Tarnished Journey: Historical Paranormal Romance (Soul Dance Book 4) Read online

  “Aye aye, captain.” Jamal snapped off a salute. “Alexandria was a busy port, but I’ve never even been on a ship.”

  “Let’s get moving. Yara, Elliott, Tairin, come with me,” Stewart said. “We’ll regroup when we’re on the docks. Keep your eyes peeled for a likely looking sailboat. It doesna have to be huge to accommodate all of us.”

  “What about Meara and Nivkh?” Jamal asked, obviously concerned about his shifter kin.

  “I’ll try to reach them when we get closer,” Stewart replied.

  “I’ve been calling Meara for a while now,” Jamal admitted. “Nothing.”

  “We shouldn’t leave without them,” Yara murmured. Worry filled her. It felt wrong to pull anchor—assuming they found a boat—when two of their group might be in grave danger.

  “Meara would tell us to go.” Jamal’s tone was grim.

  “So would Nivkh,” the driver said. “Best gift we can give them is to not get ourselves sunk so deep into something we need their assistance.”

  No one said much after that, and the others were forming groups when hers left the truck behind. The track the driver pointed out was easy to follow at first, but it soon devolved into a tangle of roots and thick mud that tugged at her feet with every step. Her boot with the hole took on mud and became heavy. A steady drizzle started, the kind that meant she’d be wet to her skin soon.

  The tree cover gave way to tilled fields crisscrossed by irrigation ditches. Yara hunted for the walkway she knew had to be there. Otherwise the farmer wouldn’t be able to tend his crops without slogging through hip-deep water.

  “Over here.” She used telepathy.

  “Nay, lass. No magic unless ’tis absolutely necessary,” Stewart said softly.

  “Sorry. Mind if I stop for a moment?”

  “Is something wrong?” Elliott asked.

  “My boot is full of mud. I’ll be faster if I clear it out.” She undid her laces and pulled off the boot, balancing on her other foot as she dug clods of squishy muck out of the worn leather.

  “There.” She slid her foot back into the boot and laced it. “I’m used to wet.”

  Stewart strode briskly along the path she’d found. She wanted to reach out with her magic and make certain the others had located easy passage through the interminable fields that surrounded every town, but Stewart had been most clear about not deploying power.

  They reached the end of the field, skirting a darkened farmhouse. A dog barked twice, but then quieted. They followed a dirt road toward the sound of breakers crashing against a distant shore. Years back, the town’s lights would have come into view, but everyone was conserving power these days. True to Yara’s prediction, the persistent drizzle meant she was wet down to her underclothes. Not that she had much left in the way of such things. When she stole clothing, she’d focused on practical pieces like skirts and jackets. Panties fell into the nice, but not important category.

  She gave herself a mental shake to rein in her wandering thoughts.

  Dirt gave way to asphalt, and the salt tang of the sea stung her nostrils.

  Stewart stopped until she drew abreast of him. “Which way, lass?”

  She pointed to a street. “It’s as good as any other.”

  Tairin and Elliott joined them. Tairin shook water off herself. “I’d feel better if we were invisible.”

  Stewart drew his brows together. “How much farther?”

  “Maybe a quarter hour at a quick clip,” Yara replied.

  His gaze roved over the dark, silent streets with water running down them and into the gutter system. “Conserve your power for now. There’s no one to see and remember us. If that changes, so will we.”

  The expression on Tairin’s face said she didn’t agree with his assessment, but Elliott slipped an arm through hers and tugged her forward. Yara followed them with Stewart next to her. They’d walked single file through the field and into town, but the paved road was plenty wide enough to accommodate them two abreast.

  The central part of town was as silent as the outskirts had been. Not that Yara spent much time in towns, but usually taverns remained open well into the night.

  Just because they used to doesn’t mean they do now, she corrected herself.

  Her brief forays into town always coincided with midday when crowds would help hide her presence. In truth, she had no idea what happened the rest of the time.

  “Did the Dutch government declare a curfew?” Stewart breathed into her ear.

  “I don’t know.”

