said.
When she saw how the group was waiting for her to start the background talk, she added, “So I should perhaps tell you about myself first?”
“Enlighten away,” Kiko said, spreading out an arm, just like he was the prince of sarcasm lounging on a throne.
Natalia didn’t react. “Then I’ll begin by saying that I arrived in London from Bucharest two months ago.”
The accent. Dawn’s untrained ear had been right about vaguely linking it with Costin’s; he hailed from the Wallachian region.
“Romania joined the European Union recently,” Natalia continued, “and we can freely come to places such as England now. So I did. I’m a legal immigrant, with university education in business. But I’m not Roma.”
Her smile grew strained, as if she were ready for a barrage of insults.
“Roma?” Frank asked. “You mean ‘gypsies’?”
“‘Roma’ is probably more politically correct,” Dawn said, hardly believing she was up on what was “in” and “out” in polite society.
Natalia’s smile remained in place. “No matter what name is used, popular opinion holds that crime rates have been on the rise in this area since more Roma immigrated here.”
“I guess,” Dawn said, “‘Roma’ equals trouble to a lot of people, and that’s why you’re telling us outright that you’re not one of them?”
“Yes.” Natalia absently toyed with a plastic button on her dress. It looked loose. “Many of them have taken to begging, trading on the street, doing odd jobs. Some resort to petty crime like picking pockets, and a great deal of the public thinks that any Romanian is Romani.”
Kiko had inched back in his chair. He knew when to play “bad cop” and when to cool it. But he still looked like he was biding his time.
Frank asked, “What brought you over here?”
Her shoulders lost some of their defensive stiffness. “I have distant family in Slough. Besides, the London I read about in books always appealed to me: the museums, the history, the opportunity. I felt the same lure for America, and I once spent a time in New York, caring for an old aunt. But she passed on, and there’s no one there for me now.”
“That’s why you know English real good,” Frank added.
Natalia smiled at his affable tone, probably knowing he was trying hard to balance out Kiko’s vinegar.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Frank.”
“Just Frank.” He motioned toward the team. “Same with all of us—first names only. Right, Kiko?”
“Oh, she already has a pet name for me, Frank. Or didn’t you notice?”
Ignoring him, Natalia’s body language seemed more fluid and relaxed now.
That is, until Kiko asked, “So did you suddenly become psychic one day or what?”
“No.” She fiddled with her dress button again. “As long as I can recall, I’ve heard the dead. But I learned to filter the input. The same applies to my precognitive visions.”
“You’ve always had those, too?” Dawn asked.
“Actually, the visions first came when I was an adolescent. But my parents told me never to speak of my gifts. They didn’t want me to be ‘different.’ They thought my talents were ‘Romani,’ and they didn’t want me to be looked upon or treated in the same way the group is treated in Romania . . . or anywhere else, really.” Natalia frowned. “In private, I still listened to the whispers and watched the visions. The first time I heard one of them, it was from behind a door in my apartment building. A neighbor had died, and she told me her husband . . .”
Natalia looked around at the team, then laughed when she no doubt realized she couldn’t shock them with this story. Hell, they had a boss who spoke from a carved angel’s mouth.
She continued. “My neighbor told me that her recently departed husband had come back as a revenant. Evidently, he blamed her for his heart attack. She never said why.”
“Revenants,” Kiko muttered. “Is that what you call a vampire?”
“From what my neighbor
When she saw how the group was waiting for her to start the background talk, she added, “So I should perhaps tell you about myself first?”
“Enlighten away,” Kiko said, spreading out an arm, just like he was the prince of sarcasm lounging on a throne.
Natalia didn’t react. “Then I’ll begin by saying that I arrived in London from Bucharest two months ago.”
The accent. Dawn’s untrained ear had been right about vaguely linking it with Costin’s; he hailed from the Wallachian region.
“Romania joined the European Union recently,” Natalia continued, “and we can freely come to places such as England now. So I did. I’m a legal immigrant, with university education in business. But I’m not Roma.”
Her smile grew strained, as if she were ready for a barrage of insults.
“Roma?” Frank asked. “You mean ‘gypsies’?”
“‘Roma’ is probably more politically correct,” Dawn said, hardly believing she was up on what was “in” and “out” in polite society.
Natalia’s smile remained in place. “No matter what name is used, popular opinion holds that crime rates have been on the rise in this area since more Roma immigrated here.”
“I guess,” Dawn said, “‘Roma’ equals trouble to a lot of people, and that’s why you’re telling us outright that you’re not one of them?”
“Yes.” Natalia absently toyed with a plastic button on her dress. It looked loose. “Many of them have taken to begging, trading on the street, doing odd jobs. Some resort to petty crime like picking pockets, and a great deal of the public thinks that any Romanian is Romani.”
Kiko had inched back in his chair. He knew when to play “bad cop” and when to cool it. But he still looked like he was biding his time.
Frank asked, “What brought you over here?”
Her shoulders lost some of their defensive stiffness. “I have distant family in Slough. Besides, the London I read about in books always appealed to me: the museums, the history, the opportunity. I felt the same lure for America, and I once spent a time in New York, caring for an old aunt. But she passed on, and there’s no one there for me now.”
“That’s why you know English real good,” Frank added.
Natalia smiled at his affable tone, probably knowing he was trying hard to balance out Kiko’s vinegar.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Frank.”
“Just Frank.” He motioned toward the team. “Same with all of us—first names only. Right, Kiko?”
“Oh, she already has a pet name for me, Frank. Or didn’t you notice?”
Ignoring him, Natalia’s body language seemed more fluid and relaxed now.
That is, until Kiko asked, “So did you suddenly become psychic one day or what?”
“No.” She fiddled with her dress button again. “As long as I can recall, I’ve heard the dead. But I learned to filter the input. The same applies to my precognitive visions.”
“You’ve always had those, too?” Dawn asked.
“Actually, the visions first came when I was an adolescent. But my parents told me never to speak of my gifts. They didn’t want me to be ‘different.’ They thought my talents were ‘Romani,’ and they didn’t want me to be looked upon or treated in the same way the group is treated in Romania . . . or anywhere else, really.” Natalia frowned. “In private, I still listened to the whispers and watched the visions. The first time I heard one of them, it was from behind a door in my apartment building. A neighbor had died, and she told me her husband . . .”
Natalia looked around at the team, then laughed when she no doubt realized she couldn’t shock them with this story. Hell, they had a boss who spoke from a carved angel’s mouth.
She continued. “My neighbor told me that her recently departed husband had come back as a revenant. Evidently, he blamed her for his heart attack. She never said why.”
“Revenants,” Kiko muttered. “Is that what you call a vampire?”
“From what my neighbor
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