Читать книгу Otherworld Protector - Jane Godman - Страница 11

Chapter 4

Cal swore under his breath. He could hear voices from the lower floor, which meant he could go down there only if he was invisible. Invisibility meant he would not be unable to interact with Stella, which in turn meant he could not try to convince her of the danger she was in. Every minute she spent with Moncoya was enabling the faerie king to draw her deeper under his spell. Such was the power the so-called “little people” could wield when they chose. Not that Stella appeared to be in need of much persuasion. Helplessness was a new sensation for Cal. It was not one he relished.

It bothered him that she thought of him as her guardian angel, although, in many ways that was exactly what he had become. Not by choice, and there was certainly nothing angelic about him. His thoughts recoiled from the memories that had led him here. It didn’t matter how he had come to be in this role. Whatever label Stella gave him, his job was to protect her and he couldn’t do that if he stayed up here and couldn’t see what she was doing. Sighing, he followed her.

Cloaked by invisibility, he reached the foot of the stairs and cast a swift glance about the vast room. Stella was standing by the drinks machine, sipping water from a glass. There was no one else around and Cal frowned. He had definitely heard voices. A glance at the glass wall showed him that the panels were closed. Shadowy movement in the dusk beyond the terrace caught Cal’s gaze and he walked over to get a closer look. His attention was diverted as Moncoya entered behind him through the front door. Stella didn’t notice and the faerie king paused, eyeing her rear view appreciatively. Cal couldn’t really blame him. It was a particularly tempting sight.

Moncoya’s embroidered waistcoat hung open over a white dress shirt and he wore skintight black leggings tucked into glossy riding boots. His hair was tied back in a ponytail. Momentarily, Cal caught a glimpse of the yellow ring that lit his eyes. How could Stella not see that there was something fundamentally wrong about this guy?

“Buenas noches.” Moncoya strolled forward and Stella swung around to face him. Although she smiled, there was a touch of nervousness in her expression. Good. I’ve managed to plant at least a seed of doubt, Cal thought. “Something troubles you?” Moncoya’s eyes raked her face.

Stella shook her head. “It’s this heat.” She took another sip from her half-full glass and Moncoya observed the action through narrowed eyes. It was clear to Cal that Stella was uncomfortable. Moncoya, his faerie senses so closely attuned to the feelings of others, would certainly pick up on it.

“Sí, it is very warm. May I?” Moncoya stretched out a hand for the glass. Cal recalled, just in time, that a faerie could claim a mortal for its own by luring the person into sharing food or water. Before Stella could hand over the glass, Cal reached out an invisible hand and snatched it from her. It shattered on the tiled floor.

Stella’s exclamation of shock echoed in the vast space. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I came to be so clumsy.”

“Be careful.” Moncoya spoke mechanically. “Your feet are bare. You must move away from this area while I clear away the glass.”

Biting her lip in chagrin, Stella followed his instruction. Moncoya knelt to collect the shards of glass. He looked up and straight at Cal. Cal froze, even though there was no way Moncoya could possibly see him.

“So the little star has a protector. How sweet.” The ring around Moncoya’s azure eyes gleamed with red fire, the way his sidhe underlings’ eyes did when they skulked under Stella’s bed. His voice was low and feral. “I don’t know who you are, but I can guess who sent you. No matter. A little rivalry adds spice to the conquest.”

With that, he walked over to Stella and slipped a possessive arm about her waist. Cal was left watching in helpless rage as his charge turned an apologetic smile on the faerie king. He weighed his options. Go over and intervene? It would give him great pleasure to sink his fist into Moncoya’s smug face, but there was unforeseen danger in that sort of action. Naively, Cal had assumed he would be able to warn Stella of the danger and she would believe him. He had not envisioned a scenario where she refused to listen. If she went willingly to Moncoya—or any of the other warring factions—all would be lost. And he knew his stubborn charge all too well. If he went after Moncoya with his fists swinging, he could not predict Stella’s reaction. She might view Moncoya as the underdog. What if she decided to punish him by siding with Moncoya? It was a chance he couldn’t take. He had to get her to listen to him...or force Moncoya into revealing his true nature.

