Halsian* Woods outside Drakesheath Village, England, 1900

The woods around Drakesheath Village were preternaturally dark and deserted. Few animals dared show themselves, and even fewer winter birds twittered in the massive trees. Andrzej and Zora had moved rather quickly while crossing Europe, or so it had seemed. But their progress had nearly halted once they got to the edge of Halsian Woods. The living, upon whom they had eavesdropped on the way across England, had indicated that the forest was a small one. To Andrzej it seemed endless, but perhaps that was his imagination. It was the way of spirits to move from one place to another with little sense of time. How long had it been since they had learned of the English lord and Milosh Lalleri? How many times had they followed such stories to dead ends? So many Lalleri; so many encounters that ended in disappointment.

During each of their quests, Andrzej had done his best to deny his hopes, refusing to allow himself to believe that this time might be different. He had failed in this at every turn, but did not allow Zora to see it. She had been crushed too many times by disappointment. To protect her as best he could, he had adopted an attitude of skepticism toward the Lalleri lies. Zora said he had changed since their deaths. Perhaps he had. He could tell that sometimes his apparent cynicism hurt her, but believed it to be less painful than being infected by his eternal optimism.

"We're not getting anywhere," he said at last. They had stopped in a small clearing near a stream. A thin layer of ice had frozen over the water, sending it racing thru a crystaline tunnel before it tumbled over a cairn of small boulders and fell nearly a foot to form an icy pool. The cheerful sound of the water chuckling over the rocks was oddly jarring compared to the oppression of the rest of the landscape. Even the newly fallen snow Andrzej had always loved wasn't enough to dispell the feeling of evil in the air. He could tell that Zora felt it, too. "Haven't we seen that stream before?"

"She said this Drakesheath was cursed," Zora pointed out. She sank down onto a large rock near the small pool at the foot of the cascade and silently watched the water sliding gently beneath the ice as it continued its journey downstream.

"She also told us not to come."

Zora said nothing until Andrzej had joined her on the rocks. "Maybe she was right," she ventured quietly.

Andrzej turned to look at his cousin. She had that haunted look in her eyes again. He hated that. Suddenly, he chuckled. Haunted. What odd words spring into our minds sometimes. At the sound of his laughter, Zora frowned, her expression becoming more quizzical. Andrzej shook his head. "It's nothing," he said. He paused and then added, "We can't give up now, Zora. There's no curse here .... or at least, not one that can affect us now." He nudged her shoulder with his own. Zora didn't seem convinced. Perhaps he hadn't put enough conviction into his voice. "It'll be fine. Promise." He smiled.

She still seemed reluctant, but smiled back tentatively. "Do you think it's there?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly.

"What shall we do now?"

"I think we should split up," he replied, gazing into the darkness of the trees again.

"Split up? Andrzej...."

He turned quickly at the trepidation in her voice. "I don't mean forever, Zora. I mean...you go that way and I'll go this way. And whoever finds the village can summon the other." He could tell she didn't like the idea, but Zora was nothing if not strong. She would do it because he wanted to.

"Well..." she sighed. "I suppose it's the best way."

They each took a direction and headed off into the trees alone. It was odd not having Zora at his side. Of course, they had been apart before ... often ... but he always felt just a little bereft when they weren't together. He wondered if there was some kind of bond between them that had something to do with their deaths. That might account for it. Perhaps it was part of their earthbound status. Or perhaps it was simply all the time they'd spent together. Whatever it was, her absence always reminded him of waking up without her ... and that was something he preferred not to recall.


Castle Devlesa, 1567

Andrzej opened his eyes to confusion. He was lying on a comfortable divan in a huge stonewalled room. It took a moment to remember where he had seen it before. Castle Devlesa ... of course. Well, that wasn't its real name. He had no idea what it had orginally been dubbed, but the family called it 'God's Castle' — one of many charms they had devised for protecting it and those in it from evil. Perhaps that was because when they found it, it had seemed so stern and forbidding. Sinister. Almost evil.

The castle looked as though it had been deserted for decades. The dust and cobwebs that covered every room could only have come from years of neglect. And yet, oddly enough, all the furniture was still in place. The linens, the dishes, clothes in the cupboards, logs for the fireplaces, there had even been dried fruit and grain in the pantries. As though the owners had walked into the mountains leaving everything they owned behind...or had simply vanished. A discomforting thought at best. Still, the castle might provide the perfect place for the clan to hide until Andrzej could find Zora and return. For hide, they must. Laws were being passed all over Europe that made it punishable by death to be Romani...simply for being born Romani.

Andrzej and Nicolae, another of the young men from their clan, had managed to slip into the village wearing the clothes of the gaje. They had bought supplies and sat by the pub fire each nursing a single stein of beer for nearly an hour. Long enough to seem like travellers resting on their way thru town. Not long enough for the wary inhabitants to become suspicious. But they had heard enough. The villagers living at the foot of the mountain clearly thought the castle was haunted ... and cursed. It wasn't likely they'd be discovered there.

Before bringing the clan into such a ominous place, though, Vedan Cherusci had decided it should be cleansed. Zora's father had chosen the name for their refuge, hoping to put the castle and the clan under God's protection. The cleansing ceremony had taken several days. Only afterward had they turned their efforts to clearing away the signs of neglect. The clean-up effort had still been underway when Andrzej left to look for Zora.

Look for Zora ... but he had left the castle! Hadn't he? Or was that a dream? What had happened? He must ask Uncle Vedan. But first he had to find him.

Getting up from the divan, Andrzej began to wander the hallways, looking for someone ... anyone. At times he almost believed he could feel a presence in the castle with him. Several, in fact, that presented themselves as sudden warm spots, but at first he saw no one. He had no idea how long he searched, but eventually, he began to catch glimpses of them. Briefly at first, just in the corner of his eye, he would see Ferka or Valentina or Nicolae. Once he even thought he saw Tshaya ... his Tshaya ... but when he turned in her direction, he found only empty air. Mulo? Ghosts? All of them? Impossible. The clan must be safe. They must have been forced to move on. But when? While he slept? They would never have left him behind! After a time, he found himself going back thru the same rooms over and over again. As though drawn there against his will. Yet, still, he found the place as deserted as it had been the first time he saw it. Eventually, he came to the conclusion the clan had moved on. He refused to allow himself to think about the castle's original owners. No, the clan had moved on ... definitely. But why? And where was Zora?

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*hálsian (Old English) "to invoke spirits,"