Читать книгу Otherworld Renegade - Jane Godman - Страница 9

Chapter 3

Tanzi came awake slowly, blinking as she took in the shabby, vaguely familiar surroundings. Consciousness wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. She was in the safe house. Safe. That was the essential word. Her head still ached. Her knees, face and ribs were a rainbow of bruises, but at least Moncoya couldn’t get to her here.

It must have been very early because the room was semidark and there were no noises, voices or footsteps echoing around the rambling house. She yawned, turned and stifled the startled cry that rose to her lips as her gaze took in a pair of long, denim-clad legs stretched out in the chair near the window. The lower body was all she could see. Whoever it was had fallen asleep with his upper half in shadow. It was definitely a he. She did a double check, and the larger-than-average bulge in the crotch of his jeans confirmed it. A blush burned her cheeks. When there is an unknown man in your room, does size matter?

But I locked that door. I know I did! Carefully, she felt under the pillow for confirmation. There was the key. Next to it was the carving knife she had stolen from Maria’s kitchen drawer on her first night in the safe house. Her hand closed gratefully around the handle. Wincing as the movement triggered a sharp pain in her injured side, she slid stealthily from the bed with the knife extended in front of her. The only time in her life Tanzi had been caught unawares was in that alley two days ago. It would never happen again. This intruder was going to wish he had finished the job when he first broke in instead of taking time out for a nap. The thought jolted her. If he intended to harm her, why had he fallen asleep?

She paused, inches from him, trying to get a look at his face. Hesitation. Bad mistake, Tanzi. She could hear the words spoken in the voice of the Valkyrie mentor her father had employed to train his daughters. The intruder’s hand snaked out and caught Tanzi by the wrist. There was a blur of movement and he was on his feet, his body colliding hard with hers. The knife went spinning across the room. With her weapon gone and her opponent so much taller than her, Tanzi resorted to street-fighting tactics. Keeping her head low, she aimed for his eyes with her nails, missed and pulled out a chunk of his hair instead. When he grunted in pain and responded by pinning her arms at her sides, she attempted to knee him in the groin.

Within seconds, it was all over. With no very clear idea of what had happened, Tanzi was sprawled on her back on the bed with her opponent straddling her and pinning her hands above her head.

“Considering you’ve been going around telling everyone how much you need me, this is not quite the welcome I was expecting.”

The words, and the Irish accent, acted like a spell on Tanzi and she stopped struggling. Following his naked, muscular torso upward, her gaze encountered the very pair of smiling blue eyes she had been seeking. Lorcan studied her face, his head on one side. There was a flash of something in his eyes that she had never seen before. It drove the laughter away, replacing it with a cold, hard fury that made her shiver.

“Christ, Tanzi, you look like shit.”

“So do you.”

It was true. His good looks always had a dangerous edge to them, as if he should be a bad-boy rock star or a Byronic hell-raiser. Today he was taking the cynical, world-weary look to extremes. His eyes were bloodshot, his chiseled jawline darkened with stubble. He didn’t even bother to brush away the characteristic flop of dark blond hair from his brow. Clearly deciding she was no longer a danger to him, Lorcan risked letting her go and moved to sit on the side of the bed.

“I haven’t slept in—” he paused and clearly had to think about it “—two nights.”

“So why did you break in here and sleep in the chair?”

A corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “You were in my bed.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Your need was greater than mine.”

Tanzi felt at a disadvantage lying down. She was also conscious that she was wearing nothing but her underwear and a very old, faded T-shirt that Maria had unearthed for her. She shuffled into a sitting position, wincing as the movement caused more pain in her ribs.

“Did I hurt you?” Lorcan’s tone was apologetic.

“Yes. But I was going to kill you so I suppose it can be forgiven.”

He started to laugh. “Always so literal. Why are you here, Tanzi?”

“Pedro and Maria gave me this room.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. Tell me why I shouldn’t immediately suspect this is one of your father’s tricks to infiltrate the resistance.”

She fiddled with a loose thread on the bottom of the T-shirt. It meant she could keep her head down and avoid looking at him. “On the battlefield that day, when you rescued me, you made me a promise. That you would be there for me if I needed you.” Suddenly the words were hard to say. Why hadn’t she anticipated this? She took a deep breath and looked up. Lorcan’s steady blue eyes gave her the confidence she sought. “I need you now.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Then you have me. I’m all yours.”

An emotion she had never felt before tugged hard at Tanzi’s chest. Was it gratitude? Tenderness? Empathy? They were all new to her. Moncoya discouraged mortal emotion, particularly where his daughters were concerned. Tanzi and Vashti were his finely tuned weapons. Their hearts should be encased in steel. It was an odd sensation to discover that her own steel casing might have a flaw. Tanzi’s voice was husky when she spoke again. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“If you want me to know, I expect you’ll tell me in your own time.” Lorcan stretched his arms above his head. “Right now, if I don’t shower and then get some breakfast, I’ll be no use to you or anyone.”

