“We were waiting for you, Lorcan. We need your necromancer prowess.”
Lorcan sighed. “Why do all the worst jobs always start off with that sentence?”
CHAPTER 5
“I don’t see why Lorcan has to bring her along.” Lisbet made no attempt to lower her voice, and Tanzi stiffened slightly as the words reached her through the open kitchen door. “Her only use seems to be decorative.”
“Hush.” Aydan’s quieter tones carried into the hall, where Tanzi was sitting on the bottom stair, waiting for Lorcan to lead them all to the brothel. “She will hear you. We may not know who she is, but we know she has been through a great trauma.”
“For that reason alone she shouldn’t come. What possible good will she be to us if there is any fighting?”
“We must trust Lorcan. If he wants her with us, then she comes.”
There was a definite huffing noise from Lisbet, but no further argument. Pedro was hovering near the front door and, when there was a knock, he hurried to see who it was. Once the sidhe caretaker had satisfied himself that there was no threat, he opened the door and Lorcan strolled in. He was accompanied by Iago.
“Don’t we need to wait for dark?” Lisbet asked as the five of them prepared to depart. It was late afternoon.
“The ideal time for a surprise attack is under cover of darkness, when the brothel’s activities will be in full swing. That’s when we’ll take the place. But for now we want to reconnoiter and get an idea of what we’re up against. This is the best time to do it. They won’t be on their guard and we can get an idea of what sort of security they have in place.”
The site of the brothel was in the medieval Gothic quarter of the city in a cloistered placa, or square, dating back to the days of the Inquisition. It was like stepping back in time. Once they were within the decorative tiled walls, it had the feel of a country village with geese and ducks wandering freely and vines rambling wild. The vast city might have been a million miles away. Tanzi, still adjusting to the difference between her mystical Otherworld home and the harsh realities of the mortal realm, was thrust slightly off balance by another change of scene. They hung back in a side alley, surveying the placa.
“They chose this for the location of such debauchery?” Iago cast a disbelieving glance around at the peaceful setting.
“That building was an Inquisition torture chamber.” Lorcan’s face was grim as he pointed to a Gothic structure with curved walls and high, arched slits in place of windows. “Many of the original features have been preserved.”
Everyone fell silent as they contemplated the building and the implication of Lorcan’s words. It was Aydan who broke the silence. “What do we do now? We can’t go and knock on the door, can we?”
“There isn’t a door,” Tanzi pointed out. It was only when they all turned to stare at her that she realized she had spoken aloud.
“Found your voice?” Lisbet’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.
“Pedro has plans of most of the old areas of the city. There are two underground entrances to this building. One is through another placa to the rear of the building. That is the one the sidhes currently use. The other is through an underground crypt in the cloisters over there.” Lorcan pointed. “The inquisitors took their victims straight from the altar to the torture chamber.”
“It strikes me as odd.” Iago viewed the strange structure again. “Surely the point of running a brothel is to make money? Isn’t the fact that there is no obvious way of getting into it something of a disadvantage from a business point of view?”
“On the contrary,” Lorcan responded. “The exclusivity of this place is its selling point. Passing trade would be a hazard. And let’s not forget Moncoya’s human guise. He is the mortal realm’s electronics virtuoso, internet supremo, master of the dark web. Those mortals who want to know what is offered here—so long as they can pay the going rate, of course—will learn of it. There is no need to tout for trade.”
Tanzi shuddered. How little she had known of the man whose genes she shared. And yet she never doubted that Lorcan was speaking the truth about her father. She accepted Moncoya’s ability to lead a double life as readily as she accepted his evil tendencies. Perhaps she was more like him than she cared to believe. She was hiding her true personality from these people, after all, and doing it very effectively. I am not evil. Please let me not have inherited his destructive traits. She shivered again at the thought.
Lorcan, sensing the movement, glanced down at her. “You okay with this?” His voice was low enough for her ears alone. “You don’t have to do it.”
“You will never know how much I do.”
He studied her face, then nodded decisively. “Very well. Aydan, wait here with Iago and Lisbet. Watch out for any activity. Searc, come with me.”
They followed the shadowy outer edge of the placa, following in the footsteps of ancient cruel inquisitors. When they were at a right angle to the building that housed the brothel, Lorcan paused. “According to the plans Pedro showed me, the entrance to the crypt should be around here.”
The marble wall that marked the outer edge of the placa was smooth, with decorative arches set at regular intervals along its length. Tanzi pointed to one of these.
“There.”
Camouflaged within the dappled gray surface of the marble there was a small iron ring, slightly rusted with age. Lorcan lifted it and, with a groan of protest, the marble panel slid inward, revealing gaping darkness beyond. A scurrying sound indicated that they had disturbed the creatures lurking within.
Lorcan raised a hand and the darkness vanished. The light he cast revealed a narrow corridor and the disappearing shapes of several large rats. “The entrance to our crypt, I believe. Can you cope with the rodents?”
“Have you forgotten my preferred choice of shift?” Taking the hand he held out to her, Tanzi followed him into the narrow space.
“Hadn’t I just? Don’t you be off chasing rats and leaving me to fend for myself, will you now?” Lorcan pulled the marble panel closed behind them.
