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C H A P T E R ☿ T W E N T Y S I X
THE PROVERBS SAY THAT ‘Pride goeth before destruction and arrogance before a fall’—there are certain times when I truly feel like that verse was written just for me. Whether it is due to my habit of acting without thinking or something else entirely, it all boils down to one thing—just when things seems to be starting to look up, something else happens and I get knocked right off my feet again. Perhaps the problem is fate itself—there are those who say it can be the cruelest of creatures; I think that must be very true—it seems to me that fate intentionally weighs the moments of happiness we experience on some kind of cosmic scale, just so it can be sure to balance them out with equal portions of grief. I understand, of course, that both things are necessary in the grand scheme of life—after all, without the bad times, we might not truly appreciate the good things that happen. But I, for one, would like to embrace happiness just one time without accursed trouble nipping at the back of my feet, catching me completely off guard.
I will admit that I was more than a little smug as the Professor led us from the restaurant—but in that moment, as far as I was concerned, I had good reason to be. With a single handshake, I’d solved all Tobar’s problems, assuring him acceptance when he decided to share his secret, while at the same time managing to guarantee that he would be able to go after his dreams. I’d secured a place for my brother and I within the local community, winning over a room full of strangers with nothing more than an impromptu little speech—and I’d saved the professor money to boot. Even more importantly, my brother was casting looks of adoration my way, gazing at me as if I’d hung the moon—impressed beyond reason by the way I’d held my own against Tsura. All in all, I was so puffed up with pride that it is a wonder I didn’t float away like a helium filled balloon.
Which, of course, meant that fate couldn’t resist the temptation to knock me down a few notches—it just had to intervene.
As we exited the building, I was surprised to see that the sky was dark—gray, angry storm clouds had rolled in during my time inside. The air was thick and heavy in that strange way it gets when a heavy rain looms on the horizon, but has not yet begun to fall. Cool wisps of misty condensation dampened my skin—I shivered, despite the thickness of my borrowed sweater. Immediately, Pietro slid his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side.
“The lot was roped off—I had to park three streets over,” the Professor mumbled, buttoning up his cardigan and setting off; his steps were long and fast, making it hard for me to keep up—I tripped, stumbling over my own feet.
“Do we have to walk so fast?” Pietro asked, tightening his arm around me in an attempt to keep me upright.
“Yes—I have far more to do today than I planned, thanks to your sister,” the old man snapped.
I frowned, stopping in my tracks—jerking my twin to a stop beside me. “Me? What did I do?”
“You interfered when you should have kept quiet, that’s what!”
“I did not! She was talking about me—that is hardly interfering! And I saved you money—”
He spun around, retracing his steps—grabbing my shoulders in an iron grip as he glared down at me, tugging me away from my brother’s side. “Every time they pin their hopes on something and it does not happen, it drains away a bit of their souls! You promised them Szandau—something you cannot deliver! How do you think they will feel when they realize you played them all for fools?”
“I didn’t! I—” My voice trailed off as he gave me a shake.
“You did! But you couldn’t stop with just that—oh no! You had to take it a step further by casually agreeing to dismiss a decision made by the local Kris—effectively thumbing your nose at their authority!” He punctuated each word with another hard shake—I was starting to get dizzy.
“Get your hands off my sister.” The low growl of warning made the hair on the back of my neck prickle—now was not a good time for the old man to test Pietro’s control; as much as he respected the professor, I could sense how close his temper was to snapping—his nerves were frayed, leaving him far more tempestuous than usual.
“I’m not hurting her—”
“You’re touching her,” Pietro spat, his hands fisting at his sides. “Upsetting her!”
“Tsura didn’t mention this thing at all,“ I said, trying to blink back my tears—knowing the sight of them would only serve to make my brother more irate. “I don’t know what this thing… Kris… means.”
“She did mention it, albeit by another name,” he growled, releasing my shoulders; Pietro pulled me into his arms—I buried my face in his neck. “They oversee problems within the community—they are our version of the law, Wanda. When Hanzi informed Tebera of Terezie’s running away, she immediately had the Kris convene to render judgment on the girl—they banished her for life.”
