Читать книгу Otherworld Protector - Jane Godman - Страница 12

Chapter 5

Watching Cal while he slept might actually be addictive, Stella decided. The sculpted perfection of his chest rose and fell in time with his rhythmic breathing. The skin of his neck, exposed to her gaze as his head rested against the plane window, was incredibly smooth, with a bronzed sheen that was just begging to be touched. Long eyelashes fanned his cheeks and his lips were slightly parted. Temptingly so. You are annoyed with him, remember? That doesn’t go away just because he happens to be gut-wrenchingly gorgeous.

Cal was her most enduring memory, the one true constant in her life. No one else had stuck around. She had convinced herself he was her guardian angel, had even—she blushed now at the memory—daydreamed about him falling in love with her. Yet he was undeniably prickly about the label. If he wasn’t an angel, who was he? Or perhaps the question should be what was he? One thing was for sure, he was definitely flesh and blood right now. And his human form was doing something utterly primeval to her nerve endings. Nevertheless, the puzzle of his identity had never been far from her mind since she had first seen him at the beach. Considering what had been going on in her life just lately, it was quite remarkable that Cal managed to occupy so much of her thoughts.

She wondered if she should be more distressed at the events of the past few days. But, if she accepted the reality of Cal—and, throughout her life she had not just accepted him, she had welcomed him—then she had to also acknowledge that there was a whole paranormal world out there that she didn’t understand. It was true that the manifestation of it all at once in the form of gargoyles and Valkyries and Cal taking on this delectable human form was unbelievable. But perhaps there was a reason for that. La Casa Oscura might be within some sort of magnetic field or something. She still couldn’t get her head around how Moncoya, one of the most famous men in the world, could also find time to be the king of the faeries. More important, from a basic survival point of view...

“What the hell has any of this got to do with me?” She addressed the question to the sleeping beauty next to her. Cal didn’t stir.

Grudgingly, she had accepted his explanation about the credit card. “I have no idea what’s going to happen with Moncoya so we need to be prepared for any eventuality. I have a number of cards all in different names. It’s not exactly legal in the mortal realm, but it’s a necessity in the face of what our faerie friend might throw at us.”

She hadn’t asked the most obvious question about what Moncoya might throw at them. She had a feeling she might find that out the hard way. Instead, she’d gone for another, equally important, question. “Is Cal your real name?”

A heartbeat, nothing more, before he had answered her. “Yes.”

She had shown no further qualms about using the credit card again when, having left the car in the airport parking lot, they had checked in at a desk thronged with weary-looking tourists. “Our flight leaves at two a.m. Come on.” Cal had grabbed her wrist. “We’ve got time to get you some new clothes.” The nonexistent Emrys Jones had paid hefty airport terminal prices for skinny black jeans, sneakers and a light blue sweater. Hoodie, tacky plastic shoes, shorts and tank top had all been dumped in a restroom bin. It was a reminder that everything she owned was back at La Casa Oscura.

Now Stella was crammed into the narrow seats of the economy flight, with Cal’s broad shoulders overlapping her personal space and his long legs bent at an awkward angle so that his knees pressed against hers. They were about half an hour from landing in England and he’d been asleep since takeoff. She prodded him sharply in the ribs and he opened one eye.

“Nice to see you remain alert and watchful at all times, Mr. Protector.”

He yawned and stretched. “It’s an act.” Stella raised a skeptical eyebrow and he grinned. “Well, I fooled you, didn’t I?”

Stella cast a sidelong glance at the youth who sat on her other side. He had on headphones and was engrossed in his handheld game throughout the flight. “Tell me about Moncoya.”

“Moncoya has ruled the faeries for several centuries. He was not in the direct line of succession, nor was there ever any expectation that he would inherit the title. His claim was tenuous at best. In fact his only qualification, at that time, was his ruthlessness. Moncoya and his sidhes infiltrated the residence of the former king during a celebration. In the middle of the night, when everyone was sleeping, they rose up and slaughtered any who did not support them, including the king. Until that time, violence was not the faerie way. The faeries were thrown into total disarray, and Moncoya took advantage of the ensuing chaos to impose his will on them. He has ruled by fear ever since.”

