Читать книгу Otherworld Protector - Jane Godman - Страница 12

Chapter 6

“I don’t understand how he could be there one second and gone the next.” Stella was almost running to keep up with Cal’s long strides, but he didn’t indulge her by slowing down.

“A sidhe can move faster than you can blink.”

“Can they also make themselves invisible?”

“No. It’s much more likely he shifted. He will have simply changed his form and become one of the other passengers. Someone you wouldn’t look at twice. The harassed-looking woman over there whose roots are showing or the grumpy old guy with the cane.”

They were walking briskly, weaving through the throng of people, following the signs to passport control. “What does it mean? Him being there...sitting next to me?” Even to her own ears, Stella’s voice sounded very small.

“It’s a message from Moncoya. He’s letting us know we can’t hide from him. Keep hold of my hand.” As he spoke, Cal’s eyes were scanning the crowd constantly.

“Believe me, I have absolutely no intention of letting go.” To prove it, Stella twined her fingers more tightly between his.

“Shit.” This comment was dragged from him as he assimilated the fact that all of the automated passport control machines were out of order. Three manned desks were open and long, slow-moving lines had formed at each. They joined the end of one of these.

“This must be a coincidence. Surely?” Where had that nervous flutter in her voice come from?

“Perhaps.”

As words went, that one was less than reassuring. Stella cast an anxious look around her. The room was a huge, high-ceilinged, impersonal square. Other people were pouring in behind them so going back the way they had come was not an option. The only exits were beyond the barriers at which passengers had to display their passports. Two uniformed police officers stood to one side of the desks, surveying the crowd of people. In the line for the desk to the right of theirs, four young men clad in colorful ponchos and hand-knit alpaca sweaters caught Stella’s eye. They all carried panpipes and looked like walking advertisements for the Peruvian tourist industry. On closer inspection, it seemed they had not fully embraced the Andean lifestyle, since each one of them wore a headset beneath his wide-brimmed leather hat.

The line shuffled slowly forward. Stella was aware of the tension in Cal’s whole body that was somehow managing to communicate itself to her through the clasp of his hand. Turning to look at the line to their left, she was briefly distracted by the antics of what appeared to be a bachelorette party. Clad in tiaras, tutus and—bizarrely—galoshes, the six women looked as though they had been partying hard for days. “Have I missed some hot new trend? What is it with the headsets?” Stella wondered, noting that the women in the bridal group were all wearing them under their tiaras. Cal, tightly wound with inner tension, didn’t respond.

As more passengers surged in from newly arrived planes and the room became even more crowded, they were increasingly jostled. Still holding Stella’s hand in one of his, Cal also drew her close, sliding his other arm about her shoulders so that she was pressed up against the hard muscle of his chest. In spite of the circumstances, Stella took a moment to enjoy the sensation. “No matter how chaotic it gets, don’t move away from me.”

Stella glanced up at him, at the taut muscles of his jaw and the rigidity around his eyes. Was he tired, or was there something more to it?

Just then the poncho-wearing group shimmied closer and one of the men caught Stella’s eye. As he did so, he spoke into his mouthpiece. Immediately, the other three men turned in her direction. They were all remarkable for one thing. Their good looks. She glanced across at the women in the bachelorette party. The disheveled, hungover look of minutes earlier was gone. Each one of them could have been a glamour model, except for one fact. They were all tiny.

“Er, Cal...”

“I know. It doesn’t matter what they do, stay in contact with me.”

“There are police officers over there.” Obediently, Stella pressed herself tighter against him. “Can’t we go to them and explain what’s going on?”

“Stella, have you ever met a police officer shorter than you?” He was right. She glanced across at the two police officers, and one of them gave her a friendly wave. He was so handsome he might have just stepped out of a trailer as the romantic lead in a film. Sadly, his lack of inches meant he was never going to get that sort of starring role. Panic settled somewhere between her chest and her abdomen, making breathing difficult.

“What can we do?” They were completely surrounded now.

“If you are indeed the star Moncoya seeks—and you are the only one who doubts it, by the way—you can help me get us out of this.”

“How?” Stella shuddered as one of the tutu-clad women came within inches of them. Her lips drew back, showing very small, perfectly even white teeth. The expression was somewhere between a smile and a snarl. The ring of fire around her irises blazed bright.

“We will be stronger together.” Cal’s voice, usually the softly spoken, masculine tones of her childhood imagination, sounded completely different. Now, it had become a rich baritone, full of fire and majesty, echoing around the soulless room and bringing an abrupt end to the impromptu party. Stella looked up at him and watched in fascination as the silver light in his eyes shone more brilliantly than ever. The glow in their depths would shame the purest moon beams on the darkest night. It must be her imagination—of course it was—but it was almost as if the concentrated beam from Cal’s gaze was brightening the room, shimmering and glistening on each object it touched.