“But Tebera named me to follow her… surely that means—”
“Not every Roma shares her superstitious beliefs, Wanda! For every twenty that do there are ten who see it for what it is—complete and utter garbage. The members of the Kris are rational men—they won’t care about that ridiculous title any more than I do. Instead they will see a young girl who thinks she is above their law and assume that means she thinks she is their better—they will set out to teach her a lesson, putting her in her place!”
“They can’t do anything to her,” Pietro scoffed. “They have no power over us.”
“You have no idea what they are capable of, son. I wonder If you would be so flippant about it if your sister came up missing—grabbed off the street and bartered away to a faraway kumpanìya in another part of Europe? Or if the authorities were alerted that you were orphans and they took you away, sending you to different homes?” The old man shook his head, tugging at his beard—there was a wildness in his eyes that scared me. “They will wait, and watch, learning all they can—then they will strike, seeking retribution.” “Tobar said Ruska is different from their group… that there are different rules.” I said—my voice shook, betraying my fear. “Doesn’t that mean they can’t—”
“You are Ruska without a vìtsa or kumpanìya here in the city, like me. You have no Rom baro in Novi Grad to protect you from their wrath,” he snapped. “ And you obviously still don’t understand! The Kris is only part of the problem, you foolish girl! You have no idea what you’ve set into motion today!”
“I set Tobar’s feet on the path to achieving his dreams,” I shot back. “I helped when I could—isn’t that what you said we were supposed to do? Wasn’t that one of the lessons you shared?”
“This has nothing to do with the boy and his family, Wanda! Before witnesses you accepted the title of chóvi’hánni!”
“So what if I did? What does it matter if Simza and Tsura think I believe in the superstitions—”
“It is not just them, Wanda—there were others present! The wait staff… the men in the kitchen—you saw how they responded! They will go home tonight and share the news with their kin and neighbors who will then turn around and pass it again—by the end of the week every Rom in Novi Grad will know what you said today. The word will pass from one to the next… spreading slowly from kin in this place to kin in that place, traveling from city to city among those who still wander—soon everyone in Sokovia will have heard.”
I blinked, trying to fight back the unease that was creeping along my spine. “Why would anyone even care?”
“The children of Israel waited more than four hundred years for the deliverer of prophecy to set them free and lead them home—our people have waited almost two thousand years for the exact same thing! Tebera has made it known that only the reincarnation of Genia herself can succeed her as chóv’háni—in tying yourself to her and pretending to believe her raving delusions, you’ve given credence to everything she has said. Our people will believe that the old prophecies have finally come to pass—that Tchin and Genia have been reborn and walk among them once again, to set them free from the persecution and hatred of the gadje, leading them to the promised land. Do you understand what that means, little chóvi’hánni?” He drawled the word out, his voice full of mocking derision. “The superstitious will seek you out, like petitioners making a pilgrimage to a holy shrine. They will come to you seeking help for problems you cannot solve—seeking miracles that only God above can provide!”
His words were like a slap—finally I realized the enormity of my mistake. “I only wanted to help,” I whispered. “I did not think—”
“Oh that is quite obvious,” he snapped. “Do you know what happens when our people gather together, Wanda? Because they will gather, I promise—it is inevitable now, thanks to your little oration in there. It won’t happen right away, but I guarantee you before a month or two pass, it will happen. One or two at first, then when they see it is relatively safe they will send for their families. Kumpanìya after kumpanìya will camp around your borrowed house, filling the neighborhood overflowing until eventually word of their presence will reach the ears of the police. What do you think will happen then, little girl? Have you thought that far in advance?”
“Professor… I—”
“Is that a no, then? Fine, let me enlighten you. In the very least the police will respond to the rumors about two orphans squatting in an abandoned, run down house—they will investigate and discover your parents are dead and there is no family around to claim you. You will be shipped to an orphanage—lodged in a girl’s dormitory, far away from your beloved twin. They will put you to work in the kitchen—a preferable treatment to what Pietro will receive, I think, considering they usually make the boys do hard, manual labor. That is, of course, unless of course they decide to arrest you for squatting and vagrancy, in which case you will be sent spate detention facilities—”
“Stop,” I whispered tearfully, “please—”
“I’m not finished—there are others who will suffer. The people who have flocked to the chóvi’hánni for assistance and protection will certainly not be allowed to leave the city unscathed. In case it has escaped your notice, our justice system is quite corrupt—they are in cahoots with the unscrupulous military units that sweep the streets, forcing young men into their ranks… and I am not talking about just the official army, but also the barbarous independent militias that have slowly been taking over the city. They will come and collect every single Roma male they come across. In helping one you have condemned God only knows how many—possibly even your brother if the police decide to turn him over to them. Those that resist will be beaten… arrested… then probably tortured until they are broken beyond repair. Their wives and sisters and daughters will be harassed—some raped and killed. Their campers or whatever shelters they erect will be burned to ash, possibly with helpless children inside—”
“She asked you to stop!” Pietro snarled as I started shaking. “You don’t know that any of this will happen—you are being over dramatic, just like the old crone! Assuming the worst and spewing it out as truth!”
