Otherworld Protector

by Jane Godman

  “What’s that?” Stella lifted her face so that she could look at his profile. His jaw was rigid with tension.

  “I have to let him capture me.”

  * * *

  Stella barely noticed the panoramic view of Barcelona in front of her or the enchanting creations of the Park Güell behind her. Lorcan held a pair of binoculars to his eyes and was engrossed in training these on one particular property situated above and to the right of the park. This was the only angle from which La Casa Oscura was not completely hidden by trees.

  “What will Moncoya do to Cal when he captures him?”

  “Imprison him.” Lorcan’s attention didn’t waver from Moncoya’s home.

  “Is that all?”

  “The dungeons under the faerie king’s palace are not exactly the Ritz, me darlin’ girl.”

  “He won’t hurt Cal, will he?” Stella gave his sleeve an insistent tug and Lorcan reluctantly lowered the binoculars.

  His eyes softened slightly as they scanned her face. “Cal’s not an easy man to hurt.”

  Stella chewed her thumbnail. “Maybe not, but he’ll be placing himself in the power of his worst enemy. Moncoya hates him.”

  “I’m thinking it’s a feeling that’s reciprocated. If I was a betting man, I’d be putting my own money on Cal to come off best. Now stop your fretting and concentrate.”

  “What am I focusing on exactly?”

  “That.” He pointed up the hillside at La Casa Oscura.

  “I’ve been there before, remember? I worked for Moncoya before all this madness kicked off.”

  “But, back then, you thought it was a house. You didn’t know what it really was.”

  “And what is it, exactly?”

  “A dark house.”

  “It’s in the name. La Casa Oscura means ‘dark house,’” Stella pointed out.

  “Yes, and isn’t it just like that little shit Moncoya to flaunt it in that way? A dark house is a portal to Otherworld. Not just any portal, a very specific opening into the very worst that Otherworld has to offer. Yon casa there is unique. It can be a portal to Moncoya’s splendid royal palace or it can take you right into Otherworld’s dark underbelly, the place where Moncoya and his friends carry out their nasty business.”

  Stella turned her back on the iconic view, leaning against the tiled parapet so that she could keep Lorcan and La Casa Oscura in her sights. She had a feeling she really didn’t want to know exactly what sort of nasty business Moncoya got up to.

  “I didn’t notice anything of the things you describe when I was working there. Surely, given that I am the necromancer star, I should have.”

  Lorcan smiled. “You didn’t know who you were back then. I guarantee it will feel different this time.”

  “I still don’t fully understand Otherworld,” Stella confessed. “How it exists and how you and Cal travel between here and there with seeming ease, yet most mortals remain unaware of it.”

  “Otherworld is no less real just because, most of the time, we can’t see it. Centuries ago, people were more accepting of other beings and of what they believed to be magic. They took great pains not to anger the spirits and gave offerings to their pagan deities. They knew the truth...that the curtain between the worlds is a thin one. Sometimes, it becomes invisible.” He glanced up at the late afternoon sky. “The worlds are closest at dusk and dawn.”

  “That’s the sort of thing I can’t get my head around. One minute you say Otherworld is all around us and the next you speak about it as a physical place.”

  “Sure, isn’t that because you’re trying to think about it logically? All mythologies—Roman, Greek, Norse, Indian—vary about the original location of Otherworld. My own ancestors, the ancient Celts, believed it was a series of islands set far out in the Atlantic. Even now, there are stories that it appears magically now and then to Irish sailors, only to disappear when they get closer. Some portals, like yon casa, are the dark ones, recently created and well guarded. Others, like the stone circles of the Druids, have existed for thousands of years. Getting in? Easy. All you have to do is believe it exists.” He grinned. “It’s once you’re in that things get tough.”

  “And on that note—” Stella pushed herself away from the wall and hauled her backpack onto her shoulder. Gathering up the bags that contained items she had purchased that morning in the Plaҫa de Catalunya, she squared her shoulders. “Time to go.”