They were in a narrow corridor just wide enough for Lorcan to walk along and lead Tanzi behind him. It smelled of damp and decay, and thick dusty cobwebs brushed their faces. Nature had made an attempt to reclaim it, and dark moss covered the walls, while green tendrils stretched down through cracks in the roof. As they followed the twists of the passage, it led them sharply downward until it opened out into a cavernous space. Here the rocky walls were lined with shelves. Lorcan kept Tanzi’s hand in one of his, but he held his other hand high to illuminate the scene. Each shelf was stacked high with coffins in varying states of repair.
“The crypt.”
There was something different about Lorcan’s voice when he said the word. Tanzi studied his face. His expression was serene, almost dreamy, as his eyes scanned the coffins. It was as though an inner peace had descended upon him. Should it surprise her that he was at home here among the dead? He was a necromancer, after all, one of those rare and magical beings who were born with the ability to communicate with those who had gone beyond life. She just hoped he wasn’t going to start doing it now.
As if he sensed her unease, Lorcan drew his eyes back to her face. “If Pedro is right, we should be able to enter the other building from here. The inquisitors used this crypt to hide the true number of their dead from the outside world.”
“There doesn’t seem to be any way out, other than the way we came in.” Tanzi looked around. It was a man-made cave with rough stone walls and a high, rounded ceiling. “It’s a dead end.”
Lorcan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Less of the dead jokes, please. I’ve heard them all before.”
“I didn’t mean—” Tanzi’s protest was cut short by a scraping noise from one of the coffins. It was soft but unmistakable. Nervously, she drew closer to Lorcan. “Wha
t was that?” Even though she whispered, her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the echoing space.
“One of them needs to tell me something.” Lorcan started to move toward the shelf from which the noise was becoming louder and more insistent. Tanzi gripped his hand tighter, keeping him at her side.
“Just like that? Do dead people often feel the need to tell you things?”
“If it’s important they do. They can sense my presence.” He turned to face her. “You’re trembling.” He drew her to him, running his hands up and down her arms. Soothing me as he would a frightened animal, Tanzi told herself, even as she gave herself up to the sensations his touch provoked. Just as if I really am the kitten he jokes about me being. “There is nothing to fear from the souls who lie here. Even if they wished us harm—and I doubt they do—the dead cannot hurt a necromancer.” He slid his fingers under her chin, constraining her to look up at him even though her instinct was to burrow her head into his chest. “I’ll look after you, Searc.”
Releasing her, Lorcan went over to the stack of coffins. The noise was coming from the casket on the top shelf. It was newer and less elaborate than the others, little more than a plain box compared with their wrought iron–encrusted grandeur. Placing his hands on the lid, he bent his head as if in prayer. “Asprecan. Speak to me.” His voice was gentle, offering a world of sympathy to the coffin’s occupant.
The coffin began to rock back and forth on its shelf as the noises from within became frantic. Muffled cries from inside tugged at Tanzi’s heartstrings and she hurried to Lorcan’s side, forgetting her earlier fear. “What can we do?”
“Help me get this top off.”
Lorcan produced a serviceable-looking army knife from his back pocket and, flicking out the blade, began to unscrew the coffin lid. When it was free, Tanzi helped him to lift it clear of the casket and place it on the ground. The young girl who instantly sat up and regarded them with huge, petrified eyes didn’t look dead. Her skin was creamy, her hair lustrous, and her lips retained a cherry bloom. The only telltale sign that she might have relinquished her hold on life was the dagger embedded in her chest and the splash of bright crimson that bloomed around it.
She looked at Lorcan in surprise, then lifted a hand to point at Tanzi. “Faerie.”
“Yes, but she will not hurt you,” Lorcan reassured her.
“Faeries is deadly.”
“I mean you no harm.” Tanzi stepped forward, but the girl shrank away from her.
“She is a dryad,” Lorcan said. “Or she was in life. They fear your race. Although she can see you, you cannot interact with her now that she is dead. Nothing you say or do will comfort her. It’s best if you stand to one side while I discover what she wishes to say to me.”
“Does she know she’s dead?” Tanzi whispered.
“Possibly not.” There was a trace of regret in his smile. “She’ll find out soon enough. It’s my least favorite part of the job description.”
Tanzi moved away slightly, casting a wary glance at the other coffins. What if one of the other occupants of this crypt suddenly discovered a burning desire to converse with Lorcan while he was otherwise engaged? She decided to stay far enough from the walls not to find herself on the receiving end of a bony hand reaching out from one of the shelves. The dryad stared around her with wide, startled eyes.
“What is your name?”
“Iphae.” It seemed she was compelled to answer Lorcan. “What place is this?”
“You are in the mortal realm, in a city called Barcelona. Do you remember how you got here?”
She began to shake her head. Then she raised a hand to cover her lips, and the shaking turned to nodding. The hand dropped, her lip trembled and tears filled the gray-green depths of her eyes. “Sidhes did come to our forest and hunt us down like animals. Only the youngest girls did they want. I was fearful for my little sister so I helped her to hide deep in the woods. Took me instead, didn’t they?”