“I do know—I have seen it time and time again, boy! It is why I have hidden the truth of who I am for most of my life!” The old man’s face was blood red as he shouted. “It is what Yuliana and I fled from over and over until we found this city and remade ourselves so we could have a normal life!”
“We will leave,” I said abruptly, pulling away from Pietro. “We will pack up or things and—”
“That will save your skin and your brothers, but what about all the innocents you’ll leave in your wake? Another Porajmos might be beginning because of your thoughtless words and all you care about is saving yourselves!” Fast as an adder, her moved, practically jerking me off my feet as he shook me again—this time so hard that my teeth rattled against each other, biting into my tongue. “Do you honestly think all the Nazis are dead and gone, girl?”
“Let me go—” I choked out, trying to break free of his grip.
“Not until you understand! The Black Legion still exists! They are everywhere, hiding their true allegiances… pretending to help achieve peace—but it is all lies. Their evil purpose has not changed—and this time they will not stop until every Romani on the planet is piled in one of their accursed unmarked graves!”
Before I could respond I was yanked backwards out of his grasp—Pietro stepped between us, practically bristling with anger. “If you ever touch Wanda like that again I will kill you old man.”
“Pietro—”
“No! You belittle her for this predicament without even asking why she went there today!”
“Because the reasoning does not matter!” The old man snapped.
“Tell him, Wanda…” Pietro growled, “or I will.”
I reached into my pocket, pulling out the bottle, holding it up for him to see. “I wanted to help you… with the cancer. Tobar said Simza has extended people’s lives with her medicines… I couldn’t bear the thought of us losing you like we lost Mama and Papa.”
“You see? My sister cares about people—your angry assumptions about nameless, faceless strangers torments her.” Pietro’s voice was low and menacing; his hands fisted at his sides—a clear sign of how hard he was struggling to control his anger. “I am not my sister… I do not care about what happens to anyone but her, and I will not stand by and let you disparage her for doing what Mama taught her to do— listening to the compassion within herself!”
My heart skipped a beat at the impassioned way he spoke; he looked heartbreakingly beautiful in his fury—like one of the ferocious archangels from the stained glass windows of a church… far too ethereal to be real.
“I should not have let my temper get the better of me,” the old man mumbled, scrubbing his face with his palms. “I am an old fool—haunted by the horrific things I have seen over the course of a lifetime.”
“Can’t I just tell Tsura that I did not understand what she was asking? That will erase both problems, yes?” I turned around, intending to march right back to the restaurant and do exactly that.
“It won’t erase anything,” he said, grabbing the back of my sweater and jerking me to a stop. “What’s done is done—a deal was made, girl. If you back out now you will lose the support of Tebera’s followers—right now their belief in you is the only thing in your favor. The kris will be wary of acting right away—they won’t want to risk having such a large group revolt against their judgment when Novi Grad is in such a state of unrest. It would be too easy for them to pick up and move to another city where there is peace… to choose another Rom barò to lead them. They will be very cautious in how they proceed… careful not to incur Tebera’s wrath. And the kris’ will want to avoid attracting the attention of the gadje—that is another point in our favor.”
“But you just said—”
“I was simply trying to impress upon you how serious the situation is, Pietro.” The old man sighed, tugging at his beard. “Acting without thinking caused this problem—we cannot afford to make matters worse by repeating the same mistake. I need time to figure things out… to come up with a foolproof course of action to solve both problems at once—one that doesn’t include having your sister back pedal on her sworn word.”
