Chapter One

“Look, Detective Kazinski.” Willa cringed as the name crossed her lips. Bastard…liar…cheat…drunk, just a few of the hits on his list of ‘illustrious’ character traits. Behaviors she’d experienced firsthand and hated with a shiny purple passion. Looking into his eyes, was like going back in time. She saw her step-father, another bastard the world was better off without. Hate, self-loathing and the need to punish others to feel good about himself made Willa sick to her stomach.

Snakes, that’s all men like Kazinski and Raymond would ever be. Extortion, intimidation and fear were the tools of their trade. A lifetime of looking over their shoulders, wondering when the ax would fall, or someone would shove a knife in their backs had made them paranoid and dangerous. Thankfully, Willa was immune to their ‘charms’.

“I know we have somewhat of a ‘tenuous’ working relationship, but you have to listen to me.” The last words were spoken through gritted teeth with her hands fisted on the strap of her purse so tightly the silver studs bit into her palms. “This is a matter of life and death.”

Sitting back in his rickety, worn, wooden chair, the squeak of the springs so loud it echoed off the dingy green walls, the overinflated, ego-maniac with the worst comb-over in seven counties, sucked at his brownish- yellow teeth and snorted, "The only thing I have to do is listen to your complaint.” He chewed on the end of a cracked pen like he’d been without food for a week as he rocked even farther back, prompting Willa to promise herself to buy the city a can of WD-40 and personally deliver it to Det. Assface as she listened to him add, “And, if I’m honest, you’re lucky I haven’t thrown you in a cell for wasting my time.”

Another screech of metal-on-metal made chills run down her spine as the literal bane of her existence flopped forward, let his elbows plop on the pock-marked top of his desk, and threw his pen down before narrowing his beady mud-brown eyes and sneering, “You need to get your dirty gypsy ass outta my office and out of this station before I figure out a way to charge you with aiding and abetting, obstructing justice, and waste of city funds for your fuck up with the Cecily Mathers case.” He was breathing hard, his face was turning red, and his voice shook. "I would love nothing better than to let the ladies in Cell Block C have fun with your tight little ass for ten to twenty."

Squaring her shoulders, shoving the pain she felt at the mention of the little girl who had been kidnapped, tortured and eventually murdered, Willa got to her feet, leaned over the desk and seethed, “That little girl’s death is all on you, Det. Kazinski and you damn well know it. You fucked that up and tried to pin it on me. If you’d just listened and gone where I told you, she wouldn’t have died. But no. Not you. You knew better. Then when the heat came down from above, you did what all cowards do, you ran and hid and used me as a scapegoat. You smeared my name through the press just to keep your lazy, fat ass in that chair.” Putting the tips of the fingers of her left hand on the top of his dirty, stained desk calendar, she leaned as close to him as she could stand, the scent of stale cigarettes and whiskey assaulting her senses. “Wanna look me in the eye and tell me any different, Alan?”

The color drained from the detective’s face at the use of his first name which only strengthened Willa’s need to watch him squirm like the leech that he was. “Maybe I should ask Mary or Beth or Sally, hmm? Whatcha think? I’m sure your ex-wives would have lots to say about your character.”

Pushing up to her full height of five-foot-nothing, she gave her hands a quick wipe on her long multi-colored skirt and winked, “Or would it be better if I talked to Jacob and Ashley?” She narrowed her eyes. “You remember them dontcha? They’re the kids you had out of wedlock and never acknowledged.”

“Why you…” Detective Kazinski jumped to his feet, his face as red as a fire engine with sweat dotting his forehead and upper lip as he continued his growled threat, “lowlife, piece of trash, fucking gypsy, if you so much as…”

“Detective Kazinski!” Daniel Metcalfe, the Chief of Police bellowed, his thick black eyebrows so low only the slimmest crescent of his onyx eyes could be seen. “My office, now.” Turning to Willa, he bowed his head before he softly acquiesced, “Please accept the Department’s sincerest apologies.” Stepping forward, he handed her a stark white business card as he attempted to smile. “If you wish to lodge a formal complaint, please contact me directly.” Moving to the side, allowing Det. Kazinski to flee the scene, the tall Romani added, “We have a zero-tolerance policy where racial bigotry is concerned. You can rest assure, Det. Kazinski will be reprimanded to the fullest extent for his behavior today.”

"Thank you, Chief…Daniel." The last word was barely a whisper that she had no idea if he'd heard or not.

Watching the man she'd known from her childhood as Danny, Willa couldn't help but be sad that they'd lost touch. He'd been one of her closest friends, had run with the ‘group', and no matter what always had her back. But then, his parents got divorced and Daniel's mom, Henrietta, packed up and took him back to her hometown in Texas. She'd had enough of the Romani way of life, enough of being treated like an outsider and most of all, enough of being treated like a slave by Danny’s dad. It wasn't until his picture was in the paper announcing that he was the new Chief of Police that Willa even knew her old friend was back in town.

