The Necromancer's Daughter

|| eleven ||

"Can't sleep?" Grandma Vai asked Lucille. She shuffled her way out the front door of her two-storey manor and smiled. Lucille smiled but her brows frowned in wonder. Grandma Vai draw a huge breath and spoke, "I knew because of the chamomile tea."

Lucille slid a little to her left to make room on the bench she had been sitting on. Grandma Vai Padureani, the eighty-nine year old matriarch of this Gypsy Tribe, poured herself a cup of tea and sat. It was a little past midnight and only cicadas and the soft rustling of leaves could be heard. "Don't tell me you're having nightmares," she said endearingly.

Lucille chuckled. "No. The Necromancer doesn't scare me anymore." She had been asleep half an hour ago, but it was a shallow slumber. The slightest movement stirred her awake and she had trouble dozing back. She always had issues sleeping in new places.

When Kaven told her he was bringing them back to their tribe, Lucille didn't take it to mean a small town several miles from the nature reserve. It was a community of people descending from different families going back to the Gypsies' dark history. The land had been a thick forest once, until the first settlers, the Padureani Gypsies, direct ancestors of Granda Vai, Kaven and Jili, found sanctuary in it. They were running from exploiters who tried to capture them and enslave them for their passive but effective supernatural abilities. They built their homes and their lives in peace.

Their numbers gradually grew, as the First Gypsies were also saviours of the downtrodden. There were salvaged gypsies from other family lines: the Mirga, Cervenak and Badzo among others. Slaves of every race and culture were also rescued, freed and were given homes within the tribe. And then there were the occasional travellers, who were either lost or endangered, and sought assistance. People who were much alike Lucille and Rebecca.

"You have several questions," Grandma Vai spoke and then took a small sip of her tea. Lucille watched as the steam from the cup swirled and dissipated on the side of the old woman's face. "Choose one. I might be able to answer."

"I'm grateful for letting us stay here," Lucille started, "but aren't you worried we'd just be drawing The Necromancer here and disturb your peace?" This question had been on her mind the moment she and Kaven rushed inside her house looking for her. Without a moment's hesitation, the old woman prepared smelling salts to douse the girls awake. Lucille and Kaven needed not to explain anything to her, she already knew. Gypsy intuition, the witch presumed.

Grandma Vai shook her head and answered, "The oak trees around this town keep us protected. He will not be able to cross over." She took another sip of her tea, "You're safe here, dear." She turned her head and smiled warmly at the younger woman.

Lucille had been living on her own for a long time. Embracing The Craft meant she had secrets to keep and instead of lying about it to all her friends and family, she chose to move away and isolate herself. She could not remember the last time she felt welcomed, she could not remember the last time she trusted anyone else other than herself.

"Next question. I'll give you two more. Three's a fortune, yes?"

Lucille nodded. She didn't know that much about Gypsy magic, but she knew three was indeed a power charged number. Why only three? She wanted to ask, but ultimately decided not to.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. A myriad of unanswered questions flogged her mind and she could not decide which two she wanted answered now. She decided on one and before she changed her mind, she asked it. "Is she really my daughter?"

She was referring to the Lilian/Rebecca now sleeping in a cot inside the house. Again, a question that had been bugging her and keeping her from sleeping.