A clap of thunder sounded, so loud that it made me flinch—as if God above were voicing his opinion on the issue; it was the only warning sign we received—the lurking storm was upon us. A fat raindrop hit my nose, followed by another—the old man groaned, glaring up at the sky.
“Come—we don’t have time for squabbling now. I am far too old to risk getting soaked to the bone—and I don’t relish the thought of dealing with pneumonia settling in and taking up residence in my lungs alongside the tumors.”
Pietro grabbed my hand, steadying me as we ran for the car; for an old, sick man, the professor was very fleet—but then, his long legs certainly contributed to his speed. Even running, we barely made it—the heavens opened up just we reached the car. By the time Pietro tugged the car door closed behind us, we were soaked to the skin, thanks to the sky letting loose a torrential downpour—one that was so heavy that it was hard to see out the windows.
As the old man put the car into gear, I chewed on my lip, hesitant to continue the discussion—but the urge to set things right was gnawing at my insides. “Professor… maybe I could—”
“Wanda, Please! I need to concentrate on the road.”
“Don’t snap at her!” Pietro growled, leaning up to glare at him. “This isn’t your problem—it is ours. It doesn’t concern you at all!”
“Ah yes, because I am the type of man who abandons children when they are in trouble—especially when one of them was trying to help me.” Sarcasm laced the old man’s words as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “Besides of which, it does concern me—I’m the one who took you there in the first place. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess—you can’t deny that. I’d hoped to give you a sense of who you are… a connection to your parents—not for you to get roped in to nonsense and archaic superstition.”
I tugged on Pietro’s arm, gently pulling him back—shooting him a silent plea with my eyes; he sighed, sliding his arm around my shoulder—his body was still tense with pent up anger, like a bow string drawn too tight. “That still doesn’t give you the right to treat her rudely… she was only trying to help—”
“I appreciate the medicine, son, but that does not mitigate things, Pietro. She shouldn’t have meddled in their family affairs—the situation with Tobar was not her concern. If that boy wanted to be a healer so much then it was up to him to stand his ground—it was not your sister’s place to speak for him.”
“That’s not the only reason I did it,” I said, resting my cheek against my brother’s neck. “He is… different—he asked me to help him make his mother accept that.”
“Of course he’s different than you—he was raised believing in fairy tales,” he shot back. “What I can not for the life of me understand is why you would agree to assist him after what he tried to do to you—”
“He doesn’t like girls, Professor,” I blurt it out, hoping that Tobar would understand my betrayal of his confidence, given the circumstance. “He went along with his mother’s demands thinking it would keep her from finding out that he is… you know… homosexual.” My voice was soft, but it was obvious he heard me from the sound of surprise he made. “That I why I made her agree to accept all his choices… not just the one about learning healing.”
“Dear God above… it just gets worse and worse,” he muttered under his breath.
Closing my eyes, I sighed—there was no point in trying to make him understand; a thick, oppressive silence filled the car—it was broken only by the sound of the tires as they moved across the wet cobbles of the street. Pietro gave me a little squeeze of support that somehow made me feel even more melancholic—hating the fact that I’d caused so much strife without meaning to, I shifted, stretching my neck to press my lips against his ear to whisper. “Do you think he will ever forgive me?”
“Of course—he is just in a snit,” he whispered back. “I bet by the time we—”
The car abruptly swerved, skidding across two lanes—I shrieked, clinging to Pietro, my terror so strong that it took me a moment to realize we’d come to a stop. “What—”
“Stay in the car—I won’t be long,” he said gruffly, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind him.
“Did we hit something?” I asked, loosening my grip on my brother—craning my neck to try and peer out the window through the sheet of rain obscuring the back window, praying that the old man hadn’t hit some poor stray dog or cat.
“I don’t think so—look, he’s going inside.” Pietro clambered over me, peering out the window. “What do you think he’s doing?”
“I pressed my face against the glass beside his, studying the building—trying to ignore the pang of worry that welled up in my stomach. “Maybe he’s planning on going away until it all blows over… to visit his children or something.”
“No way—he doesn’t talk to them, remember?”
I gnawed on my thumbnail, contemplating the comment, then shrugged. “He could have changed his mind—maybe Tsura wanting to see her daughter got him thinking about things.”