“What happened when they brought you here?” Lorcan’s voice was gentle.
Iphae hung her head. “Cannot say it. Not to make me, please.”
“Did they make you work for them? In their brothels?”
She nodded and fat, glistening tears rolled down her cheeks. “Mortal men pay good money for no-good dryad bitches, sidhes do say. Keep us in chains until our masters come, don’t they?”
“Who hurt you, Iphae?”
She gazed up at him blankly. Then her hand went to her breast, seeking the hilt of the dagger. “Oh!” Iphae’s breath hitched in shock and Tanzi wanted to go to her and cradle the lost girl in her arms. Sympathy was another new emotion she had learned through her contact with Lorcan. What a pity a faerie’s touch would terrify the sad little dryad even further. “Big mortal took a liking to me. Cruel, and getting worse each time, wasn’t he? In fear for my life, I was. Stole this knife from one of the sidhes, didn’t I? This time when he got too rough, I cut him. Wasn’t going to take that from a cheap dryad whore, was he? Paid me back, didn’t he?”
“Is that what you wished to tell me?”
She frowned as though concentrating hard. “No. I hear them talk, don’t I? Saying the great Moncoya is set to rise again stronger than ever and return to his rightful place. Time to put these resistance dogs down, isn’t it? Set a trap for them. Their leader is back in town, isn’t he? Get him and slit his cursed throat.” Her hand reached out suddenly and gripped Lorcan’s. “Beware.”
Tanzi glanced apprehensively over her shoulder. Was it possible her father knew who the resistance leader was? Worse, could he know that she had joined them? If so, his revenge against Lorcan would be absolute and vicious. For her—his daughter—death could not be any worse than the marriage plans he had already made for her.
Iphae was speaking again. “Moved the dryad money spinners on, didn’t they? Gone from here, my friends are now.”
Lorcan placed a hand on the girl’s head and her eyelids fluttered. “You have done well, Iphae. It is time for you to rest now.”
“Not to go, sir. Not yet, please...” For a moment her face was a mask of fear. Gradually, she relaxed under Lorcan’s touch and her expression lightened. “Sleep, shall I?”
“Yes, Iphae. You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you, sir.” She lay down again in her casket, her eyes closing like a tired child who had fought slumber for too long.
Lorcan signaled for Tanzi to help him replace the coffin lid. She watched his face as he performed the task. “How do you stand it?” Her voice was husky. She wanted to hold him, but she didn’t know how he would react. Instead, she settled for placing her hand on his forearm.
Lorcan glanced down at her slender fingers where they rested on the sinewy muscles of his arm, but made no comment about the gesture. “It’s what I have to do for them. Listening to them, comforting them, allowing them to share their secrets and unburden their fears. It’s an obligation that was placed upon me when these powers were bequeathed to me. It’s a great responsibility but also a privilege. The final dignity I can bestow on them is to get this part right.”
“You did,” Tanzi said quietly. “Today, for Iphae, you got it absolutely right.”
“Thank you.” A corner of his mouth lifted briefly.
“What now?”
“Now? We steer clear of that bloody place.” He nodded at the blank wall at the end of the crypt. “Whatever their trap is, we’re not walking into it.”
“What about Iphae’s friends?”
“We’ll find them and free them, of course.”
* * *
The talk around the table that night was of the plan to rescue the captured dryads. Pedro was charged with discovering any likely places to which the girls might have been transported. Tanzi, from her habitual seat by the fire, kept her eyes on Lorcan’s face. She thought his eyes revealed hi
s fatigue, but his expression remained determined.
“This is too dangerous for you,” Lisbet insisted. “It seems they know of your presence here. They know you are our leader.”
“How can they know it?” Aydan asked.
“There is only one way.” Lorcan looked at each of the faces around the table. “We have an informer in our midst.”
There was an outcry at that. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Tanzi thought that, in the ensuing series of furious protests, Lisbet cast one or two suspicious glances her way. Eventually, when the matter had been discussed several times over with no clear conclusion reached, they all departed for their separate rooms.
“I know how difficult it is for you to hear of the things his followers have done.” Lorcan paused outside Tanzi’s bedroom door. Even though they were alone, he was careful not to make any direct reference linking her to Moncoya.
“You mean it is hard for me to hear what he has instigated.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment and she continued. “Will I develop immunity over time, do you think?”
“Do you want an honest answer?” She nodded. “Probably not.”
Tanzi sighed. “I fear you may be right. Can I ask you something? About what happened with Iphae?”
“Only if I can sit down while I answer.” His devastating grin dawned. “I’m knackered.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Knackered?”
“An Irish expression. It means done in. Worn-out. Exhausted.” He followed her into her bedroom and sat on the bed.
“Is it practicing your craft that tires you so?” Tanzi glanced around, trying to decide where to sit. The bag containing her clothes—what she now thought of as her “princess kit”—was on the chair. With a feeling somewhere between apprehension and euphoria, she joined Lorcan on the bed, primly maintaining a distance of about twelve inches between them.
“Yes. The mental energy required to commune with the dead drains my strength, and then there is the emotional toll. What did you want to ask me?”
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