Traveller (12 page)

“Did the Moktar get his hypothalamus?” Monroe’s voice sounded hollow and sad. I wondered how many deaths the council had investigated and imagined it happened quite often.

Quinn shook his head. “We called Michael as soon as we found the body and stayed with it until he came.”

Monroe looked over at Michael. “Please tell us what you saw.”

He walked to the microphone. “He died from blunt force trauma to the head. We protected his body when the Moktar attacked again.”

One of the other council members, an older man with glasses and a kind face leaned forward. “Which one of you made the kill?”

Michael’s face remained expressionless. “I did, Councilman Jones.”

That earned a small round of applause from everyone. “And that is why you are the Ceannfort,” said Councilman Jones with a smile.

Apparently, Sean noticed my confusion. “The Ceannfort is our best fighter,” he whispered, his eyes glowing with admiration and pride.

“What happened next?” Monroe asked.

“Emerson was about half a block away. Another Moktar grabbed her and held her.”

Anselina looked at me. “I think we’d like to hear this part from Emerson.”

My cheeks got hot, and my heart slammed against my ribcage. I thought about what Leah had told me, and felt terrified because there was a great deal at stake here. Michael might not be allowed to go back to school if I messed up.

“Tell us your name, child.” Anselina must have seen the fear on my face. Her voice was kind.

I took a deep breath and tried to pretend this was just another pageant. I squared my shoulders, held my head high, and made eye contact with the people in the audience, even the nasty girls. “Emerson Jane Shaw, ma’am.”

This earned a few titters. They probably weren’t used to hearing “ma’am” and “sir,” but I’d been raised right, and would never think of addressing an older lady or gentleman any other way.

“And how did you end up where the boy was killed?” Anselina asked.

I kept my gaze squarely set ahead, refusing to look at Michael. I couldn’t lie, but telling the truth wasn’t easy. “I followed Michael there.”

“Why?” Anselina wasn’t going to let me off the hook easily.

“I’m not sure, ma’am. He did his very best to avoid me, but when I saw him that night, I followed him. It wasn’t his fault.”

This earned a few laughs from Nella and her posse. I swallowed hard, not knowing if I’d hurt Michael’s case or helped it, but telling the truth was my only option. “They killed the first Moktar, just as they said. The second one grabbed me from behind.”

“Did it try to kill you?” asked Monroe.

I shook my head. “It just sniffed me and licked my neck.” I shuddered. “Michael and the other boys were too far away to help, so I did my best to fight it off.”

This earned a huge reaction from the crowd. Everyone started talking at once. Monroe had to pound his gavel on the table several times to regain order. Nella and her friends stared at me with open-mouthed disbelief.

“She’s lying,” Mavin screeched.

Sean took the microphone. “She speaks the truth. She’s a wee little thing, but she fought like a champion.”

I beamed. “Thank you.”

Sampson finally spoke. “Where did you learn to fight like that, lass?”

“I’ve taken martial arts classes since I was small, sir.”

Monroe watched me, scratching his chin. “You don’t know the rules here, Miss Shaw, but there’s something important you need to understand. It’s fine to defend yourself against the Moktar. That’s your right. But only the men do the fighting. Any woman who hunts will be shunned for life.”

“I’m not a Traveller.”

“We do what we must to keep as many people as possible safe. If you stay here, the same rules apply to you, too. Are you in agreement?”

I nodded. I had no desire to seek out those monsters anyway.

Mavin destroyed my little moment of happiness. “Now a Dweller knows about the Moktar, and, more importantly about us. None of this would have ever happened if you hadn’t let your son go to university, Sampson Nightingale. Your arrogance has put us in danger.” She shot Sampson a nasty look.

“Stop your yammering, Mavin. No one is in danger, except this lass right here. And that’s what bothers me,” he said. “This isn’t normal Moktar behavior.”

“It bothers me as well, Sampson.” Anselina gave me a steady look. “The Moktar is tracking you, Emerson. He wants to hunt you down and kill you. The question is…why?”

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

“Moktar don’t usually hunt Dwellers. They simply kill them on the spot, but he let you live. It doesn’t make sense.” Anselina shook her head.

