Authors: Shaun Jeffrey
“I really didn't want to do this,” Melantha said.
“Then don't.”
“You've left me no choice.”
“There's always a choice.”
“
Mashkar le gadjende leski shib si le Romeski zor
,” the old man with the sword shouted, making Melantha frown.
Zen felt her impetus begin to ebb, a receding storm. Her knees – which had been digging into his ribs – moved apart and Zen sucked in a grateful breath as she took some of her weight from his stomach.
“Surrounded by the
gadje
, the Rom's only defence is his tongue,” Melantha whispered. She looked at the old man and frowned. Moments later, her expression softened. “The years have been cruel to you, Leo.”
Leo parried with his sword, just avoiding the dogs vicious teeth. “
Droboy tume Romale
,” he said, wheezing. “You've been gone a long time, Melantha.”
Melantha stood up, leaving Zen lying on the ground. She walked towards the old man. “
Nais tuke
.” She nodded her head and called the dog. It looked across at her and then skulked away and lay by the wall, panting, its tongue lolling from its maw.
The old man sheathed his sword, breathing fast, his face partly shielded by a battered trilby.
Zen composed himself and sat up, but he couldn't relax. Fear radiated out of him as though oozing from his pores. The hippy woman looked on, all doe eyed.
Melantha spoke to the old man in a language Zen couldn't understand. He knew he should try to make a run for it, but he couldn't leave the woman to die.
Melantha nodded and said something in a tone that suggested anger.
The old man replied in a sonorous voice, and Zen realised he was trying to soothe Melantha, placate her with whatever words of wisdom he could conjure.
He hoped for their sakes it worked.
The old man gesticulated with his hands, pointing at the hippy woman.
“No, Verity must
die
,” Melantha spat. “Everyone will pay for their sins against my people.”
“And what about me?” Zen asked, getting to his feet.
Melantha regarded him with cold eyes. “I thought you understood, but I can see you're just a weak
gadje
. Raised among the enemy, you’re too much like them. I'll let you live, and you can take the money ... but remember this: if I ever see you again, I will kill you.”
“You can't do this,” Leo said.
Melantha shook her head. “How can you say that? Have you forgotten your allegiances so soon?”
Leo sucked his gums. “I saw the error of my ways. There's none as blind as those fuelled by hate.”
“And there's none so strong, either.” Melantha grinned and Leo bowed his head slightly. “You’ve lived among the
gadje
too long.”
“This isn't the way.”
“You
know
what they did to my mother; what they did to
me
.” Her voice rumbled like thunder.
“You can't change the past.”
“No, but I can affect the future, and if you oppose me ...”
“I can't let you do it.”
Melantha shook her head. “
You
cannot stop me.” She motioned towards the dog and it raised itself up, continued raising itself until it stood on its hind legs which mutated, fleshing out, becoming more human than canine. Its torso also changed, the chest becoming a thick barrel, the hair shrinking. The canine face distorted, ligaments and bone stretching, becoming something hideous, the thin flesh mottled with purple veins.
Zen watched with his mouth open and he heard his father's voice in his head.
Beware the wolf in sheep's clothing
. But this wasn't a wolf, it was a monster in wolf's clothing.
Sharp yellow talons broke through, superseding the previous claws, and the creature opened its mouth and snarled, revealing a bloated, forked tongue.
Zen felt sick with fear. He’d never seen anything like it.
His heart beat fast.
As Melantha continued speaking to Leo, Zen grabbed Verity by the hand. She wasn't very helpful, and her eyes looked glazed, as though bewitched. He grabbed the money, looked over his shoulder to check that Melantha wasn't looking, and then he pulled Verity away as quickly as he could.
He eyed the bag of money in his hand and a grin cracked his lips; then melted like ice as he remembered the wager. The Shadowland inhabitants found him wherever he went, and Melantha wasn't likely to help him now. What good was money if he was dead?
Ducking around the corner, Zen heard Melantha's anguished scream echo along the alley, and he shivered as he heard his name borne on the wind.
CHAPTER 16
Verity didn't understand what was going on. She felt light-headed, her senses shot to pieces.
“Who are you?” she asked the stranger that dragged her along the road.
“My name's Zen, and before you say anything, no I'm not a Buddhist monk.”
Everything felt very bizarre, leaving her even more confused. “Back there. Melantha … she wanted to kill me, and I couldn’t do anything to stop her.”
Zen exhaled a loud sigh and then opened his mouth, but before he could speak, someone interrupted.
“This way. Hurry up.”
Verity turned and saw Leo waving his walking stick.
Although slightly pale, he didn't seem to be injured.
“Where's Melantha?” she asked.
Leo rubbed his brow and shook his head. “She's … gone.”