* * *

The square was crowded with students. Competing music blared from open dormitory windows and from the bars around the outer edge. Lorcan skirted around skateboarders, impromptu dancers and chattering groups, carrying beer and pizza to where Tanzi was sitting on the steps of the university building waiting for him. She wore leggings and a sweatshirt that was at least three sizes too big. Her hair was tied back and hidden under a black baseball cap, and her face was still swollen and bruised. Even so, when she looked up with a smile as he approached, he felt the full impact of the effect she had on him. It hit him somewhere just south of his abdomen. Whom was he kidding? The feeling began well south of his abdomen. He told himself it was what faeries did best. Their ability to enchant was legendary. Faerie glamor, his mother would have called it. The old-fashioned term and the memory of his mother made him smile. Moncoya’s dislike of the phrase was well-known. The faerie king preferred to believe it was his personal charm that drew others to him. Dismissing the unwelcome intrusion of Moncoya into his thoughts, Lorcan joined Tanzi on the step.

“I thought you wanted to talk to me in private?” Tanzi leaned in close so that he could hear her above the noise. Her breath brushed tantalizingly close to his ear.

“I do.” He pointed with his beer bottle at the teeming square. “No one here is remotely interested in us or anything we have to say. They are all too busy having their own good time.”

She laughed, taking a slice of pizza from the box on his knee and biting into it with very white, very even teeth. He remembered another thing his mother used to say. “Are you claiming me for your own?” He nodded at the pizza. “Sharing food with me? In faerie terms, doesn’t this mean I belong to you now?”

Tanzi blushed and glanced down at the slice of pizza in her hand. “I didn’t think. I never meant...”

“I’m teasing you. In a way, I’m already yours to command. I told you that three months ago, on the day of the battle for control of Otherworld.”

She drew in a deep breath and, for a moment, he thought she was about to say something more. Instead, she nodded at the crowded square. “Is this what you mortals do?”

So she bought in to the pretense that he was mortal. Most people did. He was good at it and it was half-true, anyway. He didn’t contradict her. “Have fun? Yeah, we try. Sometimes we even succeed.”

They ate and drank in companionable silence.

“What did you wish to say to me?” Tanzi turned to face him and Lorcan thought again how amazing her eyes were. The bright blaze of sidhe fire around her irises made the blue of her pupils appear darker. There was something slightly feline in the slant of her eyes and the finely arched brows above them. A man could drown in those eyes. Unless he was very careful.

“If you are to remain in the safe house, we must take great care not to let anyone know who you are.” The long lashes swept down, shadowing her cheeks, but not before he caught a glimpse of the pain his words had caused her.

“Because of my father.”

“Yes.” What else could he say? There was no way to soften the blow. She was Moncoya’s daughter. If she was recognized, she’d be lucky to get out of the safe house in one piece. Moncoya had wrecked too many lives for anyone to forgive and forget. And Tanzi was no innocent. She had played a willing part in her father’s villainy.

“Was I wrong to come here?”

“No. You were right to come to me. I will keep my promise and take care of you, but you need to face facts. Your name isn’t going to win you any popularity contests among the Iberian sidhes.”

“So what story shall I tell? What must my name be?”

Lorcan frowned. He hadn’t thought of her name. But there was only one Tanzi. She was as well-known as her father. The name had to go. “Keep it simple. You have no story because you have no memory. You don’t even remember your own name.”

“I can’t be nameless. You will have to call me something.”

He stared into those endless eyes. “I will call you Searc.”

Tanzi wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I like that. What does it mean?”

“Ah, some old Irish words have lost their meaning in the mists of time,” he lied. “Now, if you are to stay at the safe house, you must earn your keep.”

Tanzi started to laugh, the action bringing her shoulder into contact with Lorcan’s arm. A warm feeling spread from his chest to his stomach. She was addictive. Perhaps he should allow himself these small doses of her touch now and then. Just to develop immunity and test his own strength. “I have not been trained to cook or wash dishes.”

“You should offer to help Maria with both. She’ll refuse, but it will endear you to her. No, I think your fighting skills will prove more useful than your domestic talents.” How would she respond? He was asking her to take up arms against her father. It was the ultimate test of how serious she was.

Tanzi’s face told him she understood. For a moment her expression was open to him and the anguish he read in her eyes shocked him. What had Moncoya done to her?

“Agreed.”

That single word said it all. Whatever had caused her to run to him, it was so bad she was prepared to change sides. Lorcan knew how that felt. It was the hardest decision in the world. Without thinking, he took her hand in his. Tanzi looked down in surprise. Briefly, she let her hand rest passively in Lorcan’s palm. Then she turned it and twined her fingers between his. It was a touching, trusting gesture. They sat together for a long time, hand in hand, watching the lively display of life unfolding in the square in front of them.