The movement in the garden drew Cal’s attention again. It had become more obvious now. It was as if the darkness itself was swirling up against the window, shifting and changing shape as it pressed against the glass. The voices he had heard earlier were clearer now. Soft and persuasive, they murmured an incantation. Another sound, like giant beating wings and distant hoofbeats, caught Cal’s straining ears. Stella appeared not to notice these out-of-place sounds. Moncoya, his hearing as finely tuned as Cal’s, looked up with a frown just as the first crack appeared in the giant wall of glass.

Cal faced a difficult choice. He couldn’t remain invisible and shield Stella with his body. Materializing was dangerous because Moncoya would see his face. He would know whom he was dealing with. But Cal’s first duty was to his charge. Those thoughts took a fraction of a second. Then he reacted like lightning. Materializing, he grabbed Stella by the hand and threw her—protesting loudly—down onto one of the oversize cushions as far from the window as possible. Before she could bounce back up again, he covered her body with his own.

He was just in time. The entire glass wall at the rear of the casa imploded, showering the room with shards of glass. Moncoya’s howl of fury rose above the sounds of mayhem as the shapes of the night poured into the room.

“Who dares approach Moncoya in his lair?”

“Lair?” Despite Cal’s efforts to keep her completely covered, Stella wriggled partially out from under him and turned her head to see what had happened. But Cal kept her pinned in place with one of his legs spread across her body. He knew her too well. If there was danger, his feisty charge was likely to throw herself right into the thick of it.

The amorphous mass of the darkness began to shift and three winged figures could now be seen within the quivering cloud. Although their features were indistinct, their figures were female and they were on horseback. Moncoya lifted his hands and the formless horses reared up as though in fright.

“What are they?” Stella’s breath was warm as it tickled Cal’s ear.

“Valkyries.” He answered her absentmindedly. His thoughts were occupied with escape, his eyes measuring the distance to the door. “Be ready to run when I give you the word.”

“You know why we come.” One of the Valkyries moved slightly ahead of the others. Her voice was compelling and echo-like. As the Valkyrie spoke, the shapes around her shifted as though straining to get closer into the room.

“Your audacity is beyond astounding. I have staked the first claim. She belongs to me.” The words were spoken in a booming voice that was totally unlike Moncoya’s usual subtle tones.

“You wrong us. We do not come for the star. Ours is the task of escorting the fallen.” Cal wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he thought the Valkyrie’s voice seemed to be fading.

“I will give you fallen aplenty. With her at my side, the conclusion to the battle will be swift and bloody, the outcome final. Otherworld will be mine.”

The Valkyrie’s horse lunged nervously as, laughing, Moncoya took a step forward. He raised his hands again and the dark cloud changed, becoming a swirling smoke cloud before gradually dispersing. In its place, as if by magic, Moncoya’s party friends began to pour in through the gaping wall. Laughter and music filled the room as they danced across a floor somehow miraculously clear now of glass and debris. The change in atmosphere brought even more theater to the scene.

“Now,” Cal urged and, to his relief, Stella leaped to her feet and kept pace with him as he ran for the door. As they burst through and into the night air beyond, he grabbed her hand, hauling her to the parked vehicles. Selecting the largest and most powerful of the motorbikes, he swung himself onto it, gesturing for Stella to get up behind him. She obeyed, clasping her arms tightly around his waist and pressing her cheek into his back.

“Can you start it?”

He fished the keys out of his pocket. “It’s mine.”

The engine roared to life and they screeched out of the drive just as the door of the casa flew open.

“I’m so glad I’ve got you for my guardian angel,” Stella yelled as, both barefoot and clad in shorts, they streaked down the hill into the busy city streets.

“Who told you I was an angel?” Cal shouted back over his shoulder, cutting across a stream of traffic.

* * *

“Can we talk about this on the way? Because I for one would like to put as much distance between us and Moncoya as I can.” Cal was throwing clothing into a suitcase while Stella sat curled up in a chair in his hotel room, watching him. Despite the heat, she was clad in one of his hoodies. The sleeves were rolled back and, when she stood up, it hung almost to her knees. Her feet were still bare.