Michael stepped forward, his shoulders tight with tension. “There is something else. I’ve seen this Moktar before. He’s a tricky one. Always hanging back, and letting others do his dirty work.”

“Do you think he’s the Alpha?” asked Monroe.

Michael paused for only a second. “Aye.”

I felt the fear coming off the crowd in waves. “Is the Alpha the leader of the Moktar?” I whispered to Quinn.

He nodded. “The biggest and the baddest.”

Mavin looked terrified. “She’ll lead him right here. He’ll kill us all.”

Her words made the already frightened crowd slip one step further into panic mode. Monroe did his best to calm them down. “Mavin, you know quite well there is no danger inside these walls. Only a Traveller can open our doors.”

Anselina agreed. “We are safer here than anywhere else in England.”

Michael squared his shoulders. “I vow to kill the Alpha. Once he’s dead, the danger will be gone.”

This caused the unrest in the crowd to shift into excitement, almost a palpable thing. Monroe looked at the other council members. “We’ll vote on it now.”

The council stood up and moved to the back of the stage. They argued quietly amongst themselves for a few minutes. Mavin looked really angry, so I hoped that meant things were going well for us. When Monroe spoke, he was short and right to the point.

“She’s in great danger, and so we’ll allow her to stay with us…” Mavin began to protest, but Monroe raised a hand to quiet her. “For exactly two weeks, and then she must leave whether the Alpha is dead or alive. That is our final ruling.”

Michael protested. “Two weeks? That won’t be enough time.”

Monroe ignored him. He looked at the crowd, lifted his hand, and slammed his gavel one last time.

“Meeting adjourned.”

Chapter Thirteen

This idea is like letting a monkey with a blowtorch into a room full of dynamite.

~Grandma Sugar

After the council meeting, Michael and I met Ryan and Leah under a shady tree. I still reeled from what had just happened.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m sweating like a whore in church on Sunday.” I fanned myself with my hand, and Leah and Ryan burst out laughing.

“Does she always talk like that?” Ryan asked Michael.

“It gets worse when she’s nervous. Or angry.”

I had to agree with him. “Or drunk. I get very southern when drinking.”

“Well, I think it’s charming.” Leah took my arm as Sampson approached. His black councilman’s robe hung over his arm, and he looked very serious. “Let’s go and get something cold to drink. The boys will want to talk with their father.”

We went to Leah’s caravan. She poured two glasses of lemonade, and we sat outside on wooden rocking chairs. Leah and Ryan had a modern-looking caravan like Michael, but the rocking chairs and the lemonade made it seem like I was back in Bowling Green.

I leaned back with a contented sigh. “This feels like home.”

“Tell me about Kentucky.”

“It’s different from York. My daddy’s a professor, and we live in town, close to the university. Bowling Green is the biggest city for miles, so we have lots of restaurants and things to do. Nashville is only an hour away, and that’s fun.”

“Nashville? I’d love to go there. I adore country music.”

I looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

“I even have my own cowboy hat,” Leah said with a giggle.

“You’ll have to come and visit sometime.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back. Leah wasn’t leaving the compound, let alone England. It was almost cruel of me to bring it up.

Leah seemed to sense my thoughts. “It’s not that bad, really. I’m happy with Ryan and the life we’ve built here.” She put a hand protectively over her belly. “And we haven’t told many people yet, but we’re expecting our first child.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news. Congratulations.”

Leah nodded, but there was a shadow in her eyes. “We’re excited, but it can be hard for Traveller women. Margaret lost three babies. They all died before they were born.”

“I’m sorry for her.”

I meant what I said. Margaret may have been mean to me, and tried to get the council to kick me out, but I wouldn’t wish that sort of thing on anyone.

“Just be glad you aren’t a Traveller,” said Leah, and then she gave me a wry grin. “And not just for the baby thing, although that’s reason enough.”

“What do you mean?”

Leah took a long swallow of her lemonade. “You’d be trapped here like all the other women. Michael would never let you leave.”

I felt a chill go over me in spite of the warmth of the day. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not then.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Leah, and we tapped our glasses together.