  “I’ll be seeing you in less than a day. Look after yourself in the meantime.” Lorcan raised his hand in a curiously formal salute as she walked away from him in the direction of La Casa Oscura. Stella comforted herself with the thought that she was getting better at leaving people. Or maybe it was just because he wasn’t Cal.

  Twenty minutes later, after getting slightly lost among the narrow streets, Stella paused, studying what little she could see of La Casa Oscura from the exact point where she had first viewed it. She tried to recapture her initial impression of the house. How different life would have been if she’d trusted her inner, warning voice that night. It was no good telling herself bewitchment was what Moncoya did best, that it was his faerie trademark. This was where it had all begun, and Stella felt now that she had somehow failed by not knowing that she was walking into a trap. Yet, if she had not stepped through these wrought-iron gates that night, would anything have been different? According to the prophecy, this was her fate. So even if she had turned tail and run, she would still have arrived at this point in her life. And the journey had not been all bad. Parts of it—a smile touched her lips at the thought of Cal—had been quite amazing.

  “Oh, just get on with it,” she muttered under her breath.

  The words galvanized her and she marched decisively through the gates. It seemed she was expected. As she approached the steps leading to the entrance, the front doors opened. She couldn’t see anyone in the gloom beyond. Decision deserted her. Flight, fight or freeze. Her brain offered her body those options and refused to accept a fourth. Smile and keep walking. Although she willed her feet and her face into action, nothing happened. Come on, Stella. Eventually, just as she was starting to resemble a statue—fixed forever in midstride on the gravel drive—her brain unfroze and she managed to put one foot in front of the other. The smile remained beyond her capabilities.

  The interior of the casa was delightfully cool after the heat of a Barcelona evening. The huge room was exactly as she remembered it, complete with several electronics geeks lounging around on cushions, chatting and playing games. Even though it looked the same, Lorcan was right. It felt different. The crawling sensation up her spine warned her of danger.

  “Stella!” It was Diego, struggling to untangle his limbs from the depths of a cushion. He glanced at her backpack and bags. “You been away for a few days?”

  “Something like that.”

  She gazed around her. It was a surreal feeling, as if she really had been away for only a day or two. Was Moncoya playing mind games? Stella stared at the glass window that had been shattered by the Valkyries. The repair job was flawless. “Was anything damaged when the window broke?” she asked Diego.

  “Which window would that be?” Diego appeared mildly interested.

  Stella waved him back to his friends. “I’m going upstairs to unpack.”

  This was not how she had imagined her return to the casa would unfold. No welcome party. No sidhes. No Moncoya. The feeling of unreality—or too much reality—lasted as long as it took her to climb the spiral staircase and open the door of her room.

  Moncoya was lounging on her bed eating an apple. He wore the trousers and waistcoat from a pin-striped suit over a flawless ruffled shirt. Two-tone spats on his feet and a gray felt trilby on his head completed the look. Beneath the hat, his wild mane had been tied back into a ponytail. Anyone else would have looked ridiculous. Moncoya looked as if he was
ready for a photo shoot.

  When Stella paused just inside the door, Moncoya sat up, throwing the apple across the room without looking. It landed, with unerring precision, in the waste bin.

  “Your flight from England landed thirty hours ago.” He rose and came toward her with his unique fluid grace. “I hope you did not get lost, my star.”

  Stella held up her bags. “Prewedding shopping. Bride-to-be’s perks, Ezra. I’m sure your spies have told you which shops I visited on the Plaҫa de Catalunya this morning. I didn’t think you’d begrudge me a little retail therapy before we tie the knot.”

  His eyes narrowed, then he laughed, showing very white, very even teeth. “You are good, Stella. Very good. Not entirely convincing, but at least you are here. Where does Lorcan Malone fit into your schemes?”

  “He’s my friend.” Now or never. “And he’ll be at our wedding, giving me away.”

  “I think not.”

  “Think again.”

