Blood Curse (Branded Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

Pril moaned and tossed her head. Her petite body had slowed its restless shaking. Kade reached for the blanket on the bed to cover her legs and torso.

The child crossed his legs and grabbed his mother’s hand, holding it within his own.

Kade could see the bond between them. He cleared his throat as memories of the past, and the reasons he was here, slammed into him. He stole a peek at the kid and wondered again if the child he searched for was among these gypsies.

Loud angry steps came through the doorway, and he wasn’t shocked to see Galius standing before them.

“Release my sister,” he growled and wiped at the cut on his lip, missing the other one above his right eye.

Kade smirked. His opponent had gotten in a few good ones.

“I could’ve escaped without you or the others knowing, but instead I am here tending to your very sick sister,” he said with an air to his voice that told the other man he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Boy, go.”

The child gazed at his mother and back to his uncle.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll see to it,” Galius said.

“Actually, I’ve seen to it. With the help of the child of course.”

The man growled low in his throat, and Kade never moved.

The boy stood. His green eyes locked with Kade’s, and he couldn’t pull his gaze away. What was it about the boy that had him in some sort of trance? His head snapped to the side, when Galius struck his cheek.

“What the hell?” he mumbled before he fell over unconscious.

Pril woke with Tsura curled up next to her like a cat. Without turning her head she knew Galius was in the room. His loud breathing sounded like the ox outside.

“You have no need of your own vardo, Brother?” she asked.

He was at the table, reading their mother’s spell book. She sat up, pausing halfway because her ribs hurt. She slowed her movements to ease the pain. She placed her hand to her chest. The burn? There was no pain. Where had it gone? She inspected her chest covered in a white night shirt and lifted the fabric. There was nothing. The skin appeared the same. Had she imagined it? Had it been a terrible dream?

“The child healed you,” Galius said quietly.

She shifted Tsura from her and covered the girl with the thick blanket before she crawled out of the bed.

“How?”

Galius held the book up.

“A spell? She used a spell on me?”

“Her hands.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The child can heal with her hands.”

Pril peeked back at her daughter curled into the blanket and snoring softly.

“Were you here? Did you see?”

“I did.”

Shocked at the news, she moved about the vardo in a daze. Tea she needed tea. She filled the pot with water and placed it on the burner to heat while Galius stoked the fire. Once the tea was made she sat down across from him.

“Tell me all of it.”

“I found the healing spell and read it to her while she placed her hands over your wounds. The flesh healed right before my eyes.” He shook his head. “I still cannot believe what I saw.”

“Which spell was it?”

Galius flipped through the book and showed her the healing spell. This was the same spell she used when applying herbs to a wound. It was to keep infection and pain away. It was not for removing the wound in its entirety.

“This cannot be. The spell you have pointed to is to aid in healing, not vanish it as if it never happened.”

“I assure you this is the one.”

Galius’ eyes spoke the truth but it didn’t make sense. How could the child heal without words, without a spell?

“Vadoma could not do such things. Cast spells, throw a beam, yes, but to heal the flesh with her own hands she could not.”

“Her child can.”

“But how?”

He shrugged, a sentiment she felt as well but one best kept a secret.

“Her powers are far more than what we thought,” Galius said, and he didn’t seem happy about it.

“Yes, all the more reason to protect her.”

“We are to have counsel with Milosh at midday.”

Her stomach flipped, and she shook her head.

“Yes.”

“You saw him last night. What good can come of this?”

“There is need, and you will be there if I have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

Galius stood and without another word exited the vardo.

Pril wrapped her hands around the cup. How could Tsura heal without the words? Without the knowledge and aiding of a Chuvani? Pressure built on her chest when she thought of what could come of the gift the child had. People would hunt her—kill her even. She lifted the mug to her lips and held it there, allowing the warmth to heat her skin. The need to protect her daughter even more than she already had filled her soul and dripped from her eyes.
I must prepare to leave soon.

“Milosh is waiting for us in the field.”

Pril tilted her head. She could not meet Galius’ eye for fear she’d burst into hysterics.
I will not let him take my daughter.
Milosh suggested it years before, and she’d begged him to let Tsura stay.

