Once a Gypsy Read online

  Helena pressed her back against the wall.

  The Dullahan won’t take me. He won’t take me. She repeated the mantra over and over.

  The door to the devilish carriage opened as the Dullahan chanted a spell, drawing the writhing soul into the black beyond. The head smiled, and its beady eyes sparkled with malice.

  She struggled to recall the stories of her youth. The Dullahan was afraid of something… but what was it?

  She scanned the kitchen for something that would stop the phantom. Next to her on the edge of the counter was a golden-plated serving spoon. Gold. The phantom hated gold.

  She grabbed the spoon and shoved it out in front of her.

  The phantom peered down at her. Its head shifted in its arm like a confused dog’s. The green head’s lips quivered and it released an ear-splitting squeal. The Dullahan stumbled backward, bumping into a counter. The face under his arm cringed and hissed as he backed up to the coach-a-bower. Lifting the head by its putrid white hair, the Dullahan stepped up into the driver’s seat. Without a backward look, it pulled away.

  The world spun around her.

  She had faced down the phantom of death. The kitchen blurred and, as if she were looking through a tunnel, all she could see was the red blood.

  She tried to force herself to breathe.

  There was blood everywhere. The floor. The ceiling. Her hands. Everything was covered with blood.

  The world went black.

  Chapter Eleven

  Graham would need to tread softly; they had entered dangerous ground. Mr. Shane had warned him that this day would come. The day of enlightenment.

  There was a strong knock on the door. “Graham?” Seamus’s voice called.

  Graham opened the door of the tool shed and walked outside. Seamus had his back turned and he stared out into the distance, making Graham fear the worst. “Hi, Seamus. How’s Helena doing?”

  “She’s restin’ in the dinin’ hall. Mary’s keeping an eye on her. She’s shaken up, but she’ll be all right.” Seamus rubbed his hands together. “I need to thank you… for getting’ Helena outta there. She don’t need to be round no guards.”

  “I understand.”

  “Did you hear the guards are thinkin’ the man offed himself?”

  “Aye.” Chills ran down Graham’s spine. Chester wasn’t the kind to do something like that.

  “It’s hard to tell what someone may or may not do… I’ve found that people are always surprisin’ me.” Seamus looked at him.

  A wave of relief washed over Graham.

  “You’ve proven to be a good choice. You’ve done a fine job.” Graham paused.

  “Is there anythin’ else you need me to be doin’ before I round her up and take her home?”

  “Actually, I need you to check the irrigation lines on the south quadrant of the golf course. When you’re done, you can head out.”

  “I’ll head right over there,” Seamus said. “Anything else?”

  There were a lot of things he needed—help, courage, and the strength to do what needed to be done. Yet Seamus couldn’t provide the inner strength Graham required. The only thing he could give him was time with Helena.

  “If you don’t mind, I might take Helena into town with me. I have a few errands to run. It would be easiest if I just dropped her off when we’re done.”

  The air between them buzzed with tension.

  “I promise Helena’ll be in good hands,” Graham said.

  “Aye. I have no doubt.” Seamus’s face tightened. “But I don’t know about ya dropping her off. I don’t know if Helena’s told ya, but her mam ain’t going to be real pleased if she sees you two together. It would look real strange for a gorger to be dropping her off.”

  “Oh.”

  “If ya didn’t drop her off right at the campsite maybe you could take her with ya. Just be careful no one sees ya.” Seamus ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. “Are ye sure ye want to be takin’ her along? I mean, she’s a real good help, but she’s had a bit of a long week with Chester’s death and all.”

  “Don’t worry, Seamus,” Graham said. “I won’t keep her long. Just a few stops.”

  • • •

  A lump rose in Graham’s throat as he opened the door to the dining hall. The time had come to tell Helena the truth. It couldn’t be avoided any longer. He could only hope she was ready.

  If things didn’t go as he planned, it would be hard to convince her to stay on at the manor. If Graham lost her, there would be no getting her back. And if she left, he’d be letting everyone down. No, more than that. His brother’s life would be at stake.

  The door drifted close behind him. Helena sat at the table, her head on her arms. Her long black eyelashes were closed in sleep. He’d never noticed the faint pink hue of her lips, nor the tiny freckles splashed across her thin nose. There was something about her that made him want to touch her, to feel her in his arms, but holding her again was an impossible dream.

  He hated himself for what he was going to have to do. This enlightenment would only bring more stress and discord to her life, but if he did everything right he could make her understand why the secrecy had been so vital.

  He moved toward her and accidently banged his toe against the table leg.

  Helena stirred. “Oh…” She lifted her head from her arms. “Graham? Where’s Mary?”

  “In the kitchen.” Graham smiled softly.

  Helena sat up and readjusted her hair. “I don’t know what happened. I was just taking a little break. I must’ve been more tired than I thought.” She looked up at him with her buttery brown eyes. “It’s been one hell of a day.”

  And it was only going to get worse.

  “I’m sorry about everything that’s gone on here the last few days,” Graham said as he sat down across from her. “But I’m glad I caught you. I was hoping we could talk a bit.”