I flopped back in the seat, heaving a deep sigh; thanks to all the tension and stress, my head was starting to ache something fierce. “I hope he hurries—my head hurts… and it’s getting stuffy in here.”
“Yeah… and you stink,” he grumbled, cracking open the door.
I was so relieved at the cool, damp air filtering in that I didn’t huff at the insult—it was hard for me to take offense when what he said was true; the strong, pungent scent of the incense that burned in Simza’s rooms lingered in the fabric of my clothing—the acrid smell was definitely a contributing factor to the throbbing in my head.
“Maybe he’s planning on smuggling us out of the country,” he said, tossing me a lopsided grin. “You’re small enough to fit in a suitcase, I think.”
“I am not! And for your information, I still happen to be growing!” I shot back, scowling.
“So am I—which means you will never be as big as me again. Only fitting since I’m the oldest.”
He looked so smug I almost reached over to give him a good hard pinch. “Don’t start that!”
“Why not? It’s the truth. I will always be your older, bigger brother, no matter how tall you get, forever and ever—that’s never going to change.”
The unexpected chill that crawled up my spine had absolutely nothing to do with the cold air coming through the door; it was the same sort of eerie feeling I’d had when I’d stared into the blackness of the alley on the night I was attacked by the bum—only much, much worse. All of a sudden, I couldn’t breathe—a sharp, crushing pain welled up in the center of my chest, like my heart was caught in a vice. I closed my eyes, fighting against the sensation—saying a silent prayer that God would help me chase the dark feelings away.
“I was only teasing, Pietra…honest.”
The gentle press of Pietro’s hand on my cheek was proof that God was listening—I let out a sigh of relief as the bad feelings ebbed away. Opening my eyes, I forced a smile—wanting to erase the guilty look on his face. “I know… a goose walked on my grave, that’s all.”
He frowned at the idiom, immediately tensing. “Don’t say that—not ever.”
I blinked. “I just meant—”
“That’s what Mama said, Wanda! Don’t you remember? Right before… you know.” His jaw tensed—his gaze dropping from mine.
I felt like I’d been punched right in the stomach—for a single second… I’d forgotten one of the most important things of all… the last words our mother had spoken before she’d vanished through the floor. Hot tears pricked my eyes, making his face blur—I didn’t try to hide them. “I… Pietro… I forgot. How could I forget that?”
“It’s okay… maybe you put it out of your mind,” he said gruffly, still avoiding my eyes. “Just don’t say it again—it’s bad luck.”
“It’s not okay,” I whispered. “I don’t want to forget anything about them, Pietro—I want to remember everything… not just the big important things like that, but the little ones too—”
“It probably just slipped your mind for a minute. You said it instinctively, you know? The way she used to do all the time.” His voice softened, his gaze finally returning to mine, but I refused to be soothed.
“And what if the next thing that slips my mind is the sound of her voice? Or the way her hair felt against my cheek?” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Or maybe the way Papa’s arms felt when he scooped us up and held us close, dancing around the room? How long until it all fades away and I lose those things forever?”
“Wanda! You need to calm down! A lot has happened today—you are clearly overwrought and tired… and you said yourself that your head is aching, yes?” He pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. “It doesn’t mean you forgot Mama.”
“But—”
“There are no buts—if anything I would think you saying it means subconsciously Mama was in your thoughts.” Frowning, he glanced out the window, then pressed his lips against mine in a quick, chaste kiss. “If you calm yourself and stop fretting… I promise I will give you a proper sort of kiss later, when we are alone.”
Thankfully, the furtive, completely unexpected press of his lips against mine surprised me so much that it snapped me out of my panic before it could firmly take root; in fact, it was so effective that I was determined to have another kiss—fully embracing the notion that his kisses might possible drive all my worries completely out of my head.
“We are all alone right now,” I murmured, trying to reclaim his lips.
“He could look out the window to check on us,” he said sternly, tilting his head so his mouth was out of my reach. “If you can’t behave then you cannot sit on my lap.”
“It’s raining too hard for him to see and you know it,” I huffed, wrapping my arms around him—clinging to him so he couldn’t move me back onto the seat. “And anyway, that is not a rule.”
“It is now—”
“You can’t just make up random rules on the spur of the moment, Pietro Maximoff!”
“Yes I can—I’m the oldest. That’s how it works, little sister,” he shot back.