  They faced each other like a pair of wary cats. Stella could feel him testing her. His power rippled through her whole body. It was an unwelcome, invasive but not entirely unpleasant sensation. Stella remained stock-still and tried to shut him out. She didn’t know how much he could discover from his probing. Let him think she was weaker than she was. She didn’t want to reveal her true strength to him. Not yet.

  Moncoya shrugged. “If you insist. Although he has been known to consort with the other one, Lorcan Malone can hardly be considered a threat.”

  “Thank you.” She inhaled, recognizing only in that moment that she had been holding her breath at all. She had rehearsed her next little speech. “No matter how strong my feelings for you may be, I’m not sure I wish to marry you, Ezra. It’s all happened so fast. But you are right. I have no other choice.”

  “You are very wise to choose me, my star. It will be my privilege to protect you from those who would harm you because of their flawed interpretation of the prophecy.”

  “And in return you’d like me to slaughter your enemies.”

  His smile was all charm. “But of course.”

  “What now?” Stella glanced around the familiar room as if seeing it for the first time. I am discussing my wedding to the faerie king as if it is the most normal thing in the world.

  “Tomorrow there will be a betrothal feast at my home in Otherworld. You will love my beautiful palace when you see it.” Stella remembered Cal’s prediction that Moncoya would want to show her off. “The following day the marriage ceremony will take place.”

  “Talk about sweeping a girl off her feet.”

  “You have admitted that you are not sure you wish to marry me. I am not entirely convinced that your presence here is not some sort of elaborate pretense, although I don’t yet know what you hope to gain from it. Once you are my queen, you will be in my power, Stella. Your motives are unimportant. You have delivered yourself up to me. The end result will be the same.”

  Stella shivered, no longer caring if he saw her fear. “You have a unique—and rather scary—wooing technique, Ezra.”

  He bowed slightly from the waist as if she had paid him a compliment. “I will leave you to prepare. We will depart for Otherworld within the hour.”

  * * *

  “Some see the world with the inner eye, while others remain stubbornly determined to cling only to their outer vision,” Moncoya spoke softly in Stella’s ear as they stood in the garden of La Casa Oscura just as the final rays of day faded from the sky. “With the inner eye, nothing is invisible. Look around you, Stella. Tell me what you see.”

  As pointless questions went, that one had to be the most infuriating she had heard in a long time. Stella felt as if she was back in school and reading a passage from a book that was spoiled when a teacher insisted on overanalyzing it until it lost all meaning. She had already spent long evenings here drinking in the beauty of the casa’s location. The views across the city were second to none. The city itself was breathtaking. She had no idea why Moncoya had brought her out here to look at it again, but she had no doubt it was one of his games. It felt as if he was wasting time, but Moncoya never did anything without a good reason. Why did she feel like a mouse trapped between the paws of a very dangerous, very well-groomed cat?

  “Ezra, when do we go to Otherworld?” She made no attempt to keep the impatience out of her voice.

  “Look with your inner eye, Stella. Then tell me.”

  Sighing, she stepped up to the balustrade. Right, my inner eye. Whatever that might be. Because I’ve really got time for this. The lights of the city flickered below her. She closed her eyes, putting on a show for Moncoya. What had Lorcan said about Otherworld? It was closest at dawn and dusk. If Moncoya persisted in this nonsense, they would miss their opportunity to get there today. Lorcan had also said you must believe it existed. That part was easy. I have to believe it. When my entire future, and that of the whole world, depends on it, how can I disbelieve? Deciding she had played this game for long enough, Stella opened her eyes.

  The sensation of unreality as she did made her feel giddy. She was standing on a different terrace, high on a rocky cliff. Far below her the lights of Barcelona were gone. The evening sunlight illuminated a chain of tiny green islands clinging to a turquoise-and-gold coastline. She turned her head, gazing upward in disbelief. La Casa Oscura was gone, too. In its place was a soaring white marble fairy-tale palace of endless turrets and towers.

  “Welcome to your new home.” They were the exact words he had spoken to her when she first arrived at La Casa Oscura. “What do you think of Otherworld, my star?”