“Tell me about the men who hurt you.” Lorcan broke the silence at last.

She let go of his hand, and it felt as if a spell had been broken. Perhaps it had. “I was foolish.”

“You trusted me enough to come looking for me. You can tell me about this.” Pedro said they had found her half-naked and beaten. That was bad enough. Was it even worse? His mind made a connection he didn’t want. “Tell me they didn’t—?”

“No.” She interrupted quickly. Her cheeks flamed. “They didn’t rape me. Is that what you meant?” He nodded. “They were street performers. Dressed as a bullfighter and a bull. I suppose they thought I was just a naive tourist flaunting my expensive clothes. I think it could have been much worse, but I’d told them I was looking for you. They knew your name. They seemed to be afraid of you.”

“So they bloody should be.” His jaw muscles tightened.

“They called you a renegade. What did they mean by that?”

Lorcan didn’t answer at first. Renegade. It was a word he hadn’t heard in a long time. A word he had hoped never to hear again. When he did speak, it wasn’t in answer to Tanzi’s question.

“I know who they are.”

* * *

Tanzi regarded Lorcan thoughtfully. “You take your old room, I can sleep in here.”

She indicated the cramped space in which they were standing. It was the only other room on the top floor of the house and, until an hour ago, it had been used by Maria as a linen closet. After returning from the square, Lorcan and Tanzi had cleared it of its contents and carried a foldaway bed up the winding stairs all the way from the cellar. It just fitted into the cramped space. Maria, after eying the arrangement in disgust, was making her way—with much huffing and complaining—down the stairs with laden armfuls of bedding.

“Sure, isn’t this the height of luxury after some of the places I’ve been forced to get my head down in my time?” He grinned and Tanzi’s stomach responded by doing a strange little flip-flop movement. She wondered briefly if it might be some sort of necromancer spell. If it was, its purpose eluded her. “Go to bed, Searc.”

It must be a spell, she decided later. Why else would she be drifting aimlessly around her room in a giddy trance, listening to the sounds of Lorcan getting into bed in the room next door? Smiling to herself as she heard him bump his head on the low ceiling and curse? Picturing the tanned torso she had seen that morning and imagining running her fingers lightly over those interesting ridges of muscle? Discovering that she was not, as she had always believed, immune to the pull of sexual attraction that others found so enticing?

Flopping down onto her own bed, Tanzi thought about what Lorcan had said. If she stayed here, she was changing sides. She would join the fight against her father. To even contemplate such an action should make her weighed down by her own duplicity. So why did she feel—her mind searched for the right word—liberated? It was as though her subconscious had been seeking this decision all along and, now it was made, every part of her felt lighter and freer.

This all-enveloping sense of relief was not just a result of Moncoya’s behavior toward Tanzi herself. The preceding three months had provided her with more than enough proof of his corruption and viciousness. Even though she was his daughter, the faeries had started to come to Tanzi with their stories. She was gaining a reputation for fairness and action. They were beginning to trust her. Tanzi herself no longer had any faith in Moncoya. Finally, she could accept that she had never loved him. Her life had been ruled by her fear of him.

So I will proudly turn my coat. I will become a renegade like you, Lorcan Malone. Tanzi had seen the wretchedness in his eyes when she said the word, and her curiosity had spiked in response. I know why I am crossing the line, and I will do so with my head held high. What was your reason, necromancer?

The third stair from the top had a creak that sounded like a strangled cat. When it came, it was the signal Tanzi had been waiting for. The noise had either been caused by someone coming up the stairs, or, as she suspected, by Lorcan sneaking down.

Slipping fully dressed from her bed, Tanzi pulled the hood of her dark sweatshirt up so that it hid her hair. Leaving her room, she closed the door carefully behind her and leaned over the banister. She could see Lorcan on the flight of stairs below her. He was carrying his shoes. Avoiding that telltale third step, Tanzi made her way down, hiding in the shadows of the landing as Lorcan paused to pull on his boots.

The night air was crisp as she followed him outside. Lorcan’s long stride made him hard to keep up with, but the streets were thankfully quiet. Tanzi found herself running from one corner to the next, peeking around buildings before tiptoeing on. Like a cartoon caricature of a sleuth, she thought in annoyance. Are all men this obstinate? Why couldn’t he have just offered to take me with him?