“Papa was older than Mama but he never bossed her around,” I pointed out, pouting.
“That is entirely different—she was his wife,” he argued.
“I thought that’s what you wanted me to be someday when we are fully grown… or am I mistaken?” I asked, my fingertips teasing the soft skin at the nape of his neck that was hidden beneath his curls.
“I do want that…” his voice softened, “more than anything.”
“Well then the two things clearly will not be mutually exclusive—after all, I will still be your sister even then, yes?” I murmured, my fingers straying up to play with his curls. “So since I will be both, don’t you think it is better not to form such bad habits now?”
His brow crinkled up with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“This making up rules on the spot business… if you get into the habit of doing it now then you will most likely do it later too, when I am more than just your sister—”
“You’re already more…” he said softly, running his fingertips along my cheek. “You are my promised, remember?”
“Of course I do.” I blushed, ducking my head down—pleased almost as much by the reverence in his voice as I was by the look of longing on his face. “I’m just saying that unless you plan on being a bossy tyrant of a husband to me when I am your wife—”
“Wanda! I wouldn’t ever be like that!” Hurt danced along my skin—he was wounded that I would even imply such a thing.
“Then you must break the habit now, yes?” I murmured cajolingly, glancing up at him from under my lashes—fluttering them a little.
“Trying to get your way with soft looks and sweetness… are you using your womanly wiles on me, Pietra?” He murmured—his voice was husky as his hands strayed down to grip my hips.
“Perhaps…” My lips twitched up in a smile as I wrapped my fingers in the thick silkiness of his curls. “I suppose it all depends on whether it is working or not, doesn’t it?”
He nuzzled the tender skin behind my ear—his words were a warm, soft whisper against my skin. “I like your wiles very much… use them some more, please.”
I giggled, turning my face—rubbing my nose against his. “I am sorry to disappoint you, my brother, but I only know about that one because I saw Mama use it on Papa. I don’t know any more wily tricks yet.”
“Well… I guess that means we will just have to discover them as we go, won’t we?” His fingers moved, gently kneading up and down my spine. “We could start trying to figure them out now… I am fairly certain your lips are just as sweet as your words, yes? I do have quite a weakness for sweet things…”
“Wouldn’t that be considered against the rules?” I teased, brushing my lips against his cheek; the corner of my mouth barely grazing his before I pulled back—flashing him a smile of completely feigned innocence.
He chewed at the corner of his lip for a moment—remaining silent; I sighed, untangling my fingers from his hair—shifting to slide off his lap, back onto the seat. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to push when you said to wait.”
He frowned, but still, he did not speak; instead, he just leaned over, tugging the car door closed.
“Hey! It’s going to get all stuffy in here again!”
Ignoring me completely, he moved again—stretching over the middle console and leaning across the driver’s seat; there was a faint clicking noise, then he sank back beside me with a smug little smile on his face.
I eyed him. “Pietro? What are you up to?”
“He told us to stay in the car—surely he wanted the doors all closed and locked for safety’s sake.”
“Yes… but—”
“If the doors are all closed, the windows will get foggy from the stuffy air, yes?” His smug little smile widened into a full out grin. “And if they are locked for safety reasons… the Professor will have to take the time to unlock them.”
I made a face at him. “What does that matter?”
“Wanda… for someone so smart, sometimes you can be very slow about catching on to things,” he teased, pulling me back into his lap. “Foggy windows means he won’t be able to see inside, even if he is standing right beside the car—though we should probably slouch down, just to be safe—and the sound of the door unlocking will warn us that he is back.”
“That really doesn’t explain anything,” I said crossly, my lower lip sliding forward as I sulked.
He chuckled, tracing my pouty lower lip with his finger. “Why would I go to so much trouble, sweet sister? If you think about it for a moment… I am positive you can figure it out.”
I blinked as I slowly tried to processed the meaning of his actions—my eyes widening as it all clicked into place. “You mean this? Really? Don’t tease me if you aren’t serious—”
His mouth claimed mine, silencing me—his lips soft and teasing; just as my head started spinning from the deliciousness of his barely there kiss, he pulled back just a little, his breath warming my lips as he whispered. “Some people say that rules are made to be broken, Pietra… and just for today… I happen to agree with them.”