  He drew in a sharp breath, seeming to have come to a difficult decision. “Ye get your wish.” He touched Tairin’s shoulder. “If this town is under curfew, we risk more this way than we would being invisible.”

  “Thank the goddess,” Tairin muttered just before she and Elliott vanished in a shimmery current of magic.

  “Lass?” Stewart skewered her with his shrewd, dark eyes.

  “I’ve never leveraged magic to do that, but I can try.”

  He shook his head. “Now isna the time for experiments. Stand near to me, and I will shield the both of us.”

  She was already so close her shoulder touched his. The scent of his magic, sea and winter greenery, rose around her, and she inhaled hungrily. Something about the man by her side sang to her soul. For just a moment, she lost herself in magic that was arcane, seductive, and weaving itself about her in a protective arc.

  When he started walking, his power drew her along.

  Chapter 5

  Stewart wanted to add his arms to the magic he wrapped around Yara, drawing her against his chest, but that would be ill-advised. They had to find a ship and be well gone before daylight turned the docks into a bustling mass of humanity. He needed to sort out why he was so attracted to the gypsy woman, but that required time. A commodity he was short of just now.

  Deployed magic made it easy to locate the rest of them, all of whom had opted to shroud themselves in invisibility spells. He worried about the surfeit of power surrounding them. More than a dozen magic wielders, all invisible, packed a hell of a punch, but so far no one had emerged from the shadows to confront them.

  “Follow me. I think we located a boat,” Ilona whispered.

  “We got close enough to determine no one has used it in a long time. Maybe years,” Jamal concurred.

  “It’s big and really, really nice,” Aron added, keeping his voice low.

  “Show me,” Stewart said. “No conversation between here and there.”

  Everyone nodded, and Jamal turned and headed north along a well-kept road. Two and three-story houses lined the side not fronting on the bay. From the looks of things, most had been built in the seventeen- and eighteen-hundreds. Mirroring the condition of the street, they’d been updated and were in good repair.

  Letting go of the spell that kept him shielded from sight, Jamal tossed his leg over a barrier and led them down a wooden dock riddled with holes, some large enough to fall through. An enormous rat poked his snout through one of the hollows, whiskers quivering with curiosity and beady eyes trained on them. Once it discovered they were too big to eat, it vanished back through the hole.

  The rat looked well-fed. Stewart smothered a smile. Rodents would survive any war. They always did. Corpses made for a rich diet.

  Jamal stopped and pointed. “That one.”

  “Loose your spells, all of you,” Stewart said as he took in an older cutter, maybe sixty feet long. Its naked mast rose, and he wondered what kind of shape the sails were in. He scanned it for signs of life with a quick blast of magic.

  “What do you think?” Jamal had sidled next to him.

  “’Tis floating, which is auspicious,” Stewart muttered. Once they were aboard, they were committed. They wouldn’t have the luxury of trying out several ships to find the perfect one.

  Cadr scooted up a ladder and dropped onto the deck. Vreis followed his brother. Stewart didn’t need to ask what they were about. They’d check for canvas that wasn’t too rotted to make
good use of wind. The vessel probably had an auxiliary engine, but the odds of there being sufficient fuel to move them across the North Sea wasn’t good.

  “Sails are decent,” Cadr sent.

  Stewart motioned everyone aboard, but Jamal hung back once he’d helped Ilona and Aron with the rope ladder. “What about the first shifters, Meara and Nivkh?” He focused his voice right next to Stewart’s ear.

  “They’re not here, and we canna wait for them.”

  “Same conclusion I’d come to, but I don’t like it.”

  “Nor do I. Now go. I’ll untie the boat. Hope to hell it doesna sink.”

  “Is there a chance of that?” Jamal’s normally calm veneer took on an anxious cast. “I did my best to assess the hull with magic. It’s intact, and—”

  “Go. We’ll deal with the rest of this once we’re out of here.” Stewart glanced at the night sky. “’Twill be light in an hour, mayhap less. We have to transit the bay afore anyone notices us and alerts the authorities.”