“Talk while you pack. You can start by telling me about Otherworld.”

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Otherworld is a realm inhabited by supernatural beings. It exists alongside the world of the living, but is invisible to most humans. The intrusion of the Otherworld into this one does take place, but, when that happens, it is mainly unobtrusive and harmless.”

“Are you talking about ghosts?”

“Ghosts are the most common manifestation of an overlap between Otherworld and the world of the living, yes. But ghosts are not the only beings to inhabit Otherworld. If they were, my job would be much easier. Ghosts are generally not aggressive, although there are breakaway groups within their numbers, notably banshees and poltergeists. The Ghost Lord is not one of those leaders who seeks to take control of the whole realm of Otherworld.” Cal snapped the suitcase shut and looked around, checking the room to make sure he had collected all of his belongings. “Let’s go.” He glanced down at her feet. “We’ll get you some shoes on the way.”

Stella followed him out of the room. “It sounds complicated.”

“Tell me about it. Just as this world has its different countries and races and religions, so Otherworld has its own dynasties. It is not a physical realm, but it is as fiercely fought. Debates rage as furiously there as they do here. Battles are as bloody, if not more so. The difference is that the weapons used are deadlier and the methods employed are more ruthless. It is my task to ensure that the war for Otherworld does not spill over into the world of the living.”

“Sounds like a hell of a big job for one man.” Where in all of this do you find the time to babysit me? And why? Stella massaged her temples, trying to get rid of the ache that was forming there.

Cal chucked the suitcase into the trunk of a particularly nondescript car, and then held the passenger door open for Stella. She slid inside. It had not once occurred to her not to go with him. Her every instinct cried out that he was her only hope. Against what, she had no idea.

“Car. Bike. You must have known we would have to make a quick getaway,” she said as Cal started the car.

“I know Moncoya.”

Stella shivered. She wasn’t ready for that conversation. “Who are the aggressors in Otherworld?”

The city traffic was heavy and Cal joined a line of cars heading for the suburbs. “It changes over time, with different dynasties fading in and out of prominence. The vampires are always at the forefront of any conflict. Their prince has caused us problems on and off for the past few millennia. Rage is the most powerful underlying motivator for the vampires.” He grinned down at her stunned expression. “Makes them bloody difficult to negotiate with, I can tell you.”

Stella swallowed the obstruction in her throat. “You mean proper vampires? The full-on, bloodsucking kind?”

“Is there another kind?”

“But you just said that the overlap between Otherworld and this world is harmless. If vampires are real and they drop in and out to feast on human blood, I wouldn’t exactly say they do us no harm,” she argued.

Cal appeared to give it some thought. “I see what you mean. They do harm those individuals they feed on and ultimately transform into new vampires, that much is true. In the grand scheme of things, their proclivities don’t fundamentally change the earthly realm. It’s something vampires have always done. It’s a bit of a nuisance, especially when we get a high-profile case that has to be covered up. It doesn’t change the status quo, however, so there’s no real damage done.”

Stella covered her mouth with one shaking hand, regarding his profile with eyes that were wide with shock. As he drew up at a red light, Cal turned and returned her gaze with a question in his eyes. When she lowered her hand, her lips trembled on something that was an attempt at a smile. “A bit of a nuisance? Cal, what the hell is happening here? And why am I part of this Otherworld madness?”

* * *

Cal’s eyes ached. Neon advertising signs, overhead lights and the relentless stream of headlights coming in the opposite direction had taken their toll. It was only just over an hour since they had left Barcelona, but his intense concentration on the road and who or what might be following made it feel as if he had been driving forever. Squinting slightly as he read the road signs, he was relieved to see that they were approaching the city of Girona.

