Always a Wanderer Read online

  She stayed silent. He was right. The ache in her gut told her everything she needed to know. Hell was coming.

  “We’ll search everywhere, from top to bottom,” Giorgio said. “I’ll call in the rest of our security team members and make sure that there weren’t any more bombs planted.”

  “Get it done.” Graham turned toward the hospital. “And make sure these people stay safe.” He let go of her hand. “I’m going to go in there and check on John.”

  From the way he spoke, she couldn’t tell whether he wanted to find the man dead or alive.

  “I’m comin’ with ya,” Helena said, moving after him.

  “I’ll take care of the crowd until my men arrive. Be careful in there,” Giorgio said, calling after them.

  The strange, warm feeling of Da’s presence returned. Was he trying to tell her something? As quickly as she wondered it, the warmth in her vanished, once again making her question her sanity as they made their way into the hospital. If Da had had a message, if he’d wanted her to know something, he would have stayed. He would have given her a clearer sign. Wouldn’t he?

  There was a loud moan from down the hall, and they rushed in the direction of the sound.

  “Get your goddamn hands off me! Get out of here! I’m fine!” Mr. Shane yelled. The shouting continued, the obscenities bouncing off the walls like fat rubber balls.

  “I guess he’s alive,” Graham said with an edge of disappointment. His footsteps slowed.

  Inside the hospital room, Mr. Shane stood beside the bed. His eyes were wild with fear, pain, and anger. He held a stainless steel tray up like a bat, waiting for anyone to come near him. He turned slightly, and Helena could make out the blood dripping down the shredded leg of his suit pants and pooling on the floor.

  She was slightly disappointed that he wasn’t more injured. He deserved a slow and painful death for what he had done to her, the position he’d put Graham in, and most importantly, the role he had played in Da’s death.

  “Everyone get out of here.” Graham ordered, and the doctor and the nurse scurried from the room.

  “You...this is all your fault,” Mr. Shane said, looking at Helena with the glare of a feral beast. “You should’ve never come to this place. You should have stayed back in your caravan, with your cursed family. You ruined everything. You ruined my life. You ruined Graham’s.”

  “I saved your wife. I saved your son. And the fact that I ain’t killed ya is as close to sainthood as I’m ever gonna get. The only one responsible for this storm is you, John,” Helena said, looking him straight in his crazed eyes.

  “You’re wrong. You’re going to cost us everything. We’re going to lose this place—the hospital, the manor, the grounds, all because you and your stupid father couldn’t just leave Neill and the rest of us alone.” As he spoke of her father, his body started to twitch, and the room warmed with a spiritual presence.

  John’s eyes rolled back in his head so that only the whites showed. His mouth opened, and his lips pulled tight. On the floor, near the pool of blood, was a collection of surgical instruments. In a series of jerky motions, John bent over, dropped the tray, and picked up a shiny steel scalpel.

  “What are you doing?” Graham asked, moving toward him.

  Helena reached over and took his arm, stopping him. “Don’t. It’s not John,” she said, staring at the scalpel in the man’s hands.

  John’s body shook violently, and the blade twisted through the air angrily.

  “Gra a mo gris?” John’s voice was replaced with the familiar sound of her da’s.

  Da had called her “love of my heart” since the day she’d been born, and hearing those words fall from her enemy’s lips made them sound foul. Yet they brought her great comfort, as Da was here. She didn’t have to live without him; for a brief moment in time she could have him back.

  “Da,” she said, her voice cracking. “Is it really you?”

  “Aye. I don’t got much time, but I couldn’t miss my chance to say goodbye, gra.”

  “Da, I’ll never let your death go unpunished. I’ll make everyone responsible pay,” she said, reaching for him. Then, seeing John’s face and his crazed look, she dropped her hand.

  “Gra, you and Graham...you don’t need the weight of the guilt of killin’ my enemies. Ya need to protect yourselves. There are many who’re gonna be jealous of the love ya share and the power ya hold.” John turned to Graham. “You need to protect her. Aye?”

  Graham nodded.

  “And you’re gonna need to be ready to take control. After today, this place will be yours to run. You’re gonna need to find people you can trust. There will be many who wear two faces.”

  John’s body shook violently.

  “I love ya, gra...” One eye rolled back into place, and when he spoke next, Da’s voice sounded like a garbled mix of his and Mr. Shane’s. “Ya have found a good man in your gorger. Love him, gra.”

  As the last word fell from his lips, Mr. Shane’s body contorted and the knife in his hand rose higher.

  What was Da doing?

  In one swift motion, the scalpel came down. Hard. It pierced the soft skin of John’s neck, slipping through his flesh like it was nothing more than tissue paper.

  She had once heard that when the jugular was pierced, it spurted blood up to a few feet in the air. Until this moment, she had thought she was just being put on by the telly, but as the blood squirted from John’s neck and landed on the ground in front of Graham’s feet, she saw that it was anything but a lie.