The set of Galius’ shoulders, and the grim look upon his handsome face spoke volumes. He turned, and Pril had no choice but to follow. She knew what Milosh wanted, and she knew she’d fight him on it.

They walked into the thick of the woods. Tall pine and elm trees shadowed them from the sun. She stepped over gnarled roots and broken branches. The shaded forest was a reflection of what she knew was to come.

Relieved to be exiting the woody confines, they stepped into a lush field of green grass. She inhaled the fresh clean scent and the sweet fragrance of dandelions.

Milosh stood in the tall grass, his once strong body now frail and thin from grief. A black eye and swollen lip were evidence of his fight with Galius the night before. She hadn’t spoken to her brother since the death of his child. He’d avoided her, but in truth she’d made no attempt to comfort him. She stared at the ground too afraid to look at him now. How could she after what she’d done?

Galius stopped, and they stood facing each other.

“She has to go,” Milosh growled.

“No,” Pril gasped, and when she met her brother’s eyes she stumbled backward from the hate evident there.

Galius sighed beside her and placed his large arm over her shoulder. Rather than calm her, the gesture did nothing but alert her senses and caused her back to go rigid.

“Pril understands we cannot have any more disasters,” he said.

“The child is evil and must be taken from the clan,” Milosh argued.

Galius nodded.

She gaped at him, shocked at his behavior. “You agree with him? You’d take my child?”

Galius averted his eyes and nodded.

“I asked you if I should go. You said no.”

“Yes, and you shouldn’t.”

“But the child must,” Milosh growled.

“I will not have it!” Pril shoved Galius’ arm from her and turned to Milosh. “Brother, I am sorry, so sorry that Alexandra is gone.” Her voice quavered.

“I cannot seem to find one reason why the child needs to stay,” Milosh said.

“She is my daughter. That is reason enough.”

“I will take her somewhere safe,” Galius said.

“She is safe with me.”

“No one is safe from the girl, not even you,” Milosh snapped.

“The child is your niece,” Pril spoke, and anger spiked her words.

“She is of mixed blood, a reaction to Vadoma’s betrayal.”

Pril would die before she’d allow them to take Tsura. Anger resonated inside her and swirled to rage.

“She is mine.”

“She is a curse!” Milosh yelled and stepped toward her.

Pril stood her ground. He may be taller than her, but she’d fight him on this. “You will not touch my daughter.”

Galius slid his strong arms between them.

“You hide her. That is not the solution,” he said.

“Of course I hide her. They will kill her otherwise.”

“The very reason she has to go,” Milosh shouted.

Pril could not believe her ears. She bent, arms wrapped around her stomach as the truth of their betrayal slammed into her. Tears filled her eyes, and she squeezed them shut.

“We love Tsura as much as you do, but she has put our clan in danger far too many times,” Galius said.

“You have betrayed me, Brother. You spoke words that I thought honest and true.” She spat at his feet. “You are a liar.”

Galius hung his head.

“I cannot allow this.” She straightened and glared at her brothers. “I will not allow it.”

“You have no choice,” Milosh said. “If you do not agree to rid the clan of the child, I will go to the Monroes myself. I will tell them of Tsura.”

“No,” Pril gasped.

“I forbid that, Brother. We cannot turn the child over to her death,” Galius reasoned.

“But you will take her from her mother, the only one who loves her?”

“I love Tsura,” Galius spoke.

“Lies! They spew from your mouth causing my eyes to water,” Pril hissed.

“She will go,” Milosh growled.

“She is but a child. She is innocent.”

Milosh shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his pitted cheeks sunken in, and his full lips shifted downward into a permanent frown. It was clear he couldn’t stand her presence.

“And since the Monroes have made no attempt at hiding the fact they’re searching for a child with a mark behind her left ear it will be easy to tell them of yours.”

Pril frowned at Milosh. “The Monroes do not care about the mark. They are killing any gypsy girl-child they find.”

Milosh groaned, and his face twisted.

The sound sliced through her, cutting away a small piece of her soul.

A thick tear dropped onto his cheek, and she went to him. He slashed at her arms with his own. “Do not comfort me.”