Ryan and Michael brought us lunch. After we ate, we walked to Tad’s caravan for the funeral. Everyone in the compound waited to pay their respects. We stood for a long time in line before we reached the coffin, which was closed. I was happy about that. I had no desire to the see the face of a dead sixteen year old.

Michael seemed to understand my thoughts. “It’s closed because we had to remove his hypothalamus before we buried him, otherwise the Moktar would dig him up.”

He whispered the words into my ear and caught me when I stumbled. The idea of having to protect a dead body like that was a reality these people lived with on a daily basis.

Tad’s caravan was wooden and not very big. White sheets draped over the entire structure and also on all the furniture in the yard, reminding me of the sad-looking dust covers used to protect things in long deserted or abandoned homes. The coffin was white and shiny, with silver handles. Fresh flowers surrounded both the coffin and caravan, some shaped into large, ornate arrangements and others just single stems placed reverently on the ground. The air smelled strongly of lilies, roses, and carnations. For a moment, I had a flashback to my mother’s funeral, a memory so intense and painful tears stung the backs of my eyes. Tad’s mother stood alone next to the coffin, wearing a wine-colored evening gown.

“His father passed away a few years ago. He was her only child,” Michael murmured in my ear. “And don’t say his name. It’s very bad luck.”

I nodded, glad he’d told me. When we reached the coffin, Michael placed his hand on it, a muscle working in his cheek as he struggled to compose himself. He embraced Tad’s mother, and held her as silent sobs wracked her body. When he let go, he turned to me.

“Emerson, this is Mary.”

I reached out to shake her hand. She was so small the top of her head barely reached my shoulder.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She pulled out a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “Thank you. He was a good boy. You didn’t know him, of course. It’s kind of you to come.”

I followed Michael off to a quiet spot on the other side of the caravan. He was pale and looked so shaken I instinctively wrapped my arms around him. He held me tightly, his lips on my hair.

“This should not have happened.”

His voice was raw and rough. I patted his back and made soothing noises, but nothing I could do or say would make this better.

Tad’s funeral began after the long line of mourners had said their condolences. I didn’t know how Tad’s mother got through it. She had a kind word for everyone, and sometimes it seemed like she was the comforter, more than the person being comforted.

Eventually, everyone had paid their respects, and the crowd formed into a solemn circle around Mary and the coffin. Glasses of whiskey were poured, including one for Tad. I learned very quickly gypsy funerals were composed of three things, weeping, wailing, and lots and lots of whiskey.

Sampson stood to make the first toast. “Do not cry or thy tears will sear the heart of the one we lost. Let him rest in peace. Do not use his name, or eat his favorite food. Do not use his things. Everything he owned must be destroyed. There should be nothing left now to bind his soul to Earth. He is free now, to fly to Rom, and live in fields of green in never-ending sunshine.”

Everyone took a deep drink. The whiskey burned its way down my throat, and left a mellow warmth in my middle. I had to agree with this aspect of a gypsy funeral. The whiskey definitely helped make things just a little more bearable.

Michael, Patrick, and Ryan joined a group of Tad’s friends. I waited with Leah. Margaret stood alone, not far from us. A small fire had been built near Tad’s caravan, and we watched in silence as the men carried all of Tad’s belongings and tossed them into the fire, one by one.

“Will they cremate him?” I really did not want to see his body added to the funeral pyre and was relieved when Leah shook her head.

“Never. Gypsies are always buried. Dust to dust and all that.”

After all of Tad’s belongings had been burnt, the women lit tall white candles that lined the way from Tad’s coffin to a horse drawn hearse waiting near two large metal doors. Everyone was completely silent until the last candle was lit and the procession began.

“It’s good he was outside when he died,” murmured Leah, as we joined the line of mourners behind Tad’s coffin. “A gypsy shouldn’t die cooped up. It’s just wrong.”

Tad’s friends, including Michael and his brothers, carried the coffin slowly down the path. When they got to the end, they lifted it onto the hearse. The horses were black, with braided manes. The coffin was huge and looked heavy.

“Why is the coffin so big?” It was almost twice as wide as any coffin I’d ever seen.

“He’ll be buried with things he might need in his next life, like money and food.” Leah’s lower lip trembled. “Anything to make the journey a little easier for him.”