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  Silence passed between them before John sat up and took her hands in his. “If living for this long has taught me anything, it is to assess yourself more carefully before making a decision. Wait until we find your family and see if you feel the same way once you see them again.”

  Annalette took a deep breath and then nodded, knowing full well that it would only waste more time. She knew her mind and what she wanted now.

  Chapter 9

  John perched himself on a high limb of an oak as he watched Annalette make her way back to the place where she and Gallius had spent the night. His eyes followed the way her hips swung with each step, and he dug his claws into the bark of the tree to bring himself back to the task at hand.

  Yes, John was upset that Annalette had lied to him and used him so dishonestly. It had been a trick since before they even met, but her tears were genuine and heartfelt. The plan had changed since they started out together just outside Wye along the River Stour. Her regret was palatable, almost as much as her fear of rejection by his hand. John could not be mad as she came to this stunning revelation that she had fallen in love with him through the course of their short journey.

  What hurt more than her deceit was the realization that he could not keep her. This had all been so she could return to her people, to her home. John could not, in good conscience, bar her from that right. Just as he had told Annalette, she was blinded by the feminine impulses to run after love with abandon. Once she realized that she would miss her family too much, she would change her mind and leave him, and his loup-garou heart broken.

  She was a wild creature who had caged herself for all the wrong reasons. Now that she had a taste of freedom, she wanted more. Regret was something he knew well, and because John cared for her, he would not let her make the fatal mistake. The life of a vagabond suited him, but he could not drag her down with him.

  John had never experienced love, nor knew it intimately as some did. He did not have the love of a family to support him as a youth. His mother, as kind as she was, hesitated when it came to loving her own son. She told John that he reminded her of why she no longer had her father, why she was reduced to a servant and could never be free. She did not once express the warmth and caring that mothers usually showed to their children.

  To have Annalette confess that she loved him was a startling thing. John could not return the sentiment because he didn’t know how. He wasn’t even sure if he loved her in kind. He cared for her more than any other human alive, and he couldn’t deny the bond that had formed during their lovemaking.

  The Romani woman in the clearing below had subverted his spirit, and with every breath, he knew that it would be painful to leave her, more painful than any bodily transformation he would ever undergo.

  Below, Annalette stood and turned in a circle, her dark eyes sweeping the trees and bushes. “Gallius!” she called out, cupping her hands around her mouth so that the sound carried farther into the woods.

  There was no response. John sniffed the air for the Romani, but his scent was faint, as if he hadn’t been in the clearing for hours. He leapt from his hiding place and dropped down to join Annalette.

  She gasped and turned with her hand to her chest. Seeing it to be her lover, she relaxed and let out a long breath. “I didn’t know you were so close,” she said.

  John glanced over his shoulder to the branch from where he had jumped, which was nearly fifty feet from the ground. “Where’s Gallius?” he asked, surveying the clearing with her.

  She shrugged and held out her arms with a flair of exasperation. “I don’t know. When I left, he was asleep… or, I thought he was asleep.”

  John sniffed again and caught onto Gallius’ scent. He followed it from the direction they came the night before, to the place he had laid for the night, and then to the south. He had left behind a scattering of tells that led him to believe that he ran through the thicket. Judging by the fading traces, he was long gone.

  He heaved a sigh and turned to Annalette. Her distraught expression told him enough.

  “Maybe he tried to look for me when he woke up, and I wasn’t here?” she offered. “Or maybe he went to fetch firewood to make breakfast?”

  “Without cooking gear?” John asked with a hint of disbelief.

  Annalette crossed her arms over her chest, but would not confess what she was truly thinking. And John would not say it either.

  He wrapped her in a hug and whispered in her ear, “We will find him.”

  He would, even if he had to trek across the whole of England to find the man.

  The Romani camp was somber. There was not the usual music, laughter, and singing that she was accustomed to in the evenings. It was clear that her paternal uncle was extremely close to death’s door or had passed over the threshold into the world of the dead. She could just barely make out the faces of the men and women who talked softly amongst themselves around the campfire. Some drank ale from their mugs, others pushed around the food upon their tin plates as deep frowns crinkled their foreheads. The mourning phase was long and structured for the Romani, and close kin would continue to mourn for years after the funeral was over.

  The urge to run into the camp and proclaim her return was indisputable, but John held her in place, his hand gripping the back of her vest to keep her from plunging forward too soon. They had traveled all day, tracking Gallius’ scent until they came to the southern edge of the Kent Downs in the heart of the lower region of the county. They knew Gallius was amongst them, but they did not know how he had been received or what he had told them already.

  “I have to go to them,” she whispered to John.

  He nodded. “I will be close by. I won’t leave until you tell me to.”

  She turned to meet his gaze, so soft and yet also hopeful. “I would never want you to leave, John.”

  Standing beside John in the shadows of the forest, she couldn’t believe she had come to this place, forsaking her roots for the love of a man that they would never truly accept. If Gallius had any mercy at all, he would stay silent and let her family believe that John could be a viable husband for her. That was the only way they would let a gajo into their family. If they knew he was loup-garou, there was no chance. She had to know either way.