She tried to be brave, to be honest and loving, but the agony she saw within his gaze knocked the air from her lungs and bowed her head in shame.

“It is because of you my daughter has died. Bile rises within my throat, and fire scorches my insides when I think of you and your child.”

Pril sucked in a sob as her body shook from his horrible words.

“Milosh, that is enough,” Galius growled.

“I despise you,” he went on.

A sob escaped her pursed lips, and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

“Look at me, Sister,” Milosh screamed. “Look at me damn it!”

She mustered all the courage she had left from his brutal assault of the truth and lifted her eyes to his.

“I want nothing from you, but to never see your child’s face again.”

“You cannot get those words back. You’ve said too much.” Galius stepped between them.

“I have not said enough.” Milosh shoved Galius aside. He grabbed her chin and forced her face upward. His fingers dug into her skin as he squeezed. “The only thing that is saving you from my pistol is the blood that runs through your body.” He spat into her face before walking away.

Pril fell to her knees within the tall grass and wept.

“He still mourns,” Galius said as he knelt beside her.

“He speaks the truth, and I cannot gaze in the mirror without seeing what I have brought upon us.”

He sighed, and she knew he felt it, too.

How could she stay, knowing that her own brothers blamed her and Tsura for Alexandra’s death? She wouldn’t abandon her child, and so she must abandon them.

“Leave me, Brother,” she whispered.

“Pril—”

“Leave me to weep for all the wrong I have done.”

He placed a light kiss on the top of her head. “I will take Tsura tomorrow when the moon is bright. I will keep her safe, Pril. I promise.” The grass rustled as he walked away.

She watched him go, knowing it would be the last time she’d see him.

Kade woke tied to a chair.

“Shit.”

He was in the same wagon he’d been in earlier. He whipped his head back and shook the chair. The wooden legs creaked and shifted, but the ropes wrapped around his limbs didn’t budge. He growled low in his throat and gnashed his teeth together until his jaw ached. This was the thanks he got for helping the gypsy.

Damn it. He should’ve headed straight into the forest, and to hell with the lot of them. He spat onto the floor. Disgust bubbled inside of him and turned the cauldron of fury brewing within his gut.

The wagon was black. He couldn’t see a foot in front of him. Which direction was the doorway? He sighed. What did it matter? He was stuck here for now. He tapped his fingers on the armrest. None of this made sense. Why were they determined to lock him up especially after he helped Pril? He shuddered. The burns on her skin were atrocious, and he could only imagine the agony she’d feel when she woke.

Thank the saints he still had his coat, the navy blue fabric with the woolen liner inside, the note sewn between them. He’d been searching for the child for four months—four long, endless months. He’d visited every gypsy camp this side of the colonies. He even ventured onto Spanish land and still nothing.

He was tired, exhausted really, but this was important. He gave his word. A life depended on him. He was bound to his promise, and there was no turning back. He missed the sea, the smell of the water, the wind in his hair and the hint of salt when he licked his lips.

He’d spent most of his life on the large vessels, traveling from port to port, docking on the shores of Spain, London and the Africas many times. His life was full—charming and risky, and he loved every minute of it. Once he found the child, he’d return her to the Monroes. Soon he’d get back what was his and be on his ship sailing the deep blue seas once again.

The wagon shook. Boots scraped the steps. Kade waited. The door opened. A woman’s silhouette stood in the moonlight.
Pril.
She closed the door quietly behind her and came toward him.

“Mr. Walker?” she whispered.

“What do you want?”

She shuffled her feet across the floor until she knocked her knee into the chair and collapsed on top of him. Her hair tumbled onto his face, and he sputtered, trying to remove the long strands from his mouth.

She shoved her hand into his cheek and pushed herself from him.

“My apologies.”

The scent of rosemary lingered in the air. Out of all the herbs she worked with this one clung to her skin like a whore’s cheap perfume. He decided he liked the herbs much better.

“I’d have helped you, but I’m tied to this damn chair.”

“Why are you not on the cot?

No one told her he’d come to her aid the night before?

“I tried to escape but you were injured. Somehow you burned yourself, and I helped your son by placing herbs on your wounds.”

He didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath or the scrape of her shoes as she rocked from side to side.

“How did you end up here then?”

“Your brother thanked me by knocking me out when I wasn’t looking.” It still got his blood hot when he thought of how Galius had duped him. He was never caught off guard. He was the captain of his own ship damn it. He knew the rules. Always face your opponent, never turn your back, and be prepared for anything to happen. He’d fought in many brothels with men twice his size. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost, but he never backed down when challenged. Galius was a coward. He’d attacked him when he was unaware, and he’d be sure to settle the score.

“Blast.”

“Not quite what I was thinking.”

“Mr. Walker—

“Kade. Call me Kade.”

“Very well. Kade, I need your help, and in return I will set you free.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need you to take me and my son to Charleston.”

“What for?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“I’d say it is if I’m to take you there.”

She was silent, and he could feel the irritation pour from her body to settle at his feet in a pool of anger.

He opened his mouth to tell her that he’d not help her when something struck the side of the wagon. The smell of smoldering wood filled the room.

“What was that?”

“Untie me.”

“Not until we have a deal.”

“There will be no deal if we burn to death.”

“I do not understand.”

“The bloody wagons on fire!”

“Oh…oh dear!”

She made quick work of loosening his bonds enough so that he could wrench his hands free. He grabbed her hand, pulled her toward the doorway and outside into the cool night air.

The sky lit up as Pril took in the scene before her. Several vardos were on fire, and she watched horrified as her clan raced about with buckets of water trying to put out the flames.

She gasped. Her own wagon blazed as red and orange flames danced high into the sky.
Tsura.

“No. No. No!” She clawed at Kade to release her. She needed to save her baby.
God, no, please not Tsura.
When his arms slackened she wiggled free. She bunched her skirt in both hands, lifted it high off of the ground and took off running. Her heart hammered inside her chest, wanting to break free of the flesh. The commotion around her faded, her ears rang, and she couldn’t think past saving her daughter.

She raced up the steps and burst into the room. Smoke filled her lungs, clinging to the inside of her cheeks, and she placed a palm over her mouth. Her eyes watered, and she blinked several times to clear her vision.

“Tsura! Tsura!” She went to the bed and frantically slapped the mattress for the girl’s body. She pulled at the empty blankets and tossed them onto the floor. The fire licked at the quilt, quickly smothering it in bright orange flames. She turned and ran into a hard chest.

Kade.

“I cannot find her.” She coughed, trying to suck in clean air.

“You need to get out of here.”

“No.” She twisted out of his embrace, dropped onto her knees to look under the table and bed. Tsura wasn’t there.

Panic clawed at her soul, and she pushed it away determined to find her daughter.

“The child isn’t here,” Kade shouted.

She ignored him.

“Come out baby. Mama’s here.”

A fiery beam slipped from the roof of the wooden wagon and landed on top of the bed. Pril jumped back.

“Tsura!”

A muscled arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her feet from the floor and out into the night air. She clawed at him to let her go.

“What is the matter with you?” She shoved him from her.

His square jaw was smudged with black soot. His long hair had come undone from the tie he used to secure it and hung past his shoulders.

“I need to find my child.”

“You will not find him in there!” He motioned to the wagon engulfed in flames. The roof whined as it collapsed, shooting debris and sparks into the black sky.

Pril wanted to scream, to drop to her knees and sob, but instead she set her shoulders against the hopelessness that wanted to consume her. She would not fall apart. She needed to find Tsura.

Sorina ran by with a bucket in her hands.

“Tsura? Have you seen her?”

The other woman looked at Kade, her blue eyes round with worry, and shook her head.

She ran her hands through her hair and pulled at the long strands. This was not happening. Who had attacked them? Was it the Monroes? Had they taken Tsura? Her stomach flipped. Did her daughter lay under the smoldering debris injured or worse, dead? She shook her head unable to accept any of it. She scanned the chaos around her, searching for black curls and a white night shirt.
Please…please.

Galius and Stefan ran toward her. She raced to meet them. She needed her brother—his strength, his calm rational thoughts, but most of all his love.

“What is it?” Galius asked, his large hunting bow at the ready in his hand.

