell over on her hands and knees.

“Get back!”

Riella heeded the shouted warning and backed away, to lean against the truck. She fought to get her bearings, and sucked in a hot lungful of air only half-saturated by floating ash. Trembling with anxiety, Riella forced herself to focus on only one detail at a time, and to do so in a calm and composed manner – as calm and composed as any person standing on the edge of an inferno looking in would ever be capable of remaining.

Smoke, lots of it, engulfed the whole of the space that had been the camp’s square, the meeting place where husbands settled their dealings, elders passed judgments, children played and wives traded secrets. The stench of destruction was strong enough to make her retch.

Right in the middle, out of a large pile of charred remains, tongues of fire lashed toward the skies, looking smaller and smaller all the time. Firemen were shooting jets of water at the last stronghold of fire, giving the impression of relaxed authority. They must have everything under control; probably got there just in time.

Straight ahead – devastation. Two of the trailers had been completely gutted and one more stood close enough to catch. Six men were pushing and tugging at a fourth, desperately trying to roll it out of the path of danger. All the tarpaulins that had been stretched between the trailers to provide some protection from the elements were now hanging from their hooks in charred shreds. One of the older women, Sara, held two small children to her bosom as she fled out of the swirling smoke’s way.

“This is all your fault!” Riella jumped at the sound of the hateful voice. “You brought us so much bad luck with your wayward ways, it’s a miracle we’re not all dead and with the spirits, simply for having known you. I don’t know how you can live with yourself. You’re so polluted, you must be black inside!”

The woman finished her tirade with a harsh noise, and next she knew, Riella felt a glob of slimy mucus stick on her right cheek. She didn’t dare move a muscle, even after the soft jangle of the woman’s bangles died off in the distance. Unnatural fear clenched her heart with a physical hurt that rooted her to the spot. She was afraid to turn or wipe the spit off, worried about the vile words as much as the ridiculous possibility she may have, indeed, caused something so dreadful to happen to her people. She may have moved out, got a job and a house of her own, but that didn’t mean she loved them any less. They were her people, her kin, and she was proud of them all, proud to have been born and raised in their midst.

Tears sprung forth from her eyes and she sniffed as quietly as possible, trembling in the wake of such devastation. A strong arm circled her shoulders and she jumped, then her brain processed the fact that it was a male arm, solid and well-muscled, and she relaxed slightly. She wiped her cheek on her sleeve as he tightened his arm and drew her to his chest.

“No one’s hurt, you know,” he said, and she sobbed louder.

“Kai,” she murmured.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Come, let’s take you to your father, so you can see for yourself.”

She sniffed again, wiped her nose on her sleeve and let him drag her away from the commotion. Outside the door to his caravan, she stopped him.

“I need to know, Kai. I need to know what’s going on, and I need to know right now.”

She was the king’s daughter, his only offspring, and she knew only too well what happened when a king grew weak in her world. She let her frustration at being shunned, resentment at her own inability to do more to protect her father from afar and self-hate at the scarcity of her own visits, mingle with the horror of the night, the very clear possibility that her father had been targeted, and then added to the mix a healthy dose of anger. Kai had known her all her life. He would understand. He would tell her.

Kai stared at her, unsmiling, for a long moment, deliberating. She gave him time. Eventually, his features tightened. A muscle in his jaw twitched, then he grabbed her by the arm and led her away, into the shadows.

“Come. I don’t like it, but you deserve to know.”

Look for Ella Medler on online book stores.

The Witchwood Estate Series.

Patti Roberts.