  The color in John’s face drained away as the blood pulsed from his body. With each pump of the heart, the fountain of blood grew smaller. John reached up and touched his neck, a look of disbelief on his face.

  “No...no. The manor...the money.” John collapsed.

  His head hit the floor with a sickening thud.

  The warmth that came with her father’s presence flooded the room, and she could have sworn she felt his embrace. As the sensation disappeared, so did the warmth. They were alone.

  Graham stared at the body at their feet. “I always knew I liked your father.”

  She laughed. The sound echoed through the room, and she clasped her hands over her mouth in horror at her lapse in manners. She hated John. He had killed her father, but she had no right to laugh at Graham’s stepfather’s death.

  Graham walked over and took her hands from her mouth. “Don’t feel bad,” he said, giving her the look that always made her melt.

  “I...” She thought about saying she was sorry for his loss, that she was sorry for what her da had done, but she couldn’t lie. She was thankful. The only regret she had was that she hadn’t wielded the blade.

  “No,” Graham said. “John deserved exactly what he got.” He pushed her hair out of her face.

  “What are we gonna do, Graham?”

  He looked into her eyes, and as he stared at her as a sense of calmness wash over her.

  “We’re going to be free, Helena. Without Mr. Shane, there’s no one standing in our way. We can do as we like. We can go anywhere. We can escape the HG’s grasp. We can sell this place. We can let others take on the hospital. Helena, we’re free, and we’re in complete control.”

  She thought back to the moment she’d stood in the hospital and felt trapped by the world around her. Now, in almost exactly the same location, she felt entirely different.

  She would always be a gypsy—always a wanderer with a need to explore, not just her world, but her feelings as well. And now, thanks to her new powers and the man at her side, she had everything she needed to take on the future.

  Together and in love, she and Graham held the world in their hands—and if she wanted, she had the power to be its queen.

  Thank you so much for reading Always a Wanderer.

  If you’ve enjoyed reading this story,

  please consider leaving a kind review.

  Turn the page to read the Prologue of

  Book Three of The Irish Traveller Ser
ies,

  Forever a Queen.

  Forever A Queen

  The Irish Traveller Series: Book Three

  PROLOGUE

  WISE ONES SAID THE only thing certain about a person’s life was death. Yet, Helena O’Driscoll had seen the other side. Life didn’t end when a body stopped breathing, no. The soul simply existed on a new plane on the other side of the veil.

  Others said the only certainty in a person’s life was change, but even that was somewhat predictable. To everything there was a duality—light would always be defeated by dark, and dark by light, tolerance was and would be sequestered by hate, and hate by tolerance.

  The only thing that truly held any certainty, in Helena’s eyes, was that one’s heart would always give love... Even if one’s heart had suffered at the hands of those unworthy of the extraordinary gift they had been given. For even she, who bore the scars of her mam’s hatred, had promised her heart to a man—and what a man Graham Kelly was.

  They walked out of her cottage, making their way toward his Mercedes. A man was squatting down beside it, doing something to Graham’s tire. He was wearing a black leather coat, and his head was shaved so close that the sun reflected off his oily skin.

  “Hey, you, who goes there?” Graham yelled into the harsh evening light.

  The man looked up, seeing them, he turned; the way he moved reminded her of a slug. As he oozed around on his heel, she could make out the brand on his pudgy ankle—the aged burn was in the shape of a triangle, pointed at the top, but its bottom was open and a series of lines ran through its center, the mark of the anti-supernatural organization, the Humanity Group, or the HG.

  They were here, on the grounds and far worse than the noxious slug she had taken him for.

  She knew it was only a matter of time until the HG descended upon them and sought vengeance for her killing of one of their leaders, Benjamin Poole. If only she had cut off the head of the snake and killed both leaders at the same time—if she had just known the identity of the second leader, they could’ve acted.

  Though they had been using every resource available to them, they were still searching for the identity of the second leader. And now, here they were coming under attack by their enemy and finding themselves ill-equipped to fight. If they didn’t get the answers they needed soon, they were going to lose everything—their friends, the support of the supernatural community, their homes, the manor, and even their lives.

  “Stop!” Graham yelled, running after the man.

  She took off after him, struggling to keep pace with Graham and his long legs. After a few hundred meters, she stopped to catch her breath.

  This is what a mortal would do.

  She outstretched her arms, readying herself to force the man with her powers, but she stopped. Though her powers of clairsentience had amplified since she had incinerated Poole, they were so new and so extreme she wasn’t sure about them just yet. As badly as she wanted to stop the man, she couldn’t risk hurting Graham. One little misfire, or stray strand of magic, and he would die along with the man she wished dead.

  “Catch him!” Helena yelled, lowering her arms.

  Graham disappeared over the hill and, from the direction of the main road, there was the sound of tires screeching on the tarmac.