“Tell me again why we couldn’t get a flight from Barcelona Airport?” Stella spoke for the first time since they had left the shopping center on the outskirts of the city, where they had stopped to get fuel and the cheap plastic sandals that now encased her feet. Cal had managed to avoid the question about how she came to be involved in the Otherworld uprising by claiming it was a complicated story and he needed to concentrate on getting them to safety. Stella had huffed at him, but accepted his admittedly pathetic excuse. He wondered now if she really wanted to hear the answer. Sooner or later, it was a conversation they would have to have. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Bloody Valkyries. What had possessed them to get involved before there had even been any fighting? Their job was to gather up the fallen, not come storming in causing havoc before the first blow had been struck. But these were strange times. Ever since the three-tailed comet had first appeared two months ago, tensions in Otherworld—always heightened—had fizzed to the surface like champagne bubbles pressing at a cork.

“They will expect us to go to the main airport. It’s the first place they’ll look. Hopefully, by the time they think of the smaller airport at Girona, we’ll be out of here.”

Stella mouthed the word they to herself but said no more. He was worried about her. It was a feeling that went beyond the obvious concerns for her safety. She looked very small and lost in his well-worn hoodie. Cal experienced an overpowering, urgent desire to reach out a hand and touch her. To smooth the spikes of her hair into place or stroke her cheek. Determinedly he kept both hands on the wheel and fixed his gaze back on the road. Forced himself to remember that he was a protector, not a nursemaid or something more intimate.

The gargoyle had been an interesting, although not entirely unexpected, diversion. Gargoyles were generally solitary creatures. Nevertheless, Cal very much doubted that the one that had descended in such a cumbersome manner into Moncoya’s garden had arrived there on its own behalf. Gargoyles were not noted for their mental agility so it was highly unlikely the creature itself had been responsible for planning the offensive. A mind more cunning than that of a grotesque figure that spent its days crouching on the side of a church had thought up that little scheme. Because, even without Cal’s intervention, the lone gargoyle had never stood a chance against the might of Moncoya. Which meant it had probably been sent simply to discover if Stella actually was at La Casa Oscura. If it had found her alone and succeeded in snatching her while it was there...well, that would have been a nice bonus for whoever sent it. So who had commissioned a gargoyle to enter Moncoya’s lair on a reconnaissance mission? There were, as Cal had already said to Stella, a number of possibilities. None of them was pretty.

The arrival of the Valkyries had overset his plans in a way that the gargoyle had not. The Valkyries were not warriors, they didn’t take sides. Their disorientation signaled that the powers at work were more sinister and disruptive than anything even Cal had encountered before. He couldn’t have left Stella in the middle of the mayhem that had been taking place back at La Casa Oscura. And yet, wasn’t that exactly what was meant to happen? Wasn’t it her destiny to be launched into the midst of the uprising at this point in time? No. He shook his head. He knew now that the forces gathering were greater and more volatile than he had anticipated. Something had changed. Therefore he had to alter his plans accordingly. The confrontation would come, that part of the prophecy was inevitable. And Stella would be part of it. That too had been foretold. My job is to equip her for what lies ahead. It was bad enough when I knew what she was facing. I cannot allow her to go into this new unknown without preparing her. And this change of plan would have nothing to do with how you felt when Moncoya put his hands on her? He ignored the insidious little voice in his head as he followed the road signs for the airport.

“Where are we now?” Stella shifted in her seat and blinked at the unprepossessing view of industrial units in the darkness beyond the window.

“Approaching Girona. I need you to get on the internet and book us on the next plane to England.”

She bit her lip. “This is a bit embarrassing, but I haven’t got any money.”

He threw a quick grin in her direction. “I know. You never do. Reach over and get my jacket off the backseat. There’s a credit card in my wallet.”

“Angels with credit cards, what next?” Stella wriggled around until she’d retrieved his jacket. “Oh, I forgot. You get all antsy when I call you an angel.”

Cal was conscious of her scanning his profile in the close confines of the car but he deliberately didn’t respond to either her words or her scrutiny. After a shrug, Stella busied herself with her phone. “We’re in luck. There’s a flight to Manchester in three hours and they have seats available. Oh, and when we get on that plane, Cal—” her voice was restored to something approaching its normal tone “—I have one or two questions to ask you.”

“It might be best to save the conversation for somewhere more private.” There you go putting it off. She has to know. You can’t protect her forever from what she is.

“You might be right. But the question you can start with right now is why the bloody hell I’ve just paid for our fares using a credit card belonging to someone called Emrys Jones?”