From nowhere, her invisible friend, Cal, had been transformed into a commanding presence of mountain-shattering proportions. Without moving, or speaking, he was dominating everything around him, and the sidhes promptly abandoned any further attempt to disguise their identity. Hissing and showing their teeth, they drew back slightly. Beauty really is only skin-deep, Stella thought. She was surprised she could string a coherent thought together at all, let alone make it a flippant one. Other passengers, sensing the sudden change in mood, also began to distance themselves.

The air around the two of them seemed to thicken and quiver. Stella had the oddest feeling that, if she reached out a finger, she would encounter a springy resistance. It was like being encased in invisible Bubble Wrap. Stella and Cal were alone, surrounded by a circle of irate sidhes and a more distant ring of wary onlookers.

“We’re out of here. Nobody is going to stop us.” Cal spoke again, still in that incredible, Shakespearean voice. Keeping his arm around Stella so that she walked in step with him, he began to move toward the passport desk. Nobody did stop them.

“Majesty will come for his star,” one of the poncho-wearing sidhes, braver than his fellows, whined at them as they passed.

“Majesty can fuck off.”

A collective seething rasp rose up around them. “Galdre. Deófolwítga.” Memories came flooding back to Stella. It was the language of the monster under the bed.

They had reached the desk now. Stella looked nervously at the immigration officer, seated in his booth. She had a horrible fear he might be handsome enough to take her breath away. He wasn’t. He was middle-aged, balding and looked as if he wanted to be elsewhere. Probably tucked in his bed. He also seemed oblivious to the jittery atmosphere, merely gesturing through the thick glass panel for them to step forward.

“My girlfriend is feeling unwell. These people were good enough to let us come through before them,” Cal said, and Stella was relieved to hear his voice lower several tones and approach something like normality. He held his passport out to the official on the desk and gestured for Stella to do the same. “Thanks, guys.” He raised his hand in a friendly wave to the line of people behind them as they passed through the barrier. Gripping Stella’s hand hard, he marched toward the two sidhes dressed as police officers. They moved to block the exit.

Looking down at Stella’s worried expression, he grinned. “That was fun. Ready for the hard part?”

* * *

Confronting a couple of angry sidhes in a public place, with a crowd of Moncoya’s foot soldiers snapping at his heels, would not have been Cal’s first choice of ways to give Stella an introductory lesson in how to deal with the threat posed by the faeries. A quick glance around showed he had no choice. Despite the early hour, this was an international airport going about its business. There were so many people milling around that the chances of bystanders getting caught in the cross fire were high. Doubtless the sidhes were counting on that. Cal’s reputation for protecting the innocent was well-known. Moncoya had derided him for it often enough. All of Cal’s ingenuity as well as his powers were going to be needed if he was to get Stella out of this and away to safety while ensuring no one else got hurt.

Those thoughts took seconds to flash through his mind as he and Stella walked toward the exit. The two sidhe police officers remained in place, blocking their path. A family with young children was just behind them.

Cal was unconvinced about the concept of fate. He had met the three goddesses who sat at their spindles spinning the threads of human destiny. His opinion of their motives and effectiveness wasn’t high. Perhaps it was because they were condemned to a dull, lonely spinster’s life for all eternity, but, in his many centuries of experience, he had discovered that they enjoyed making mortals suffer. Cal was of the school of thought that believed people made their own destiny. It helped if, like him, one wasn’t mortal, in which case the influence of the goddesses was hugely reduced. At that precise moment, however, he could have kissed one, or even all three, of the ancient crones. Because, for once, they chose to intervene at exactly the right moment.

As Cal and Stella got within a few feet of the exit, the mechanized doors swung inward. This startled the two sidhes, who had been standing with their backs against the panels. One of them began to protest, but the words died on his lips as three real police officers strode into the hall and paused just inside, looking around. Cal could tell they were genuine law enforcement officers. For one thing they were as tall as him. And none of them could, by any stretch of the imagination, be described as pretty.

“...reports of a commotion down here,” one of the officers was saying to his companion. He barely glanced at the sidhes. “Probably nothing, but the sergeant wants it checked out.”

“Come on.” Not waiting to hear any more, Cal dragged Stella with him, past the police officers, through the doors and into the arrivals hall.

He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Freedom, and the opportunity to lose themselves on a bus or train or in a taxi, was just yards away. As they made their way past the crowds waiting at the luggage carousels, Cal could feel dozens of eyes following them. He was willing to bet that most of those eyes bore a fiery ring around the outer edge of their irises. Sure enough, as soon as he moved toward the set of doors that would lead them to the outside world, a crowd of passengers—each of them predictably short in stature—moved into place, barring their way.