“Oh, well, can’t go back,” she sighed under her breath, turning away and heading through the busy squad room towards the front entrance.

Ignoring the hostile stares and whispered slurs, Willa burst through the tall, wooden and glass double doors, stomped down the concrete steps and threw herself into Mars’ red, white and primer gray ’67 Mustang convertible. Slamming the door with a loud exhale, she let her head fall back onto the headrest that was more black electrical tape than leather and foam and groaned, “Is it too early to get drunk?”

The loud rumble of the 320hp her best friend had rebuilt with his own two hands roared to life making her crack a smile right before he snickered, “It’s five ‘o’ clock somewhere.” Putting the car into gear and burning rubber as he tore away from the curb, Mars added, “Guess old Dickface wouldn’t listen?”

“No, he wouldn’t.” She let out another defeated sigh. “He just brought up… umm… brought up…” She couldn’t make herself say the little girl’s name, not again. Thankfully, Mars’ understood and immediately patted her hand on the seat. “I know, Will. I know.”

Having Mars' by her side eased some of the pain. He was one of those people with the ability to make even the darkest days seem better, lighter… happier. The sound of the wind ripping through the open windows and the rumble of the engine further helped to sooth some of Willa's frustration but also opened the doorway in her mind that led to the wounded man. The one she'd been trying to get Det. Asshat to at least go look for. Visions of the man trapped in the darkness chained like a dog to something large, dense and damn near impenetrable, literally trying to climb what she could only guess was stone with what looked like long, sharp talons assaulted her consciousness.

His howls of pain and sorrow reached to the bottom of her soul, wrapped around her heart, and demanded that she take heed. The maelstrom inside his mind was powerful, treacherous and trying to consume his very soul. Flashes of powerful white magic exploded again and again, attacking the ominous evil, trying to force it from his mind, pushing it back, only to be overcome at every attempt.

The battle was real. He was fighting for his very existence, reaching for Willa like a lifeline, his only way out of the darkness, but no matter how hard she tried, the oily, slithering darkness kept her at bay. Mars had offered to help, to combine his gifts with her, but there was no way she could put her friend in danger. This was her fight. The man was hers to save. It was as clear as the nose on her face.

Yep, if I only knew who he was, where he was, and how to help him…

She’d gone to the Rom Baro, the Leader of her Clan and Coven, but Bogdi had been stubborn and useless, pretty much the only way he knew how to be. Flatly refusing to help a gadjo, outsider, with a snort and a sneer followed by mocking laughter from his Council, the bastard had told Willa to go away. "Go see to your sisters," he jibed, his thick Romani accent ringing in her ears. "Mind your place, Girl. Do your chores and do not waste my time with your foolish talk.”

Had it not been for Mars grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the tent, Willa had no doubt she would be locked in a cave awaiting sentencing from the Council of Elders for telling Bogdi what she thought of his antiquated ideology and sexist attitude. Sure, he was pushing nine-hundred and something years old, but years alive meant nothing when it came to saving a life, and Willa knew that sooner or later the Rom Baro would need her help, her ability to see the past and the future and the strong magic she'd inherited from her father. Then she would have her say. She would tell him what an impotent old fool he was and spit right in his face.

It had been written in the Carte de Secrete, over two thousand years ago that a woman from the Petrescu Family would take her rightful place as the Head of the Clan. Willa’s mother, Vadoma, had read the same passage every night, kind of like a bedtime story but as more of a promise. “The day will come when Dragons once again soar in the skies above, the sun glittering off their scales, and fire brightening their path. They will usher in the beginning of great change, a new beginning for the Petrescu Family whose leader, the Valiant Protector shall take her rightful place as Queen and Ruler. She will lead the Family into the future, giving them hope for the future and a renewed purpose.”

Pushing Willa’s hair off her forehead, Vadoma kissed her daughter’s head before sitting back and smiling. “That is you, Willa, my brave mica printesa. Your papa may be in the Heavens, but you have his heart and his strength. Always remember that Iubirea mea. Never forget.”    

“What are you over there thinkin’ so hard about?” Mars’ hand squeezed hers, pulling her from the past, out of her memories, and back to the present. “You better tone it down before we get to the Curtain. You’re glowing like the neon lights at the Drive-In.”

Moving his hand to shift gears as he took a left, her best friend added, “One of those old dudes gets a whiff of you and we’ll have to fight our way out. They’ll be out for blood, power like yours would give them the leg up to kill Bogdi and claim the crown.”

“Maybe a little bloodshed is just what I need.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Theirs,” she barked with sarcastically sinister laughter as she raised her head and looked at the side of Mars’ face, before adding with a snicker, “We can’t let anything happen to that baby face of yours, now can we?” Reaching across the seat, she lightly pinched his cheek and added, “All the swooning little girls would just be devastated.”

Glancing her way and batting his impossibly long eyelashes over his lavender eyes, Mars quickly looked back at the road and snorted, “Oh stop, you’re makin’ me blush.”