  Helena ran her fingers under her eyes, whisking away a little smear of her black eye makeup. “What happened to… to Chester?”

  “I think you already know.”

  “It wasn’t all just a horrible dream?”

  He shook his head.

  “It seemed like Mary and Chester were real close. Did they have some kind of relationship?”

  “She’s always been good friends with him, but she’s married to Herbert.”

  Her eyes darkened.

  Graham’s hands shook as he stared at Helena’s fingers. He longed to reach out and touch her, to console her after all she had been through. “Can I ask you a question?”

  Helena nodded.

  “Why did you faint?”

  “There was…” She paused.

  “What?”

  She dropped her gaze to her hands. “There was… just so much blood.”

  “Really? With the emergency with the little boy you just jumped right in. But when a man you didn’t know well was killed, you… shut down. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Her fingers trembled, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching over, he took her fingers in his, letting her warmth soak into him like a beam of sunshine breaking through a storm. “You know you can tell me anything. You can trust me. If you saw something in there—anything—you can tell me.” He let his meaning sink in.

  Helena scowled and pulled her hand from his. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about?” She glowered. “He was dead when I got there. I’m a Traveller, but I didn’t have nothin’ to do with his death.”

  “I know you didn’t have anything to do with his death. That’s not what I meant.”

  She looked toward the door.

  “Something happened. I’m no fool.” He paused, searching her face for answers. “I know there are things that go on in the manor that can’t be explained. I want to know what you saw.”

  She flushed. “I saw exactly what you saw.”

  He extended his hand. “Come with me. I wanna show you something.”

  She slipped her hand into his, and th
ey made their way out of the kitchen.

  The manor was filled with meandering tourists. Most clicked away with their cameras as they stared slack-jawed at the cathedral seats and marble busts which filled the halls. High tea would be starting soon, and the halls would empty as the people rushed to the drawing room to feast on their fancy little sandwiches and cookies—all of them unaware of the death and mayhem that had filled the staff’s hidden lives.

  Helena ran her hand over her hair, nervously pushing down the loose ends.

  “You look great.” Graham led her past the front desk. “Don’t worry.”

  She looked down at their hands and gently pulled her fingers from his.

  He tried to focus on his task instead of the soft sound of her breath as they made their way to the deserted hallway near the south end of the manor. He came to a stop at the end of the hall.

  The only evidence of the door in front of them was a thin line that ran down the wainscoting. Adorning the wall was an oil painting of a group of men standing under threatening gray clouds as they mended a skiff’s nets. Around the picture was a subdued black frame, which made the painting seem bland in comparison to the priceless art that filled the rest of the manor.

  Graham ran his hands down the sides of the dusty frame.

  “What are you doin’? Should you be touchin’ that?” Helena stepped back and looked over her shoulder. “What if someone sees us?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not stealing it.” Graham found the tiny brass button hidden in the frame’s carved folds.

  A man and a woman walked by, their arms wrapped lovingly together. The woman giggled at a joke that Graham couldn’t hear. He glanced at Helena. Even if everything went right, and she decided to stay here and help him, they could never be like that enamored couple.

  Graham reached out for Helena, but he stopped himself from touching her. “You need to be quiet when we go down.”

  Helena nodded.

  Graham pressed the cold button. The door clicked open, and the dank, earthy cellar air washed over him. Though he’d been going down to the basement every day, the sickening scent of decay still gave him chills.

  “You ready?” A tiny part of him wanted her to say no, to turn around and escape the manor’s hold and never look back, but if she left here, not only would she leave him, she’d also take away any spark of hope he still had for Danny.

  “What’s down there?” Helena asked, sounding apprehensive.

  Graham flicked a switch, and dim yellow lights flickered to life. He moved to the top step. “Down here, I hope you can find your future.”

  She moved onto the top stair. The door clicked shut behind them. “I hope this place is filled with gold.”

  “I can say with the utmost certainty that it’s not.” Graham laughed, and some of his nerves slipped away.

  Dusty bottles of wine filled the racks on each side of the steps. In most ways, the cellar appeared to be nothing more than a cobweb-filled underworld, but it held secrets and more than one family’s tragedy. The bottom stair creaked as they stepped onto the dirt floor.

  “At one time, this was the manor’s dungeon. It was never really used; it was merely built as a show of power.”

  “And now you use it as a wine cellar?” Helena glanced at the bottles that surrounded them.

  Graham laughed, but the musty air deadened the sound. He led her around a rack of wine bottles to what appeared to be the back of the cellar. A worn gray stone the color of a grave marker jutted from the wall. He pushed it in with a click.

  A woman’s cough broke the silence as the door slid open.

  • • •

  Helena gasped. Her knees threatened to give out as she stared at the hospital beds lining the walls. One of the many IV pumps beeped. Bed after bed was filled with gaunt, pale men and women. There must have been at least thirty sickly people that she could see, although she guessed there could be more around the room’s far corner.

  One nurse was helping a man walk at the end of the hall, while another was talking to a patient. Everything in the room was shiny and clean, and the IV pumps and beds looked like they were top of the line, but everything was out of place. Why was there a hospital ward in the manor’s basement?