  “Why would they? No one’s sailed this thing in a long time.”

  “Aye, and it worries me a wee bit. Boats this large are expensive, and this one appears to be in good repair. Why abandon it if there’s not something amiss we’re not seeing?”

  “The owner might have died. Or had his property confiscated by the authorities.”

  “Hang onto that optimism. I fear ’twill be needed afore we reach port on the far side of the North Sea.” Stewart gave Jamal a small shove. “Get moving.”

  The shifter shut his mouth with an audible clack and tackled the rope ladder hanging down the side of the boat.

  Stewart unwound ropes from the rusty bollards and let them trail into the water. They’d draw them into the vessel and coil them once they were underway. He double checked that he’d gotten everything and was ready to clamber aboard when the distinctive stench of vampire burned his nostrils.

  Goddammit!

  They were so close to freedom. To have a pitched battle with vampires out in the open would be certain to attract attention. The type of attention that would ensure they never left Holland. The presence of vampires so near the border crossing argued they weren’t skulking about in the shadows. No doubt they’d cut some juicy deal with the Dutch government, much as they had with the Nazis in Germany.

  Naught I can do about it other than move this craft away from shore as fast as I can.

  He skipped the rope ladder and used magic to catapult himself over the railing. Cadr and Vreis were raising the canvas. “Hurry,” he sputtered.

  “Aye, we smell the bastards too,” Cadr said and finished clipping the mainsail to the mast and the boom.

  Stewart grabbed a halyard, pulling hard to get the sail in place. Vreis joined him. “I doona understand why this boat was abandoned. ’Tis in respectable shape.”

  “I mentioned that same discrepancy to Jamal,” Stewart grunted, tugging harder to muscle the sail into place.

  “What can we do?” Gregor asked. “I already gathered everyone who carries silver and amulets in one spot.”

  Jamal trotted close. “Vampires never did like water.”

  “Say more.” Stewart gritted his teeth together.

  “It mutes their power. I’m not certain of the mechanism, but it seems to push them closer to the death they skirted by becoming vampires. I’ve seen ones driven close to the Nile age dramatically.”

  “Let’s hope they dinna locate an antidote,” Cadr muttered and wrapped rope around cleats to secure the mainsail.

  “Does this thing have an engine?” Michael cast a nervous look in the direction the vampires were closing from.

  “Let’s find out.” Jamal took off for the stern with Michael right behind him.

  “Engine room will be below decks,” Stewart called after them.

  “You can’t leave,” Gregor shouted. “You have silver.”

  “Back soon.” Michael moved faster.

  The boat rocked easily, freed from its moorings, but there wasn’t much in the way of wind, and the canvas flapped where rain pelted it. After floating a few yards from the dock, the craft bobbed atop the incoming tide. Stewart dropped the illusion that had protected him for so long. Druids were weather workers. It was what made them such effective stewards of the elements. The next moments would reveal him for what he was, but that was bound to happen sooner or later.

  “Sheathe your power,” he cautioned the shifters and Rom standing in a tight group.

  “Why?” Gregor asked. “Whatever you have in mind, we’re stronger together—”

  “I will be summoning the wind to our aid. If ye have skills in that regard, toss them into the mix. If not, doona make my task more difficult. Cadr. Vreis. To me.”

  The men flanked him and raised their hands skyward, gathering power. Part of the Druid brotherhood, they’d stood by his side before they left the Old Country. Perhaps proximity to him had kept them young, but neither showed any sign of their years.

  “Whatever you’re about, hurry,” Ilona cried. “Goddammit! I see the vampires. Three of them. They’re on the dock, but not moving all that fast.”

  “They wouldn’t be,” Tairin said. “Water saps them. That gangway had huge gaps in it, and they’ll be doing everything possible to conserve their power.”

  “We’re too far from the dock for them to jump,” Elliott pointed out.

  “You could jump it with a magical assist,” Tairin countered. “Join your magic with mine. All the rest of us can do the same. Make a line and anchor it with magic. Let’s not make this easy for them.”