  “Graham!” she called, running toward him, terror rippling through her. If something happened to him, she’d never be able to forgive herself. He was hers and she was his. Without him...

  No, I can’t think about it.

  As she ascended the hill, Graham popped into view. He was staring down at a large canvas bag that lay at the edge of the road. Its khaki surface was speckled with blood and though it was zipped closed, as she drew closer, the scent of decay and rotting flesh filled the air.

  “Helena, don’t come any closer.” He put out his hand, motioning for her to wait.

  “Where did it come from?” she asked.

  “The guy,” he started, motioning down the road with his chin, “he was part of—”

  “The HG,” she interrupted. “I know.”

  “Aye,” Graham said with a nod. “And he wasn’t at your place alone.” He kneeled down by the bag. “They threw this out just as the guy got to the car. Apparently, they wanted us to have whatever it is that was inside. They were sending us a message.”

  She knelt down beside him and took hold of the zipper. “Maybe this is nothing...” Her words sounded hollow and woody even to her as she unzipped the bag.

  As the canvas bag fell open, she was met with a severed head. The woman’s eyes were open and her tongue was swollen, but there was something familiar about. She had the same brown eyes, the same dark hair...

  This stranger looked almost identical to her.

  That was, all except her forehead...where someone had carved a bloody message that read: Ur Next.

  Helena stepped away from the bag as the smell of the woman’s rotting flesh wafted up to her. A wave of sickness overtook her and she turned away, trying to hold back the contents of her stomach.

  She had to get out of here. If the HG was going to keep hurting the innocent, if they were going to keep coming after her like this, she had to leave. No one else could get hurt because of her and her actions.

  She was damned.

  The only answer was to run, but Graham would never let her go alone. Though it was selfish, she wanted him there, beside her.

  And, if they were careful... If they just kept moving, they would never find themselves stuffed piece by piece into a bag like the innocent woman at their feet. But, over the last year, she had come to learn that the only uncertainty in her life was that she would do anything to protect the ones she loved.

  Acknowledgments

  A HUGE THANK YOU TO the many people who have helped make this book possible. Thank you all for believing in me and my stories!

  This book wouldn’t have been possible without the help and contribution of the Irish Traveller community. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions and for helping me learn about your culture. Whatever errors I have made are due to my own ineptitude and in no way reflect how generous the Traveller community has been in teaching me their lifestyle.

  It is my hope this book can be a shining example of the power of one voice...

  We mustn’t be afraid to fight for what our hearts know is right.

  About the Author

  DANICA WINTERS IS A Publishers Weekly, Walmart, and Amazon bestselling author who has won multiple awards for writing books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. Danica was also the winner of the Paranormal Romance Guild’s Reviewers Choice Award and Chanticleer Media’s Paranormal Book of the Year for her novel Montana Mustangs.

  When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana testing her patience while she tries to understand the allure of various crafts (she now refers to crocheting as “ninja-ing” so it can sound cooler). She always believes the cup is neither half full nor half empty, but it better be filled with wine.

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  Other Books

  By Danica Winters

  Ms. Demeanor

  Mr. Taken

  Mr. Serious

  Ms. Calculation

  Wild Montana

  Dust Up with the Detective

  Smoke and Ashes

  Forever a Queen

  Always a Wanderer

  Once a Gypsy

  Savannah Sacrifice

  Winter Swans

  Montana Mustangs

  The Nymph’s Labyrinth

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  Did you love Always a Wanderer? Then you should read Once a Gypsy by Danica Winters!r />
  Thrilling and romantic, Once a Gypsy starts a brand new series from Publisher's Weekly Bestselling Author Danica Winters."A haunting and fresh voice in paranormal romance. Be prepared for Danica Winters to ensnare you in her dark and seductive world."―Cecy Robson, author of the Weird Girls series and 2016 Double-Nominated RITA® FinalistEven for a clairvoyant, the future is never a sure thing.Helena has always struggled to fit in with her Irish Traveller family. It's not just her opposition to getting married or her determination to attend university; Helena also has one talent that sets her apart from the rest of her clan―the gift of the Forshaw, the ability to see the future.Graham is the groundskeeper at a manor in Adare, Ireland. Though the estate appears idyllic, it holds dark secrets, and despite his own supernatural gifts, Graham can't solve Adare Manor's problems by himself. Desperate for help, Graham seeks out a last resort: Helena, whose skills are far greater than even she knows.When he promises to teach her to control her powers, Helena resists, afraid both of the damage her abilities might do and her increasing attraction to the handsome groundskeeper. Her entire way of life is at risk: Any involvement, especially romantic, with non-Travellers like Graham is forbidden. But Helena's future is anything but certain, and fate has other plans for her family, her powers, and her relationship with Graham.

  Also by Danica Winters

  The Irish Traveller Series

  Once a Gypsy

  Always a Wanderer

  Forever a Queen

  Standalone

  Sweet Wine: Romance Short Story