Cal slowed in his stride, casting around himself for something—anything—that would help them escape. To one side of the arrivals hall there was an official motor cart. It had been hooked up to an electric charging station.

“What are you doing?” Stella cast a look over her shoulder. “They are coming through. We need to make a run for it or we’ll be surrounded.”

He threw a quick glance behind him and caught a glimpse of colorful ponchos and pink tutus. Hauling Stella with him, he made for the vehicle.

“Jump in.” Even though the look she gave him was one of pure horror, he was profoundly glad when she did as he asked. He unplugged the vehicle from its charging dock and squeezed into the seat next to her. His knees came up almost to his chin in the cramped space.

“You’re going to have to supercharge this thing to get it past that lot.” Her eyes were huge and very dark green as she nodded in the direction of the doors, where the sidhes were now converging, waiting for them. There were a few anticipatory grins cast their way.

“I knew you were a girl after my own heart.” Cal grinned down at her. “Hold tight.”

“Hold tight?” Her expression was incredulous. “You don’t seriously think this thing is going faster than we can walk, do you?”

Cal didn’t reply. Instead, he focused his attention on the connection his foot made with the cart’s pedal. Summoning all his supernatural energy—now was not the time to screw things up—he intoned slowly and forcefully, “Onettan. Swiftnes.” The machine lurched, its electrical engine whirring loudly. He exhaled a sigh of pure relief as it raced across the tiled floor, gathering speed as it went.

“Cal, did you just tell this thing to go fast?” The cart was practically flying now, its tires burning rubber as it hurtled toward the sidhes. Stella lurched against him in the confined space. “And—my God, I can’t believe I’m actually going to ask this—did it understand you?”

“No. It’s only working through me. If I take my foot off the pedal, it will go back to the way it was.” All around them, sidhes were diving out of the way of the speeding machine. “Once we’re through the doors, get ready to jump.”

The automatic doors opened as the luggage cart approached, and Cal had time to assimilate the surprised faces of several taxi drivers on the pavement as they charged through the gap and out into the open air.

“Now!” He dived off one side and saw Stella go the other way. The cart made a startled whirring noise and ground to a halt in the middle of the road, causing a minibus to swerve around it. Leaping to his feet, Cal grabbed Stella’s hand. “You okay?”

She nodded and they broke into a run. Cal decided that making for the train or bus station within the airport complex would be too dangerous. Better to get away from the area completely and find another way into the transport system.

The pavement sloped away from the airport building and they were close to a multistory parking ramp when the two sidhes disguised as police officers emerged from its entrance. Cal looked over his shoulder. If they turned back, the dozens of sidhes in the arrivals hall would be waiting for them.

He stopped. The sidhes were mere feet away. Twin smiles lit their fiery eyes. They took several steps closer.

Cal raised his hand. “Fýrwylm.”

Flames shot from his fingertips toward the sidhes, showering them with sparks. Their smiles disappeared and were replaced by wary looks.

“That the best you’ve got, galdre?” Although the sidhe licked his lips nervously, he took a step closer.

“No. He’s got me.” Stella placed her hand over Cal’s. “What do I need to do?”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, grinning down at Stella. “Think with me. Match your thoughts to mine.”

He could see the concentration on her face. Her brow furrowed with the effort. Then he felt it. A surge of power, like a jolt of electricity, pulsed through Cal’s body. This time when he raised his hand, together with Stella’s, the bolt from his fingertips resembled a flamethrower. He had known she would be strong, but this was beyond even his expectations.

“Fýrwylm.” Stella repeated the word he had used, and the flames burned even brighter. Muttering, the sidhes shrank back. “What language am I speaking?”

“Anglo-Saxon, the oldest form of the English language.” Cal led her forward, clearing their way by spreading a circle of fire ahead of them.

“How do you say bastard?”

Cal started to laugh. “It was the same word then that it is now. Or you can say dóc, which means illegitimate mongrel.” He didn’t add that he’d been called that himself a time or two over the centuries. Usually by Moncoya.

“Okay. Fýrwylm, you sidhe bastards.”

There were shouts now from the airport building and the sound of sirens. The two sidhe police officers had disappeared.

“Time to go.” Cal urged Stella into a run again. There was no way he wanted to have to explain what was going on to a genuine police officer.

“Did I really just do that?” Stella held her hand in front of her face, studying it as she ran.

“You did.” He looked back to see police cars and fire engines converging on the multistory parking ramp.

“What else can I do?”

“Let’s get away from here to somewhere safe. Then I can show you.” He smiled down at her, catching her hand and pulling her through a hedge into a field. “Or maybe you can show me.”