  Stewart focused on Danu, Celtic mother goddess of the world and Arianrhod, whose moon was just dipping below the horizon. He asked for strength and aid against evil. A light breeze rose, pooching out the canvas a little, but not enough to move a boat this size.

  He glanced over one shoulder to catch a glimpse of the vampires. There were indeed three, their unholy beauty illuminated in a glow that flowed from each of them. They chanted in a demonic tongue, and black-tipped flames brightened the glow around them. The smells of sulfur and ozone burned his nose and throat. The slight breeze he’d summoned pooled around him and died. Worse, the boat rocked harder. It was almost impossible to capsize a sailboat because of all the weight in their keels, but dark magic was afoot.

  Dark magic that didn’t want them to leave.

  Water might weaken the vampires, but the effect didn’t appear to be an immediate one.

  Cadr grasped one hand, Vreis the other. “We can do this,” Cadr said in Gaelic.

  “We have to,” Stewart countered and ripped his attention away from the vampires. If they could have bridged the gap and jumped aboard, they’d already be here.

  He dug deep, down into the secrets hidden within the earth beneath them. Water shielded those mysteries, muted them, and he exhorted it to step aside and let earth’s beauty and might shine through.

  The moon brightened where it hung suspended above the place where water and horizon met, and a silver-strewn path formed along the water’s surface. The wind that had been anemic, reluctant, moments before rose around them in a howling, punishing gale that drove the ever-present rain into his upturned face.

  “Aye. Now that’s more like it.” Vreis shaped and formed power until it arced outward from his outstretched hands.

  Cadr did the same, and Stewart herded their magic until it forced the wind to stop swirling mindlessly and do their bidding. The sail filled, and the boat lurched forward, narrowly missing a boat moored to the next dock over.

  “I’ll man the helm.” Cadr shouted to make himself heard above the wind. “Just keep that magic flowing.” He made a grab for the wheel, unlocking it from where it was tied to hold the rudder in place.

  Stewart couldn’t have shut off the flow of power if he wanted to. Long years had passed since he’d practiced magic as a Druid and not as a Romani. The experience was as different as fussing with finger paints compared to painting the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling. One took ver
y little skill. The other more ability than a man could master no matter how long he lived.

  Breath whistled from his lungs as he and Vreis shaped the flow of wind, keeping it aimed right at their sail. As he’d hoped when he first noticed it, the silvery path of moonlight drew their vessel like a lodestone. They scudded along it as if Ariahrhod had formed it just for them. Who knew? Perhaps she had.

  He wanted to know what was happening with the vampires, but couldn’t move even an iota of his concentration from his spell. Druid spells were all-encompassing. They dragged every last whit of effort out of a man, and then demanded still more.

  If the vampires had boarded, he’d know about it. They hadn’t, and that would have to be good enough for now.

  The hum of the boat’s engine stuttering to life reminded him of Michael and Jamal. “Shut it off.” He used telepathy because he could no more have left his post than he could have loosed the magic using him as a lightning rod. Once Druid power had him in thrall, it left when it was good and ready to leave. Not a moment sooner.

  Vreis tightened his grip on Stewart’s hand. “Damn, this feels good.” He laughed into the face of the rollicking wind. “I’d forgotten.”

  “No ye hadna. Not really,” Stewart countered.

  The magic did feel good. More than that, it felt right, scouring him clean of everything non-essential. Under Cadr’s skilled hands, the ship took full advantage of the wind and moved briskly toward the breakwater separating Harlingen’s bay from the North Sea.

  Jamal and Michael trotted into view wearing very different expressions. Jamal appeared fascinated, but Michael’s face trod a line between distress and fury. He shook a fist at Stewart. “You lied to me. Bastard. How could you pass yourself off as Romani all the years I’ve known you?”

  “Not now.” Stewart lassoed a thread of power headed right for Michael. Druid magic was a jealous mistress, quick to mete out punishment for any who criticized it.

  Jamal dropped a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s join the others. At least we got the engine going. Thanks to you. Never knew what an ace mechanic you were.”