  Aware that her mouth was gaping open slightly in shock, Stella closed it with an audible click. She had not actually given any thought, prior to this moment, to what Otherworld might look like. She supposed now that, in her mind at least, she had made it into a dark, frightening place with horrors lurking around every shadowy corner. Nothing had prepared her for the breathtaking beauty of the reality that was Otherworld. The air was lush with the mingled scents of pine and lavender, and she could hear the sounds of the waves far below and the gulls overhead.

  “It’s amazing.” Stella leaned far out over the rail so that she could see the water churning onto the rocks below.

  “Do you see now why it is fought over?”

  “No. I don’t understand how you could bear to spoil so much beauty with violence. Why can’t you be content to share?”

  “Your youth and lack of familiarity with Otherworld history dictates your prosaic approach. My feelings are born of blood, passion and poetry. I hope in time to educate you into my ways.”

  There was a message in the words that was about more than the legends and politics of Otherworld. The gleam in Moncoya’s eye was lascivious, and he made a move to place his hand on the bare flesh of Stella’s forearm. She moved slightly, so that his fingertips connected with thin air. The frown that descended over his features drove away any trace of geniality and, in that instant, his expression was truly terrifying.

  Although Cal had said that, even invisible, he would never be able to break through Moncoya’s barriers, Stella kept hoping to see that trick-of-light movement at the edge of her vision. I need you, Cal. There was nothing. Even though she couldn’t feel his shadowy presence, she sensed he was on his way. The thought comforted and alarmed her at the same time.

  Moncoya interrupted her thoughts. “Let us go inside. I wish to present you to my family.”

  That could mean only one thing. It was time to be formally introduced to Moncoya’s formidable daughters. Tanzi and Vashti. Valkyrie-trained warrior princesses. Being a stepmother was never an easy job. This was going to be a nightmare.

  Dragging her feet slightly, Stella followed Moncoya through a high-arched doorway and into the opulent interior of the palace.

  Chapter 19

  “The
banquet hall is the palace’s finest room.” Moncoya’s voice echoed with pride as he escorted Stella into a space the approximate size of an aircraft hangar. It was encircled at first-floor height by galleries and its magnificent walls were decorated in extravagant murals of dazzling gold and blue.

  At one end, set on a raised dais in front of three arched, stained glass windows, there were two elaborately carved high-backed thrones. Vashti lounged sideways on one of these with her legs swinging casually over the side. She was dressed in combat fatigues, which seemed to be a very specific statement about her approach to meeting her father’s new bride. Tanzi was standing beneath the windows. The light from a wall sconce gave her golden hair an extra sheen and illuminated her ethereal, unearthly beauty. She looked up as Moncoya brought Stella forward, her eyes dark and unreadable. Vashti did not glance their way, but instead she carried on talking, finishing what she had been saying to her sister.

  “...nothing more insufferable than keeping people waiting.” She glanced up, as though surprised to see them. “Oh, good evening, Father Dear. Tanzi and I were just saying that of all the things we hate most, unpunctuality must rate among the highest.” She turned the fire-ringed beam of her gaze onto Stella. “We were expecting you an hour ago.”

  Stella detected bitter jealousy dripping through Vashti’s words. She had heard that note before when, as a child, she had gone to foster homes where the family already had children. Then, it had been hurtful, but understandable. Vashti was an adult. A grown woman and a spoiled brat. And one who was trained in combat by the Valkyries. Possibly not the best person to cross. Thank God I’m not in this for the long haul.

  “What a pity no one informed me of the schedule,” Stella replied in her sweetest voice. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  A slight hissing noise emanated from between Vashti’s clenched teeth and she sat up straighter, tension coiling through her frame. Stella stiffened, anticipating an attack.

  “You will remember your manners, my daughter.” Despite the coolness of Moncoya’s voice, the threat was unmistakable. Vashti subsided again, her lovely face sulky. “You will both—” he turned so that his words encompassed Tanzi “—treat Stella with courtesy or know my wrath.”