Verity sat on the edge of the couch in Leo’s house. The woman she’d pursued halfway across the country had tried to kill her, and she hadn’t wanted to do a damn thing about it. Her lack of emotion scared her. What the hell was wrong with her?
Zen stood by the window, fidgeting. A cigarette drooped from the side of his mouth. If recent events weren't so serious, she would have found it funny he was wearing a dress. Now it seemed ironic.
“Well, I need a cup of tea,” Leo said. He shook his head and bustled into the kitchen.
“So what's going on?” Verity asked after Leo left.
Zen turned towards her and exhaled a furious cloud of smoke. He shrugged and chewed nervously on his lip. “I was hoping you could tell me.” He looked down at the carrier bag at his feet and laughed. “I sold myself for a piece of silver.”
Leo returned carrying a tray laden with cups, saucers and a teapot. “So you're the one,” he said, staring at Zen.
“The one?” Zen frowned.
“The bastard son that started all this.”
“Whoa, hold on old fella. I haven't done anything.”
“Not intentionally. But we heard the rumours.”
“Rumours?” Zen stubbed his cigarette out and lit another.
Leo looked out of the window. “Your mother was raped. The story goes that she killed the father, but then her own mother, Adara, was killed in retaliation. After her mother died, Melantha disappeared. She went looking for a way to satisfy her anger. And for that, she went to the Shadowland, the dark place.”
Zen exhaled a cloud of smoke. “So she’s really my mother, and that place, it's real?”
“Yes, she’s your mother all right. When I look at you, I can see her looking back. And that place, it’s as real as it gets. Melantha had been gone for so long we thought she was dead. Then folk started saying as how she'd come back with a dark power that bewitched people who weren't kin. Seems she found some creature that knew how to bind the flesh, giving her the power of attraction.” He poured three cups of tea and passed them around.
Verity accepted the steaming brew and sipped from the cup. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wasn’t bewitched.
“Even though I'm blood, I don't see the real Melantha,” Leo continued. “My relationship's too weak. I see an attractive woman, but folk like you, Verity, well you’re powerless to resist.”
Verity looked at Leo. “I wasn’t bewitched,” she said, indignant.
“Then what would you call it?” Leo asked.
“I wouldn’t call it anything.”
“She just tried to kill you, and you would have just stood there and let her.” He snorted loudly.
Verity looked out of the window at the dark clouds, her thoughts a jumble of emotions.
“So how come you know so goddamn much?” she asked.
Leo coughed. “I was once a member of Melantha’s tribe, that’s how. But I realised what we were doing was wrong a long time ago.”
Verity ground her teeth. She didn't know what to believe any more. “Can’t we just talk to her? Sort this out?”
“She’ll kill you rather than talk to you.”
“There must be something. If we could just find her.”
Zen stared out of the window, his expression as dark as the sky. “Well, I've got a feeling she’ll find us before we find her.”
CHAPTER 17
Melantha was disappointed with Zen. She had hoped he would help her, especially when he sympathised with her plight, but when it came down to it, he had a weak stomach for such things.
The fire sizzled and hissed as the rain tried to dampen it, but the coals were too fierce to be sated, just like the flames of her hatred.
Melantha sat beneath an awning and turned a spit; the succulent smell of hedgehog filled the air with a pork aroma. Behind her, sheltering beneath the caravan, the dog creature whined and licked its chops. She cut a titbit off the meat and tossed it across. The creature caught it in mid-flight, its sharp teeth clamping down.
Her thoughts turned to her mother, Adara.
Their life had consisted of moving from one place to another, either of their own volition, or forced to move on, always following the righteous path of revenge, from region to region; country to country, wherever the book led them.
Although not blessed with her mother's good looks, Melantha did inherit her guile. And while her mother exacted her revenge more by trickery and fraud, subverting families, Melantha took a darker, bloodier route.
She killed her first person when only fifteen.
And she remembered it well ...
Adara was in the village, while Melantha tended the fire and prepared the vegetables for dinner.
The black horse that pulled the brightly painted caravan chewed on the grass and shook its mane, swatting at the incessant flies with its tail. Although other Roma were converting to modern caravans and four wheel drive vehicles, Melantha's mother was a traditionalist, the
vurdo
a family heirloom, imbued not only with generations of family history, but also with their blood.
They’d made camp on the edge of a small village. Some of the locals threatened them, but their threats were hollow, too afraid of the myths that perpetuated the gypsy kind (couldn't they curse you, give you the evil eye, didn't they steal babies and eat them). Melantha's mother did nothing to discourage such myths. Instead, she courted favour with them, using the superstitious fears of people to her advantage. But there were always those who weren't discouraged by such things, those who came in the night and threw stones at the caravan; those same ones threw insults and cheap innuendo during the day. Nevertheless, if they hoped to offend Melantha's mother with their liberal accusations, they were very much mistaken.