Ancient scholars speculated about its location. Was Otherworld a vast underground palace? A series of enchanted, shimmering islands, visible only at dusk and dawn? Was it set in some distant planetary dimension beyond the stars? Was it underwater? Had Niniane, the sorceress known as the Lady of the Lake, created an illusion, disguising the entrance to Otherworld as an earthly lake? Did Otherworld move from one location to another according to the mood and whim of the gods?
The truth was simpler and yet more complex. Otherworld existed everywhere. It was right there, alongside the mortal realm, just out of sight but easily within reach. All that was needed was a knowledge of the location of the nearest portal, a belief in the existence of Otherworld and a desire to go there. The belief and desire had to be strong enough to overcome any doubts, fears or suspicion.
“Mortals don’t have the ability to open their minds.” That was what Rina had told Tanzi and Vashti many years ago. “That is why Otherworld remains closed to them.”
“Ready, Searc?” Lorcan brought her back to the present by resting his hand lightly on her head as she sat on the terrace rail next to him. Unable to resist the temptation, she rubbed her face against his palm and he glanced down at her, his face registering surprise.
She hesitated for a moment. What if I have become infected with mortal skepticism? I may never be able to go back. It was time to find out. Closing her eyes, she conjured up an image of her home, so clear and sweet and sharp it stung the back of her eyelids. She needn’t have worried. When she opened them, she was there. Barcelona had vanished. The sights, sounds and scents of the vast city had been replaced by tumbling turquoise waters crashing onto rocks far below her and cliffs rearing high above her head. She was home.
Tanzi had thought she could be content in the mortal realm. During her stay in the safe house—if anyone had asked her—she would have said that she would be able to stay there forever. Of course she would. Her warrior training meant she had been instructed in survival techniques. She could adjust to any environment, cope with any hardship. And because she was Moncoya’s daughter—and she didn’t do sensitivity—missing the palace where she had lived all her life, her awkward, irascible sister and the servants who had been like an extended family were beyond the scope of her feelings. Yet now, as she breathed the air of Otherworld again, she knew she had been fooling herself. She had missed this place without knowing. Longed for it without understanding the promptings of her own heart.
The sight of the elegant white marble palace set in jeweled gardens and flanked by soaring mountains made her heart quicken with something that, had she been capable of it, might have been called love. The crisp scent of pine, the sounds of distant waves and mournful gulls, these things were in her blood. She was a child of Otherworld. The thought brought with it a new sadness and a new awareness. I must leave this place all over again. Forever. It’s also about time I stopped fooling myself and accepted that I have failed my father in more ways than one. I have no immunity to emotion. It affects me just as strongly as anyone else.
Lorcan, with that unique radar he had for the feelings of others—so different to me. He is attuned to others, while I don’t even know myself—gave her a few minutes alone to drink in the view. When they approached the palace they did so together yet apart. Lorcan was in full view while Tanzi slunk through the longer grass as she had done so many times before in her cat guise. During the battle, part of the palace had been damaged when the Iberian sidhes planted a bomb in one of the four turrets. There were signs that restoration work was now under way. That and the presence of the peacekeeping force led by the elves were the only indications of change. Everything else was exactly as it had been since she was a child. It will continue to look like this when I am gone. She didn’t know whether to be comforted or alarmed by the thought.
“Be careful, Searc.” Lorcan’s continued use of the nickname had a soothing effect on her disordered senses. “I’ll meet you by the lake.”
Tanzi knew from experience that the best way into the castle in her cat form was through the grotto. Padding across the grass to the side of the vast building, she made her way stealthily along the wall until she reached the place she was seeking. As a child this had always been her favorite part of the palace. Moncoya’s designers had created a fantasy area, an artificial cave, with colored lighting and a decorative waterfall. This could be entered from the gardens and Tanzi slid inside. The cave, as she had anticipated, was empty. Counting on the fact that the glass door leading from the grotto to the conservatory was usually open during the day, Tanzi made her way through to the back of the grotto. Sure enough the door was open and, pausing briefly to drink in the spectacular, uninterrupted views of the mountains from the full-length windows, she padded softly through the conservatory and beyond. She was in dangerous territory now, as the corridor leading to the east turret and Vashti’s rooms was a busy thoroughfare used constantly by the servants.
After being forced to hide in the shadows on two occasions to avoid being seen, she managed to make her way up the wide, sweeping staircase and eventually found herself in the circular turret that housed Vashti’s suite of rooms. Another pang of sadness swept through her, and she recognized it for what it was. Homesickness. The opposite wing on the west side of the palace was the one she had called her own.
Resolutely putting aside the thought, Tanzi cast a swift glance around. Reassured that there was no one else here, she cast off her shifter illusion, emerging in her true form to open the door to Vashti’s chambers. Once inside, she paused, leaning against the door for a moment to catch her breath. The sitting room and bedroom were both empty. Beyond that was the bathroom, and her keen ears caught faint noise from that direction. Making her way into the bedroom, she smiled slightly as the sounds became clearer. The shower was running and Vashti’s voice could be heard, lifted in song above the sound of the water. Tanzi tugged off her sneakers and climbed onto the vast, luxurious bed. With a soft sigh of satisfaction, she curled up among the cushions and awaited her sister. It seemed like seconds later that she was disturbed from slumber.
