Rise for Me

PROLOGUE

Slivers of wood dropped onto the grass, creating a halo of cedar shavings against the green. Tree branches swayed over his head from the approaching storm, but still Roman Lee continued to work the block of wood with a simple carving knife. The leathery gray image of an elephant hovered in his mind as he transformed the cedar. The spicey scent filled his nostrils with each inhale and, with it, some semblance of serenity.

His fingers paused when thunder rumbled, and his gaze lifted momentarily, only to witness a white flash still too far off to cause concern. The carnival would close long before the storm ever reached it.

The sharp blade slid into the wood again with sure and steady strokes until a small wooden elephant finally rested in his palm. He turned it back and forth, satisfied with the craftsmanship, and placed it in a box next to his chair, along with several others he’d completed. Why he enjoyed woodcarving so much was a mystery, but it helped pass the time in his immortal life.

A feminine squeal interrupted his thoughts, and his eyes narrowed on one of the game booths. A teenage girl jumped up and down when her boyfriend won the dart game and handed her an enormous pink unicorn.

Roman studied the couple as they left the booth, hand in hand. Emotion clogged his throat for the one thing he’d never have, but it was short-lived when the sound of harsh words reached his sensitive ears. The pointed tip of the knife stuck in the ground, and he slowly rose from his seat beneath the tree. The shadows concealed his form, so no one knew he lingered there or that the ringmaster missed no detail.

He silently slid among the buildings, following the voices until he reached the clearing close to the caravan wagons. He paused in the shadows, watching two men take turns rummaging through each caravan and return with anything of value. The corners of his lips lifted in a snarl as sharp fangs slid from his gums to rest against his lower lip. The Romani had little in the way of material possessions and even less money.

He lifted his face to the crescent moon and rolled his shoulders before striking hard and fast, drinking his fill, and using glamor to force the two men to forget the entire incident. While the thieves staggered into the open field, he replaced the things they’d stolen with care.

Once finished, he returned to his concealed spot beneath the tree and grabbed another block of wood as if nothing had happened. With his hunger sated, and the thieves sent on their way, he tipped his chair back against the bark with a deep sigh.

Bright lights lit the carnival, children played, and couples strolled by, but none knew a predator watched for the slightest hint of trouble. The employees all did their jobs with smiles on their faces and seemed to enjoy their lives, unaware of what had transpired.

His thoughts turned to homeland, imaging the lush mountains of Romania where his parents sought eternal rest before he left for this new land. Only his sister accompanied him on a quest for a better life for the Romani and a place where their lack of aging wasn’t noticed.

A frown crossed his lips. Although his people were safe, loneliness filled his life. In the two hundred years he’d walked this earth, there was no one for him. He glanced once more at the approaching storm before dropping his gaze to the block of wood he still held in his hand. He grabbed his knife from where it stuck in the grass and slid it across the wood, imagining the woman meant for him. High cheekbones, full lips, and almond-shaped eyes formed while he chiseled her perfect features into the wood.

Roman scoffed at himself when he finished. A stranger stared back at him with no eye color or name. She was an illusion, a figment of his imagination. This woman didn’t exist, although he waited and hoped for her. Disgusted with himself, he tossed it in the box with the others. There was no mate for him.

“Hi.”

His eyes slowly lifted to an adorable blonde child with pigtails, wondering how she saw him when no one else noticed. “Hello. Where’s your parents? Are you lost?”

“I’m hiding.”

“Hiding from whom?” Roman asked. “Your friends?”

“I don’t have friends.” The little girl glanced over her shoulder. “Them,” she said, pointing to a group of children her age. “I’m hiding from them. They threw rocks at me and called me a freak because of my face.”

He hadn’t missed the birthmark on her cheek under her right eye. “You’re not a freak.”

“Don’t you see it?” she questioned, leaning forward.

“See what?”

“My birthmark. Daddy says God will take it away, but he hasn’t.”

“Why would you want it taken away? It makes you unique.”

Her cherub face tilted. “What’s unique?”

“Different and special. We all have something unique about us.”

The little girl frowned. “My name is Mariah. Can I stay with you?”

Roman chuckled, reaching for the little elephant he carved. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“Mariah!” a woman’s voice yelled.

“That’s my mom,” the little girl whispered.

“She’s worried about you, Mariah.”

“Why are you here by yourself?”

Roman’s eyes drifted to the twinkling lights of the carnival. “I’m different like you. Now, let me walk you to your mother.”

Mariah smiled. “Okay.”

“And here’s a gift from the ringmaster,” he said, offering the wooden elephant. “Whenever someone calls you a bad name, remember you have a friend in the carnival.”