Stella made a winding motion with one finger. “Go back a bit. What is a sidhe?”

“If you picture the faeries as a nation, a bit like Britain, then there are many nationalities within it. The sidhes make up the majority of the population. They are the ‘little people’ of Celtic legend.” Stella thought of Moncoya, who was just above her own height. “They are endowed with incredible physical beauty and are able to coexist with humans. Traditionally faeries have had the ability to shape-shift, but Moncoya frowns on it as it doesn’t fit with his modernizing ideals. Although Moncoya was elevated to the faerie gentry when he took the throne, he is a sidhe and he surrounds himself with loyal fellow sidhes.”

“So the party people at La Casa Oscura...?” Stella supposed she already knew the answer.

“Sidhes. They are Moncoya’s bodyguards.”

“I don’t understand how he can be the Ezra Moncoya he is in this world and also be the faerie king. You don’t get to build up one of the greatest games empires in the world without putting the hours in. If he has to keep dashing off to rule his faerie empire in Otherworld, I just can’t see how he manages it.”

Cal grinned. “It’s called magic. And Moncoya has such an iron grip on the faeries, he has no real opposition to his rule. He also has a very powerful weapon at his disposal...his two consorts.”

“Isn’t a consort like a queen? Does that mean he has two wives?”

“No. In Moncoya’s case his consorts are his daughters. He has trained his twin daughters, Tanzi and Vashti, to be his most powerful weapons.”

“What I don’t understand is why, if he has all this power over the faeries, he would want a presence here. Why bother with the pretense of being mortal at all, let alone this sexy, high-profile celebrity persona Moncoya has deliberately cultivated?”

Cal turned his head and gazed out the window for a moment. The plane was beginning its descent and, looking past his profile, Stella could see the lights of the towns and villages below them. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and curiously regretful. “That’s where you come in, Stella.”

“Finally.”

Cal turned back to look at her. “When I spoke of the beings who exist just beyond mortal sight, and who reside in the realm of Otherworld, there is one I did not mention. This one does not always choose to dwell in Otherworld. He, or she, will be born mortal and may, therefore, walk this mortal realm unnoticed. This, the most powerful of them all, is a rare and usually solitary being, with the ability to weave the most intricate of spells. Creating light within darkness, animating the bodies of the dead and exerting absolute control over the spirit realm. This being has no need of legions or battles, not when, with a single incantation, every undead entity within Otherworld and beyond will bow before this being in abject submission.”

Something about the solemnity of his expression made Stella’s heart flutter alarmingly. She tried to hide her nervousness by keeping her tone light. “Who is this being?”

“I’m speaking of the sorcerer known as a necromancer.” When she evinced no surprise, a slight frown creased his brow. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Sure have. Level Eight skills set. Very difficult to achieve. A couple of the guys in my halls at university managed it, but they were real stay-up-all-night-gaming geeks.” She laughed at his expression. “And you have no idea what I’m talking about.”

The frown vanished and he smiled in a slightly bemused, and utterly adorable, manner. “I really don’t.”

“‘Crypt Wars,’” Stella explained. When Cal still looked uncomprehending, she elaborated further. “It’s a computer game. Pretty basic stuff. You progress through the levels in turn and take on different forms as you do. The higher the level, the more powerful the being. Necromancer was Level Eight, just above fire-breathing dragons and just below carnivorous skeletons.”

“I’m not going to go into just how flawed that hierarchy is right now, but let me assure you that necromancers do exist outside the world of computer games. And necromancy is a spectrum, ranging from low-level skills such as conversing with the deceased to complete control over the undead, as I have described.”

“They do? How cool is that?” Stella fastened her seat belt. All around them the businesslike bustle of the plane preparing to land continued regardless of their strange conversation.

“Quite cool, until you realize the lengths to which each of these leaders would go in order to get a necromancer on their side.”