Laughing together as they pulled up in front of the one and only bar within a hundred-miles where they could go without every Billy Bob, Jake and Hoss looking for a fight, Willa was out of the car and halfway up the steps before Mars had time to shut off the engine.

“In a hurry, Hotshot?” He teased at her back.

“Hell yes, I’m in a hurry. I need my brain to shut down and my nerves to calm and that calls for Jose, Jack, Jim, and all their friends.”

Pushing open the old saloon style doors and walking straight into a thick cloud of smoke, Willa’s eyes immediately adjusted, her hypersensitive sight kicking into gear as the heels of her well-worn boots hit the scuffed wooden floorboards with true purpose. A group of older Romani, men who’d known her parents, some who’d been close friends of her dad’s and had shown her step-father the way out of their Clan after kicking his ass, all raised their glasses and hollered her name.

“Hey there,” she called over her shoulder. “Y’all buyin’?”

Josef, the man who was like an uncle to her, had been her dad's best friend, and who when he'd seen her mother's black eye had grabbed her step-father by the throat and nearly killed him, yelled to the bartender, "Willa's drinks are on my tab. Give her whatever she wants and keep ‘em comin'."

Spinning on her heels, she curtsied deeply and bowed her head before standing back up and waving her hand. "Thanks, Joe. I gotcha next time."

Seeing him tip his chin as acknowledgment, she spun back around and had just wrapped her fingers around her first shot of Jack Daniels when Mars sidled up beside her and teased, "Starting without me? Isn't that a party foul?"

Throwing back her shot, loving the burn of the warm amber liquid coating her throat that stilled the voices and eased her tension, Willa slammed the shot glass down on the bar and nodded, “Probably, but I’ll have to owe you later.”

“Yeah, I’ll add it to your tab,” Mars chuckled before ordering a beer and pushing a stool into Willa’s backside then getting the one beside it for himself.

Drinking in companionable silence while the sounds of the bar floated all around them, Willa was just about to down her fifth shot when gnarled fingers appeared on her forearm and a haggard, old, black and rose carpetbag landed on top of the bar to her right. Turning to see who belonged to both, she could only gasp as she blinked to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating, already drunk, or both.

Grinning a toothless smirk, Raluca, the oldest of their Clan, a powerful vrăjitoare and a recluse who lived in a cave on the other side of the river, chuckled, “Happy to see me or think I’m a ghost?”

“Yes and yes?”

“Well, I’m not dead yet, so, let’s go with ‘you’re happy to see me’.”

Nodding because she couldn’t speak from the shock at seeing the one woman more powerful than she, Willa stared as the four-foot-nine-inch woman who was as wide as she was tall climbed onto the stool beside her and pulled out an antique flask. Unscrewing the lid, the harsh scent of Raluca’s personal ‘brew’ bit at Willa’s nose as the old woman took a long, deep swig.

Setting the silver and jeweled decanter on the bar, Raluca’s knotted fingers returned to Willa’s arm as the older Witch leaned in closer and with the index finger of her free hand motioned for the younger woman to do the same. Doing as she was told, knowing Raluca only appeared when she absolutely had to, Willa held her breath as the older woman whispered, “Tonight, when the light of the moon is hidden by the clouds and darkness falls over the land, you must go to the man in your visions. Only you can save him. Without you, he will die and the hopes of our people with him.”

Leaning back and taking another nip from her flask, Raluca added, “It is your Destiny, Willa Elizabeta. Your entire reason for being.”

“But, I don’t know where he is, who he is, or how to help him.”

Not waiting for Raluca’s answer, Willa swiveled her seat back to the front and downed the shot on the bar in front of her. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she turned back to ask the old Witch for more details only to find the stool empty and a necklace on the bar.

Picking up the heavy silver chain, Willa let the huge, teardrop-shaped ruby dangle in the air. Mesmerized by the dragon in flight etched within, Raluca’s words replayed in her mind.

My Destiny? Damn, seems to be a common thread here lately…

Looking closer, the image of the man from her dreams became superimposed over the gem, his face lax and his eyes closed in sleep. It was the most peaceful she'd ever seen him. Looking closely, she focused on his mouth, his cracked and bleeding lips barely noticeable through his matted, black beard.

Needing to hear what he was mumbling, diving farther and farther into the vision, Willa’s world began to spin. Her stool leaned backward. The tips of her fingers grazed the bar, trying to grab hold. Her feet flew into the air. Then with a bone-jarring thud, her ass hit the floor as she reached for the necklace hurdling through the air, gasping in awe as it evaporated into a tiny cloud of dragonflies that apparently only she could see.

Not ignoring Mars and Joe as they lifted her off the floor, asking if she was alright and fussing about, Willa was simply unable to speak, unable to believe what she’d heard, hardly able to breathe. Leaning on Mars’ arm to remain upright all she could do was listen as the man murmured, “Willa…Willa…Willa…”