Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “The rights of a group shouldn’t be more important than the right of the individual. I will not allow it. Not now not ever. I have enough demons to contend with.”
“Why are you so against it? How do you know she won’t want it? As far as I can tell most of them will give up everything to be one of us.”
“One of us? Look at us? What is so fucking great about us?” I ask bitterly.
She fits her wig over her diseased head. “It’s not your choice to make. It’s hers. Time is running out and if you won’t do it I will,” she snaps.
“It won’t work without me,” I mumble through the pain.
“I’m desperate. I’ll try it.”
“Pour me a whiskey,” I mutter. The hurt has got into my head and it is so intense, I feel myself sinking to my knees.
I don’t hear her moving around, but a few seconds later, I see her hold half a glass of amber liquid close to my face. I take the glass and pour the whiskey down my throat. The burn has little effect on me. I give the glass back to her. “Another one,” I gasp.
She gives me another half-full glass and I throw it back. My head bobs with the goddamn agony in my neck and back.
She kneels next to me. “Why do you want to carry on suffering like this, Rocco? Just tell her. Give her the choice. Who knows our thing might be her thing,” she says.
An image of Autumn flashes into my mind. The innocence in her eyes… Isadora will never understand such a thing. I reach out a hand and catch Isadora’s wrist roughly. “Don’t hurt her, Isadora.”
“Why would I do that? I don’t want to hurt her. I just want my family to be whole again.”
I let go of her and try to focus on her face, but it swims before my eyes. “What if she says no, will you hurt her then?”
She smiles, a cruel smile. “She’ll never say no. Not when she’s already more than half in love with you. Now, let’s get you back to bed. You look like shit.”
I know she is my enemy. I know she can be deadly. I know she will take pleasure in hurting Autumn… so I offer my hand out as if in friendship. Her slender hand curls round mine, then tightens like a vice, and effortlessly she pulls me to my feet.
Yes, she will be a formidable opponent.
Chapter 31
Autumn
As we journey back down the mountain I stare blindly out of the window. I’m shocked and in a state of utter confusion. What had just happened back there? There is no way Rocco knocked the glass out of my hand because he believed the wine was corked.
Was the wine poisoned?
Why on earth would Isadora want to poison me? I’m nothing to her. I nibble on the nail of my thumb. Thank God, Sam is coming tomorrow. I feel as if I have fallen into a rabbit hole. It will be good to be with someone normal. I’ll tell her everything. I need to know I’m not going mad.
When Raoul drops me outside the shop, I decide to cycle home. The fresh air and exercise will do me good. By the time I get back it’s a quarter to midnight. As I’m chaining my bike to the metal pipe of my caravan, I notice the light in the old gypsy’s windows.
For a few seconds I hesitate, then I start walking towards her caravan. I knock on her door and immediately hear some movements inside. She opens the door and peers at me.
I swallow and suddenly feel ridiculous. “I know it’s very late, but how much do you charge to read someone’s fortune?”
“Ah, you are the child who lives in the caravan yonder,” she states, her voice is low and gruff.
“Yes.”
She smiles. “Well, since we are neighbors, I’ll be happy to read your fortune for ten dollars?”
That seems too cheap, and I’m immediately filled with pity for her. She is so old and yet she has to read fortunes for such a pittance. “Could you read it now?”
“Now?”
I nod. “Yes, I’m in a bit of a mess, and I… er… just wondered if you could maybe see something in my future in your crystal ball or tarot cards.” I can’t believe I just said crystal ball.
A gleam of amusement shines momentarily in her eyes, then it is gone. “Come in, little one. Let’s see what the tea leaves have to say to you.”
The inside of her caravan is a surprise. I’d imagined it would be crammed with dusty ornaments, bohemian crystal tableware, lace curtains, chintz cushions and old furniture, but instead it is incredibly clean and surprisingly bare. It’s hard to imagine a human being lives here. There is a small, square wooden table, two plain chairs tucked under it, and a neatly made narrow bed. There is nothing on the table or any of the shelves. On the kitchen counter sits an electric kettle, a ceramic container, and two fine bone china teacups and their saucers decorated with roses.