  A smile spread over his lips, as he reached out to tenderly touch her cheek and slip a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I will wait until I hear word.”

  She knew that he was still hesitant to accept her decision. Coming back to her camp had reminded her of the love and loyalty she felt for her family, but she hadn’t changed her mind yet. The dream of seeing the world with John at his side was still irresistible, but if she could have both John and her family, then she might have preferred that.

  She took his hand and kissed his palm before she turned to the Romani camp. She trod softly forward, both unwilling to startle them and understanding the reality of the grief they must have been experiencing.

  Her mother was the first to see her. The older woman, dressed in a bright blue skirt and flowing blouse, was feeding the scraps from dinner to the dog that followed their camp across England. Her face was wrinkled from age and the weary work that motherhood demanded, but Annalette could see the deep lines around her mouth from the millions of sweet smiles she had given freely over the years.

  The Romani’s sparkling brown eyes went wide when they laid upon Annalette. Instead of rushing forward to embrace her daughter, Annalette’s mother turned and hurried to her father who sat on the other side of the campfire. He was in mid-sentence with another man that she didn’t recognize when her mother grabbed at his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

  Annalette froze as she watched them exchange some frenzied words and her heart began to pound in her throat. This was not the welcome she had anticipated. Her father looked in Annalette’s direction before hurrying away towards a group of older men who congregated by a nearby wagon. She recognized some of them as the vitsa elders, but they were joined by more men, probably from her un
cle’s own vitsa with whom he had traveled.

  When her mother finally approached her, eyes downcast. It was the same look she had given Annalette whenever she had done something improper or marime. The old woman who had shaped her into the person she was today was ashamed of her.

  “You should not have come, Annalette,” she spoke in her husky Romani tone.

  Annalette surged forward to take her mother’s hands, but she backed away and made a displeased gesture as if her daughter were some wild, contaminated beast.

  “Mama,” she whispered, “why not? Don’t you want me here?”

  It was then that she saw a tear glisten at the corner of her mother’s eye. “Dearest, I do. But… your brother said things that we can’t ignore.”

  She froze in place, her hands trembling at her sides. Was there any way to salvage this? “Mama, whatever Gallius told you about the man who helped us escape, I assure you it’s false.”

  Her mother lifted her glare and shook her head. “He didn’t speak only of the loup-garou. He spoke of you.”

  John leaned against the oak and listened to the trial. From his place in the shadows, he could hear their voices clear enough, but he couldn’t understand their words. They all spoke in the Romani tongue, but he did hear a few words that Annalette had taught him. Loup-garou. Gajo. Marime. Mulo.

  The elder men spoke with a haughty coldness of the most heartless judge while Annalette pleaded animatedly for her case. She spoke his name many times, and each time the men sneered with contempt. It was clear that they were not willing to listen to her side of the story.

  Her brother stood nearby with a group of other younger Romani men, shouting phrases in an accusatory way. The women and children kept their distance and had retired to their wagons or played outside the camp, away from the drama that unfolded around the campfire.

  If he had no respect for her people or her customs, he would have barged in and defended her. No one else was going to. Though he wasn’t sure what exactly she was being tried for. He crossed his arms as a cold wind passed through the woods.

  A man, dignified with his white shock of hair, stood above the assembly and all fell into a hush. He made one statement and then turned his back to Annalette. One by one, they all mimicked him. She fell to her knees and began to weep. Such a terrible sound that he couldn’t bear to hear.

  He fidgeted in place as he watched the scene and realized that she was the one under fire, not him.

  There was a man, tall and dark haired, that bore a resemblance to Annalette. He was the last to turn away, but John could see the heartbroken look on his face. None would come to her side to comfort her, though many of the women who stood on the edges of camp, seemed to pity her plight.

  John swallowed hard as he had to watch her stand on her own and walk away from her family and the people she thought she could rely on.

  One woman did show her mercy. The one who came to her when Annalette first entered the camp, hurried forward with a sack brimming with fabric that John assumed was clothing. There were some emotional words exchanged, and the old woman embraced Annalette. One of the men shouted at her, and they parted.

  Her face streaming with tears, Annalette ran from the camp and into the forest on the other side.

  John ran to catch up with her but refrained from touching her until he knew that she wouldn’t push him away. No doubt this was because of him. If she rejected him in the same way that her family just rejected her, John wouldn’t know what to do. The entire time he waited for her to return, he wanted to hope that she would still want to run away with him, despite his previous insistence that she wait. He had hoped they could have some sort of future together, but was this what she had in mind?

  “He told them everything,” she whispered. “He told them all about you and me… and what we did.” She fell to her knees once more, and a hand stifled her wails. “I am no longer Romani. I am marime.”