  “What’re all these people doing down here? What’s goin’ on? Who are they? Why are they here?” All of her questions spilled out in a mess of syllables.

  Graham put his hand to the small of her back. “It’s okay, Helena,” he said softly. “They’re all here by necessity or choice. I promise you.”

  There was an older man to their right. His eyes were closed, but his lips moved like he was talking in his sleep. She walked over to the bed and ran her hand over the footboard.

  “That’s Herbert. He’s Mary’s husband.”

  “Does Mary know he’s down here?”

  “Aye.” Graham led her farther down the corridor, to a bed where a boy lay with his eyes closed. The boy’s hair was silver, and his face was the pale white of the long-sick. In fact, the only color upon his skin was the pale pink of his thin lips.

  Something about him made Helena think of Rionna.

  “How old is he?” Helena whispered.

  The bed squeaked as Graham sat down on the edge and ran his hand over the boy’s forehead, pushing back a strand of the boy’s silvery hair. “Danny’s almost sixteen. He was the first to come to the infirmary.”

  She looked around at the lonely lines of beds—there were no visitors. “Who is he? Doesn’t his family care that he’s here?”

  “Yes. Mr. Shane and I care very much that he’s stuck in this place.”

  “Danny’s your brother?”

  “And that woman there.” Graham pointed to the next bed over where a haggard, smoky-haired woman lay fast asleep. “That’s my mother, Rose.”

  Her stomach clenched. What had happened to force both his brother and mother to live in a subterranean ward?

  A nurse turned the corner and rushed down the hallway toward them. Graham gave her a stoic nod, and the woman stopped and stared, wide-eyed, at Helena. “Who… I… I mean…” The woman took Graham by the arm. “Can you give us a minute, miss?”

  “Aye.” Helena wandered down the corridor between the rows of beds. Some patients were fast asleep, while others writhed and pitched violently, letting out raspy wails, as if they were fighting off demons only they could see.

  A monitor beeped from behind her, and she glanced back, catching sight of the smoky-haired Rose.

  She had wondered about his mother, but never in all her life would she have expected anything like this.

  The nurse talking to Graham circled something on her clipboard. Graham nodded, but there was a worried expression on his face.

  Helena stopped next to Graham as the monitor beeped again. “Is Danny okay?”

  “Excuse me, miss.” The woman in the white lab coat squeezed by her and pushed buttons on the boy’s IV pump.

  “There.” The monotonous beeping stopped. “Graham, I would appreciate if you would mention getting more staff to your stepfather.” The nurse glanced around at the filled beds. “I would hate for anything like what happened earlier this week to happen again.”

  Graham’s eyes darkened. “Aye.”

  The nurse pushed the clipboard under her arm and smiled. “See you soon.” She made her way out of the hall.

  Helena turned to Graham. “Why are all these people here? Why aren’t they in a real hospital?”

  He let out a long, tired exhale. “These people are all here because they need our help. Real hospitals would stuff them away in psych wards, out of sight and out of mind. Here, we can help them.”

  “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with them?”

  “Would you please sit?” Graham asked, patting the bed next to Danny.

  Helena gazed at the boy as she sat down next to him. Rionna looked so much like him when she slept, peaceful and innocent.

  She ran her thumb over the young man’s hand. A charge ra
n between them, just like what she had felt with Ayre. She jumped up, knocking into Graham.

  “Are you okay?” He stared at her, a sly smile on his lips.

  “I’m… I’m fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “No. You’re not. You felt something when you touched him, didn’t you?”

  “I… I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout.”

  The next bed over, Rose jerked in her sleep. Her white lips opened. “Never… No… Ghost… go away!”

  Helena took a step back.

  “It’s okay. She’s fine.” Graham put his hand to her arm, stopping her. “What happened when you touched Danny?”

  Helena looked back at the boy. “Nothing, just a small current.” She sounded madder than the old crone at the prison. “It ain’t anythin’.”

  “You and I both know that isn’t true.” He grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him. “I know about your gift. If you wanted to, you could help all the people in the infirmary. You could heal them. You could change so many people’s lives.”

  She stared at the patients surrounding her. “What are you talkin’ about, Graham?”

  “You’re a clairsentient… It’s okay…”

  “What in the bloody hell is a clairsentient?”

  “It’s someone who can harness energy. Some can see the future, some get a sense of foreboding when things are happening, and the more powerful clairsentients can heal—like you.”

  It was impossible. She’d never healed anyone.

  Except the boy in the river.

  But that had been a fluke.

  “I can’t do anything to help these people.”

  “Yes you can,” Graham said, his voice so low it almost sounded as if he were begging.

  “Graham, I don’t know what’s going on with me… I don’t know if I’m a healer, or mad, or if I’m just living in some sick, twisted dream. In any case, I’m not who you think I am.”

  “That’s not true. You saved that boy.”

  “I did CPR. It didn’t have anything to do with healing,” she said, spitting the word.

  His eyebrow rose. “So you’re telling me you felt nothing when you helped him?”

  She looked down at her hands. Her lungs ached as she thought back to the boy.