Stella thought carefully about it. “Oh, I see. If the vampire prince you mentioned, for instance, had a necromancer on his side, he could have a spell cast that would render Moncoya powerless to harm him. Powerless to do anything much at all, in fact.”

Cal shook his head. “Not quite. Moncoya is not undead, having never actually been alive in the mortal sense of the word. So, although a necromancer could have some control over him, it would not be absolute. The spell would work the other way around, however. If Moncoya got his hands on a necromancer, he could exert total control over the vampires, phantoms and therianthropes—or were-creatures as they have become known—within Otherworld as well as some of the lesser undead. It would also be possible, if necessary, to summon the earthly dead from their graves and raise an army of corpses. If Moncoya could do all of this, his dream of ruling all Otherworld would be realized.”

“A corpse army? How horrid!” Stella wrinkled her nose. “You said necromancers are rare, so I’m guessing none of the warring factions currently have one working with them.”

“Correct. You already have a very astute grasp of Otherworld politics, Stella. My sources tell me that Moncoya has uncovered the identity of possibly the most powerful necromancer of all time. The arrival of this unparalleled sorcerer was predicted centuries ago by another great necromancer, one whose very name has become enshrined in legend.”

“Who was that?”

“You would know him by the name he took during his time on earth. At that time, he called himself Merlin.”

“Well, yes. As sorcerers go, they don’t come much more well-known than Merlin,” Stella conceded. “You said necromancers are mortal, yet you just said he took the name Merlin here on earth. That implies he wasn’t human.”

“That’s because he wasn’t. Merlin was a hybrid. He was born of a mortal mother and a nonmortal father.”

“And there is really someone around today who Merlin predicted would come along and be this all-powerful necromancer? That’s mind-blowing stuff. I’m surprised he’s managed to keep it quiet. You’d think the press would be all over him like a rash. Talk about celebrity status.” Stella leaned across him as she spoke to look out the plane window. They were close enough to the ground now to see the lights of the individual cars, although, given that it was now the early hours of the morning, they were few and far between.

Cal’s breath was warm on her cheek when he spoke. “The necromancer of the prophecy is not yet aware of his or her own powers.”

“If that’s the case, how does Moncoya know who it is?”

“Merlin’s prophecies are well-known, but often cryptic. This one is no different.” Cal quoted the words, like a child remembering lines from a play. “When the three-tailed comet returns to Iberia’s skies and the brightest star has seen five and twenty harvests, then he who claims the heart of the necromancer star will unite the delightful plain. During Merlin’s time, Otherworld was referred to by many names, one of which was ‘the delightful plain.’” He was watching her face closely.

“You’re right. That is a pretty vague prophecy.” She leaned back in her seat. Cal’s eyes seemed to bore into her and she frowned, trying to get a sense of what he was attempting to convey to her. Her mind was stubbornly refusing to process what was behind his words. Part of her—a really big part, the biggest imaginable part—didn’t want to do this next bit. The plane wheels touched down in the same instant that it hit her like a punch in the gut.

“Oh, no. No. No.” She shook her head to punctuate the increasingly emphatic words. “Stella means star... And I’m twenty-five? And the comet appeared when I arrived in Spain... Iberia? Come on, Cal, this is all too far-fetched for words.”

In the end, it wasn’t the fact that he didn’t try to persuade her or even the trace of pity in the silver depths of his eyes that struck the most fear into her heart. Those things no longer mattered. Not when, just as the plane taxied to a halt and the passengers began to unbuckle their seat belts, she looked again at the youth next to her.

He smiled directly at her and she was momentarily dazzled by the faun-like perfection of his features. His eyes were his most striking feature. Even greener than her own, the irises had an outer ring of pure gold. As the implication of his beauty dawned on her, she turned to Cal. He was staring over her head at the young man. In the merest blink of an eye later, she looked back again. Despite the fact that the plane doors were still closed and the aisle was filled with passengers waiting to disembark, the youth had gone.