  At first, he was shocked. How could Gallius have known what they had done? Was he watching from a distance? Did he hear Annalette’s moans? Or did he simply make a good guess? Once the shock wore off, John began to shake with rage. Every muscle in his body tensed and he was more than ready to kill every last ignorant, staunch Romani in the camp until they repealed their judgment.

  “I’m sorry, Annalette.”

  John took a step back, but she looked to him with imploring eyes and reached out. He was the reason for her misfortune, and yet she still wanted him. It was the unconditional love that he had been denied as a child. This woman, beautiful and brave, covered the scars on his heart and in one simple gesture, healed a lifetime of bitterness.

  He did not hesitate to enfold her in his arms. Annalette could have resented him for being the reason her family turned her back upon her. If he were any normal man, perhaps they would have forgiven her for having relationships outside of the union of marriage. Since he was half animal, her sin of bestiality would not be overlooked so easily.

  She looked up into his face, and though sadness marred her beautiful features, John never thought her more perfect. “I’m yours, John,” she said. “I have no family to return to. Where shall we go?”

  He took in a deep breath and let it flow out through his flared nostrils. “Wherever you want.” She had sacrificed everything for him. It was only fair that he gave her everything she wanted. “We’ll go to Scotland, or France. Germany, Italy, the far east. You name the place, and we’ll go.”

  Annalette let her hands rise to his chest and tried to smile. “We should find you an alpha.”

  He bent his head low to touch his forehead with hers. In the midst of everything, she still thought of him first. He didn’t deserve her. “But, is that what you want to do?”

  She laughed. “If you’re with me, John Croxen, I’ll go anywhere.”

  His lips spread into a warm smile and he kissed her in the dark one more time before he led her away from the life she once knew. Unlike the first time she walked away from her family, this time she wasn’t alone.

  John kept a vigil watch outside the baker’s shop. Annalette was asleep by his side, her body concealed by a long cloak they had commandeered from a sleeping traveler on the Pilgrims’ Way just before they arrived in Chilham.

  She no longer wore the bandana of the Romani to hold her wild and thick ebony hair from falling in her face, and they would need to procure some more suitable clothes for her to wear. With some skill and finesse, they could make her appear as a mere foreigner rather than an illegal gypsy.

  The village was awakening from its slumber, and he could hear the voices of families in their homes as they washed and prepared for the day ahead. Merchants all around were opening the shops for business, and if his loup-garou senses were correct, the baker was coming downstairs to open his shop any second now.

  John pushed himself up and waited for the front door to open. The baker, whom he knew to be loup-garou as well, stood at the threshold and grinned to them both.

  “I was wondering when you would show up again,” he said before stepping aside to let them through.

  John smiled to the kind stranger and gently shook Annalette to wake her. They had traveled through the night to come back to Chilham, sometimes down unmarked trails that tore at the hem of her skirt, but she never once complained.

  He had been gentle with her and several times John suggested that they stop to rest, but she would have none of it. She wanted to arrive at Chilham before dawn so they could come into town under the cover of night. Losing her family and her Romani status did not diminish her spirit in the least.

  Once inside the bakery, the owner locked the door behind him, and Annalette tossed off the hood that had masked her features from any curious strangers passing them by on the streets.

  “I hope bringing her here won’t put you in danger,” John said as the baker set to preparing his ovens and worktable for the day ahead. Bowls of rising dough were scattered over the floor and every available surface.

  “As long
as her scent is gone by the time the mysgather comes around, I should be fine. You left so suddenly the other day. I hope I didn’t startle you.”

  John ran his fingers through his hair. In all honesty, the baker did frighten him with his talk about bites and age. Now, he wanted to know more, and he was ready to hear it.

  “I apologize,” John said as she guided Annalette into a nearby chair that wasn’t occupied by dough. “I do need your assistance.”

  The baker straightened from picking up a couple of bowls off the floor by the window and turned to John. “What would that be?”

  John gathered up his pride and tossed it aside for the moment. “Who is your alpha? Do you have one in Chilham?”

  It took a moment for the baker to comprehend his question and then he shook his head. “No, not in Chilham,” he said. “I was born a loup-garou, so my father was my mentor. Are you in search of an alpha to train or to join his pack?”

  To hear that they had come all that way for nothing would have disheartened any man, but John would not give up so easily. “I need a mentor,” he said. Then, in an act of faith, John told the baker about his life thus far. He told him everything from being a bastard son of a nameless father to a man who thought he was possessed by a demon and not a loup-garou at all.

  The baker nodded in understanding as he listened and collected his dough bowls. “It would seem you are in a dilemma, my friend.”

  “Do you know of an alpha nearby?” Annalette asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  The baker pondered for a moment. “It’s hard to say. Our kind have learned to hide so well over the centuries. The general populace considers us to be witches or demon-possessed. Sometimes, we hide in plain sight, as I have learned to do and how the local mysgather does. Others have taken to the woods and live as hermits. I know of an alpha in the highlands to the north, but he does not allow just anyone into his pack. Englishmen aren’t welcome in his territory.”