The Lost Souls (The Holy Trinity #2.5)(17)

David, who was now staring daggers at Tyler, had spent the following weeks cursing and moping over their couple status, only furthering Hockey’s suspicions that the man could eventually prove to be dangerous.

Chris, too, was jealous, but hadn’t done much more than make suggestive and lewd comments, yet Hockey could sense the jealousy.

Hockey remembered being seventeen, wanting nothing more than to be inside a fat?, but he had curbed his baser needs with hard work and prayer. Chris had been raised differently than him. This boy was spoiled, moody, and rebellious. He’d had everything given to him on a silver platter and, despite the current state of the world, still felt himself every bit as entitled.

Chris’s attitude made Hockey thankful that he’d grown up as he had—hardworking and with a love and deep respect of the land. He appreciated his family and his clan, and their reasons for continuing the traditions of their people by staying in touch with nature and valuing all that was given to them. If they hadn’t, if they’d succumbed to Western civilization, to the ways of the Gaje society, they would have lost their magic years ago.

Hockey smiled to himself as one of Maisera Popa’s many fireside stories echoed inside his head.



“Once upon a time, all of mankind possessed the ability to wield nature’s elements. But like most Gajes nowadays, having this power wasn’t enough for some. They thought they were entitled to more, and they wanted the ability to control everything around them, not just nature but animals and people.

“Out of greed, they used the elements to create a much darker and infinitely more powerful version of magic, manipulating what was good and natural into a more twisted version of its former self. A darker version.

“Kings were born from the darkness.

“Totalitarianism.

“Slavery.

“Hatred.

“And the sickness only continued to spread. Men became monsters, jealous and cruel, greedy and lustful, and because of it, Nature took back her gifts.

“But it was too late. The world had already been forever changed.

“A small group of people had managed to escape this new way of life. They came from all over the world, and together built a life away from the madness around them. They refused to bow down to any king or ruler and instead kept true to nature, holding honesty and respect above all else, and in turn they were able to keep their magic.

“Eventually, after enough time had passed, the outside world had forgotten magic altogether and began to fear that which they didn’t understand.

“The ones who had run, their families became hated, known as tramps, vagabonds, and thieves.

“They were used as scapegoats and accused of crimes they hadn’t committed.

“Persecuted.

“Hunted.

“Killed.

“They were slaughtered by the thousands.

“So they continued to run, never staying too long in one place, never trusting anyone who wasn’t part of their clans.

“And so…the Gypsy was born.”



Taking a deep breath, Hockey flipped up the bill of his Blackhawks hat and met Tyler’s sad gaze. It was obvious what Rachael’s true purpose in the man’s life was. She was a fill-in, a way to ease the grief and loneliness. Hockey knew this because the faraway, broken look on Tyler’s face mirrored what he felt inside. The man missed his family, still loved his wife, and would leave Rachael in a heartbeat if it meant he could have it all back.

Feeling the bone-deep loneliness he’d been living with rear up inside him despite trying to keep it at bay, Hockey tossed what was left of his spitfire rat into the barrel fire and got to his feet.

Misery did not like company. At least, in his case it didn’t.

“Night,” Rachael called out.

“Hockey!” Mira shouted, jogging up behind him.

He stopped and turned. “Don’t leave me alone with them,” she whispered loudly, fighting a smile.

Amused, he shook his head and held out his arm. Skipping forward, she slipped underneath his arm and settled into the crook of his elbow. Together, they headed to his bedroll. Not only was it freezing, but he didn’t blame Mira for not wanting to be around David or Chris. And as much as he hated to admit it, the warmth from her body made it easier for him to sleep through the bitter cold nights.

Under the covers, Mira coiled around him. Hockey buried his face in her hair that smelled faintly of smoke, and held her close. She smelled strongly of body odor, faintly of urine and bonfire, but underneath it all, she smelled like a woman.

And no man could deny that sleeping beside a woman wasn’t infinitely preferable to sleeping alone.





Chapter Ten


Nico was overreacting. He knew he was and yet he was helpless to stop it. But damn it, Tobar-motherf*cking-Popa was sitting on his couch, next to his wife, holding his daughter. And she was his daughter because it wasn’t Tobar who woke up in the middle of the night, every night, and undressed a snoring Becki, freeing a breast to feed the kid. It wasn’t Tobar who rocked her in his arms for hours on end, keeping her warm, and it wasn’t Tobar who changed her many, many shit-filled diapers. No, that wasn’t Tobar, that was him.

But it was Tobar who was currently getting her little coos and smiles, and it was Tobar who was seated so close to Becki that both their arms and legs were touching. And it was Tobar who was going to get his face pounded into the corner of the counter— “Frate,” Xan said, elbowing him.