“Tsura, I cannot find her.”

He peered behind her for his niece.

“Brother, I have searched.” She wiped the tear on her cheek. “She is not here.”

“Stefan, go to the south side of the forest and look for Tsura. Kill any Renoldi you see.”

Without question, the man took off toward the tree line.

“Renoldi?” she asked.

His eyes shifted from hers, and she knew he didn’t want her to know.

“The gypsy clan has attacked us.”

“Tsura?”

“They know she is here.”

“But…oh no.” Tears flooded her eyes. “Not Milosh?”

He nodded.

Panic kicked her heart into spasms and pushed the breath from her lungs to lodge into her throat. She bent, clutching her stomach and moaned.

He knelt in front of her. “We will find her.”

She threw herself into his arms, and together they stood.

“What can I do to help?” Kade asked beside them now.

Galius flexed his jaw, and his hold on Pril tightened.

“Brother, we need his help. We need to find—”

“Head to the east side of the forest,” Galius said.

Kade nodded.

“Wait. You’re going to need this.” Galius handed him a pistol and a pouch containing a black powder flask and some lead musket balls.

“Thanks.”

An arrow whizzed from the darkness and struck Galius in the back. Before he could retaliate, two more drove into the skin beside the first. He groaned and fell forward. Pril grabbed the bow from his hand and two arrows from his quiver. She rolled to the left, positioned an arrow within the string and released it into the night sky. Another arrow flew through the air to lodge into the ground between her and Galius. She glanced at her brother, quiet and breathing hard, as blood seeped from his back.

“Hold on, Brother.”

Kade fired the gun from behind a burning vardo. It’d take him longer to load, the pistol only able to hold two lead balls at a time. Pril waited. Most of the Peddlers ran to the unburned vardos to gather their weapons. An arrow dug into the ground two inches from her right side. She inhaled and waited.

A war cry echoed from the forest followed by the trampling of feet. Men burst through the tree line, torches, arrows, knives and pistols pointed at the Peddler camp. Arrows lit up the sky as the Peddlers fought to keep their clan safe and charged toward the intruders.

Pril ran to a vardo that wasn’t on fire and readied her bow. She peeked around the corner, aimed and released. The arrow struck its mark, and the man fell onto the ground. She ducked back around the wagon ready to do it again when she was yanked backward against a hard chest. A thick arm wrapped around her neck.

She tried to push against him, but his arm only tightened. There was nothing in front of her to anchor her feet onto and push into him. Unable to move her head, she couldn’t see what was to her side. With no other choice, she took her bow and slammed it into the top of the man’s foot, pushing the pointed end through his flesh.

He howled, and when his grip loosened she spun to face him, brought her knee up and slammed it into his groin. He bent, and she kneed him in the nose, finishing with a kick to the gut.

The pop from a pistol rang in her ears, and she turned to see Kade standing a few feet from her, another Renoldi dead on the ground beside her.

She met Kade’s eyes for a mere second before she took off toward Galius’ vardo and more arrows.
Tsura. Where are you?
She scanned the camp. Vardos smoldered pushing smoke high into the starless sky. Bows released, knives clashed, pistols fired filling the night air with their raucous disregard as the clan fought off the enemy. She shoved the fear, the agony of what may be from her mind and ran. She’d find Tsura…if she died this night, so be it.

A wooden chest sat underneath Galius’ wagon. She opened it and pulled out five arrows. An extra quiver lay on the ground beside the trunk, and she slung it around her arm to rest against her back. She shoved the arrows into the quiver and ran back toward the center of camp where the fighting still took place.

A horn blew from the east, and she watched as the Renoldis retreated back into the forest.

She ran after them.

“Cowards! Come back!” She couldn’t let them go. They had Tsura. She pulled an arrow and aimed it at the back of a Renoldi when she was knocked to the ground. The bow flew from her hands to land a few feet from her.

Kade lay on top of her.

She kicked, punched and bit his forearm until he cried out and released her.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” he asked, holding his arm.

“You let them get away!”

“You’re insane.” He stood and brushed his pant legs, throwing small bits of dirt and twigs onto the ground.