Lorcan made his way out of the winding lanes around the safe house and into a wider promenade near the Ramblas. There were more signs of life here. Neon lights cut through the darkness and a few revelers were trying to maintain the daytime carnival atmosphere. The smell of beer and fried onions hung heavy in the air. Tanzi kept her hands in her pockets and her head down, glancing up only now and then to check that Lorcan was still in her sights. That was how she almost missed it when he ducked into a narrow alley between a bar and a strip club. Doubt assailed her. Maybe she had this all wrong. Was he actually planning a nocturnal visit to seek comfort in one of the district’s seedier establishments? These advertised their services with red lights hung over their doors. Although the prostitutes loitering on the doorsteps might also have been a clue.

Tanzi hung back, watching by the light of a single streetlamp as Lorcan followed a short cobbled passage, then turned left. When she sprinted after him, she found herself in a walled courtyard, with a church at one end. The building was abandoned. Even in the darkness it was clear that half the roof had fallen in and there was no glass in the windows. There was no sign of Lorcan. Tanzi spun round. There hadn’t been time for him to scale one of the ten-foot-high walls that enclosed the square yard and, while she knew that his friend Cal had the power to make himself invisible, it was not a common trait among necromancers.

A shout of laughter from inside the church drew Tanzi’s attention and, clinging to the shadows, she made her way in that direction. As she approached, she noticed Lorcan’s tall figure to one side of the door. He was hanging back, observing what was taking place inside. Presented with a dilemma, Tanzi considered her options. If she went any closer, Lorcan would notice her. If she remained where she was, she would be unable to see what was going on. Curiosity won, which was probably what prompted her next action.

When Tanzi was a child, she and Vashti used to sit spellbound while their old nurse, Rina, told tales of faerie folklore. Of a time when mortals understood that the wee, fae folk were part of their heritage, accepting the decisions of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, even referring to Otherworld as “Faeryland.” There were no divisions then between the faerie factions. No separation between faerie and sidhe, no fighting for prominence between Iberia and Celt for who would rule the faerie dynasty. Now, of course, Tanzi understood Rina’s hidden message. She spoke of a time when there was no Moncoya. Rina would tell them of the powers of the ancient faeries. Faeries of the Seelie Court could bestow good fortune upon mortals, change the landscape, control the weather and the crops, levitate or fly and shape-shift. These powers were frowned upon by Moncoya because, in him and other descendants of the Unseelie Court, they were weak or nonexistent. Gradually, over the centuries of sidhe rule and as the distance between Otherworld and the mortal realm grew wider, the faeries had become a fighting race and their benign powers faded.

Nevertheless, Tanzi and Vashti had been determined to put their own skills to the test. Tanzi had never mastered levitation, although, after much practice, Vashti had been able to hover a few feet above her bed. Beyond all others, the one faerie power that had fascinated them throughout their childhood had been shape-shifting.

“I will be a cat,” Tanzi had declared.

“Panther.” Trust Vashti to go bigger, bolder, meaner and keener.

With no clear idea of how to go about the necessary transformation, they had spent hours concentrating on the feline forms into which they wished to change. Tanzi recalled a whole day during which she had followed the kitchen cat around the palace grounds, emulating its movements and imagining herself inside its skin. No matter what they did, neither twin sprouted so much as a whisker. Dispirited, they had questioned Rina about the problem.

“Your father would not like it if he knew I talked to you of the old ways.” Their nurse had cast a nervous look over her shoulder as though expecting Moncoya to emerge from the very walls. “It would be worse if he thought I was encouraging you to try them.”

“We won’t tell if you don’t,” Tanzi had assured her. “But we want to know how to shift.”

“I don’t understand how it works,” Vashti, a stickler for detail, had grumbled. “Even if we could work out what to do, what happens to our clothes when we shift? And how do we come back into our own form again?”

Rina had shaken her head, clicking her tongue indulgently. “Ah, my princesses, you are thinking about this in the wrong way. This is what happens when the old traditions are allowed to die. You are faeries, not were-creatures. Your bodies do not change in the way theirs do.”

Spellbound, Tanzi and Vashti had gazed at her. “Go on.”

“The faerie skill lies in the ability to weave an illusion. We are creatures of magic. Changing shape is part of our glamor. All you have ever needed is the desire to create your disguise. If you believe, you will make others believe with you.”

Round-eyed, the twins had watched each other in delight as they shifted easily into their chosen animal form. From that day on, Tanzi’s go-to shift throughout her childhood had been a black cat. Mercurial Vashti chose a different animal each day, depending on her mood. It had remained their secret, one they had never revealed to anyone else. Their father’s response to their newfound skill was not one they cared to predict.

It had been a while since she had donned her feline disguise, Tanzi conceded. But, if she wanted to see what was going on over at that church, it was her only option. Her mind was made up when Lorcan moved out of the shadows and pushed open the wooden door. Dropping into a crouch and then onto all fours, Tanzi padded into her cat form. She crossed the square and then sprang lightly onto one of the window ledges so that she could look down through the broken glass and onto the scene below.