Her head shot up, mouth a firm determined line. “No.”
He laughed before running a hand over the book’s cover, feeling the burnt pattern in the leather rough under his palm. His expression darkened with his mood, a roiling twist of emotion rising up from his gut to tug at his chest. “The Fey-bloods know we exist, Callista. What they do with this knowledge is still anyone’s guess, though if your brother and Corey are any indication, it won’t be pretty. And what are the fucking Ossine doing while danger to the clans looms? The whoreson bastards are hunting their own people down and slaughtering them. The Fey-bloods won’t need to lift a finger. We’ll destroy ourselves.”
His fingers dug into the book, frustration and fury crowding his vision.
“But, David, if Beskin is willing to kill for the book and you have the book, do you think he’s still”—her gaze shot to the door—“following us?”
He took a deep breath, focused on the worry lines wrinkling Callista’s brow, the shine of her hair in the light of the lamp, the hollows and curves picked out in the flickering light. It helped to ease his rage, but his frustration doubled. “Eudo Beskin is one of the Ossine’s most brutal enforcers, but he’s a scavenger. He prefers to finish the nasty job others have started for him. On the run, I stand at least a fifty-fifty chance. Seventy-thirty, hidden among Oakham’s motley band of misfits. But it should be only a few more days. I’ve sent a message to Gray.”
“And once the book is delivered, will you finally be safe?”
“There is no safe for me. No forever. The curse took that away.” He shoved the book back into his saddlebag, buckled the flaps, and placed it back within the cupboard among Big Knox’s painted silver plates and blunted steel knives. Flashed her a bright smile, only slightly ragged at the edges. “And on that happy note, I’ll go face Oakham and his mules.”
She grabbed his arm. “That’s it? You just give up hope? Surrender without a fight?”
He slammed to his feet, the bed behind him too big, too soft, too close. Callista looked up at him with challenge in her eyes. What would she do if he took her up on her dare? It was a question he’d asked himself every night since they began sharing this rolling cupboard, lying side by side in a purgatory of sweet-smelling skin, soft curling hair, and luscious curves. Then he would close his eyes, the dream would come, and his answer would be clear as the death he saw over and over.
“Do you think I just rolled over and accepted my fate without a whimper? Damn it, I fought tooth and claw with every power at my command, Callista, and yet every night the curse overtook me just the same, twisting me against my will from man to wolf. And every dawn, blue and silver flames torched my flesh, and I shifted back. Dusk and dawn relentless, unstoppable.”
“But the draught . . . it’s a cure . . .”
“It’s a temporary stay of execution, that’s all. I take it because to stop is to die more quickly and more painfully. All my raging and all my struggle did nothing but tighten the noose about my neck.”
She was either courageous or foolish, but she didn’t shrink from his anger. Instead, her gaze burned brightly and she lifted a hand to his face, her touch cool on his fevered flesh. “Mac and Gray . . . your friends . . . have they given up hope? Or could this be the answer? This book you’re carrying?”
“Mac and Gray are revolutionaries and dreamers. I’m a pragmatist. I play the odds and face the facts. I don’t hope.” He gripped her fingers, pulling them away from his face. When had this damn wagon grown so small? He could barely breathe. His skin prickled and danced in the presence of her magic. He felt battered and bruised, with nowhere to run and no way to avoid her barrage of unanswerable questions.
“What a horrible way to live,” she said simply.
He offered her a gallows smile and a lift of his shoulder. “Yes, but definitely a far easier way to die.”
Just before nightfall they’d drawn up on the windy brow of a long sloping hill north of town. By tomorrow, the place would be a crush of humanity as rowdy crowds moved through the maze of stalls and booths to gawk at the minstrel shows and wild-beast menageries, the fortune-tellers, chapmen, quacks, and cookshops. Already the place teemed with activity as farmers and herdsmen mingled with peddlers and prostitutes, and Oakham’s faded and careworn caravans were forced to set up shop in an out-of-the-way corner behind the farthest sheep pens.
There had been a few hours of frantic activity as mules were hobbled and set to graze, water was fetched, and supper set to simmer over a hasty cookfire, but with the hour growing late, the troupe had settled into a state of resigned readiness for tomorrow’s performances.
Callista sat with Lettice, the two discussing the latest fashions from London, the best way to scrub stains from muslin, and whether a husband’s snoring could be grounds for murder.
“It’s the most horrendous noise imaginable. I wake afraid I’m about to be devoured by wild animals,” Lettice complained as she pulled another shirt from her pile of mending.
“You’re the magician. Can’t you just cast a spell on him?” Sally had joined them, her tone insolent, her manner sinuously attractive.
“I’m the magician’s
“Seems to me wives do nothing but complain,” Sally said, dripping contempt. “If they were smart, they’d not wed in the first place. It’s the first step to utter boredom.”
“And what do you suggest? As if I didn’t know.”
Sally’s sloe-black eyes snapped. “Criticize me all you like, but I make them pay for the privilege. A man appreciates what he has to lay out good coin to have.”
By now Lettice looked ready to shove her needle into Sally rather than the shirt. “And when that beauty of yours turns to dross? You won’t be young forever.”
“I won’t be spreading my legs for drunken fair-going culls forever, either. I’ve got plans. I’m going to find me a wealthy man, one who’ll set me up in a house and buy me a fine carriage and fancy clothes. He’ll give me whatever I want for the pleasure of my cunt. And when he’s ready to move on, I’ll make sure he pays for that pleasure too. When I’m tired of doing for myself, I’ll start up my own house, have girls who work for me. I’ll be a grand lady then.”
“You’re mad. It’ll never happen.”
Sally squared her shoulders as if preparing to challenge Lettice to pistols at dawn. “You don’t think so? I’ll wager you’re wrong and I’ll back it up with a night’s till.”
Shirt finished, Lettice pulled out a pair of breeches with a hole in the seat. “That’s nonsense. Am I supposed to wait twenty years to see if you find yourself some fancy protector who’ll lavish gifts on you?”
“You don’t have to wait. Cally can tell us. She’s the fortune-teller.” Sally swung an arch gaze toward Callista. “So, little runaway, will I find a wealthy handsome man and be treated like a queen forever after?”
Sally shot a hungry look toward David, who lurked just beyond the firelight, tinkering with the wagons, checking the mules, always moving, always apart. Callista had not been alone with him since their conversation in the wagon. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was avoiding her.
“It’s the spirits that see the future, not I,” she answered.
Sally sank down on the ground beside them. She even sat gracefully, her long legs folding, her blond hair gleaming in the firelight. “Spirits? You mean like spooks?”
“They show me things if I ask them, but it’s not always the future. It can be the past or the present. And sometimes they only show me glimpses of their life; a snippet of memory they’ve clung to even in the afterlife.”
“Yes, yes.” Sally rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask for a lecture. Can you or can you not tell me my fortune?”
“I don’t—”
“Go on, Cally,” Lettice urged. “Show her. I could use a new gown with all that money she’s bringing in.”
Cornered, Callista had no choice. “All right. I suppose I can. Come into the wagon.”
Sally made a brisk motion with her hand. “No, we can do it here. I want everyone to hear my glamorous future.”
From the corner of her eye, Callista caught David giving her a searching look, but before she could give in to the urge to go to him, he had already turned away. “Very well. I’ll just be a moment.”
Retrieving her box from the wagon, she tried not to hear Sally’s excited comments as she roused the others to the game. There was a grumbling murmur from Sam, a few interested side wagers between Edmund and Big Knox, and by the time she returned, the group had gathered and a crate had been upended for her use.