“Where the hell have you been?” The words, each one throbbing with suppressed fury, penetrated the fog of her consciousness.
Tanzi sat up abruptly, biting her lip. So much for being on high alert. “Fell asleep,” she mumbled. As if it wasn’t obvious.
“I can see that. My God, Tanzi, what are you wearing?” Clad in a pristine white robe, with her hands on her hips, Vashti was looking her up and down with an expression that was close to horror.
Fully awake now, Tanzi had time to take in every detail of her sister’s appearance. Vashti’s injuries during the battle had been severe and for the first few days there were real concerns that she might not live. She had sustained internal injuries as a result of a broken pelvis and fractured ribs. Tanzi had helped nurse her, and something in their volatile relationship had changed during that time. A different bond had been forged, even though neither of them had spoken of it.
“You look much better.”
Vashti came and sat next to her on the bed. The way we used to when we were little and Rina would read us a story. Memories were determined to surface. “I am much better.” She drew a deep breath. “Thank you.”
Tanzi looked into the face that was so like—and yet so unlike—her own. Since the battle, Vashti had lost weight, so that the angles of her face were sharper. Her eyes, the same size and shape as Tanzi’s, were lighter and icier, and the blond of her hair, which she wore cropped determinedly short, was a shade or two darker.
For a moment, a hug hung in the balance. It never materialized. They had never been a tactile family. Perhaps if we’d had a different father things might have been easier between us. Tanzi couldn’t recall a single occasion upon which Moncoya had shown physical affection to either of his daughters. He could be lavish with purring praise when they followed his orders to maim or kill
, but hugging had never been part of his parenting agenda.
“So where have you been?”
“Living in a resistance safe house in the mortal realm,” Tanzi stated matter-of-factly, in answer to Vashti’s question.
Her sister blinked once. “Was it nice?”
The unexpected question struck Tanzi as humorous and she began to laugh so hard that she found herself unable to stop. After regarding her in bewilderment for a moment or two, Vashti started to giggle as well, and before long they were both engulfed in helpless gales of laughter. It was sometime later before they were able to resume their conversation.
“So was it a bet? A dare? Some sort of bizarre self-punishment?” Vashti asked when they had finally recovered from their mild bout of mutual hysteria.
Her words had the effect of chasing away any final trace of frivolity from Tanzi’s response. “Have you heard from our father since I left?”
“He managed to smuggle a few messages to me. That reminds me, he is very keen for you to get in touch with him. He wasn’t convinced that I didn’t know where you’d gone.”
“Did he say why he wanted to see me?”
“No, but I’m not stupid. Even if I hadn’t worked out that your disappearance was linked to him, the look on your face right now has convinced me of it. You may as well just tell me what’s going on.”
So, in a few short, blunt sentences, Tanzi did just that. “So if our dear father gets his way, you could be aunt to Satan’s child.”
Vashti’s short, straight nose wrinkled. “He has always had the most grandiose schemes where we are concerned, but that one is unhinged. Even for our father. Mind you—” she cast a sidelong glance at Tanzi from under her sweeping lashes “—I wonder what sort of a lover the devil would be. Fast and fiery, I imagine. What do you think?”
Vashti delighted in making risqué comments, but Tanzi knew the truth. They were both equally inexperienced. Neither of them had ever dared consider defying their father regarding the question of their purity. She shrugged in response to Vashti’s question. “You can find out if you really want to. I’m sure our father would accept you as a substitute. It’s what I came to warn you about.”
Vashti leaned back on the pillows, linking her hands behind her head. “I’ll pass. I’ve no wish to get involved in a love triangle with you and the horny horned one.” She held up a hand in a pacifying gesture at Tanzi’s angry expression. “Okay, it wasn’t funny. So you ran away to live in the mortal world. Why have you come back again?”
“Because our father will have learned of my hiding place by now.” She took a deep breath. “I am going to Valhalla to join the Valkyrie.”
“That’s pretty final.”
“So is relocating to hell.”
Vashti gave this some thought. “True. Do you think she will be there?”
Tanzi interpreted the question to be about their mother. “Will I even know her if she is? She left us when we were babies, remember. Besides, we don’t know for sure that she returned to Valhalla once she walked out on our father.”
“The journey to Valhalla will be fraught with danger. You really shouldn’t attempt it on your own.”
Tanzi bent her head to fiddle with a frayed thread on the worn pair of jeans she was wearing. She hoped the curtain of her hair hid the blush that tinged her cheeks. “Can I get a shower?”
Vashti sat up with an enthusiastic bounce. “Hold on a minute. You won’t be alone, will you?”
“What makes you think that?”
“We’re twins, remember? Plus, your voice is doing that husky, embarrassed thing it always does when you try to hide something from me. Who is he?”
Tanzi sighed. “Lorcan Malone.”
“The necromancer?” Squirming slightly, Tanzi nodded. “The Irish one?”
“Yes.” She risked a glance at her sister’s face. Vashti was grinning like a cat about to torture a mouse.
“The hot Irish necromancer?”
Tanzi squirmed some more, if that was possible. “That’s enough. You’ve had your fun.”
“I haven’t even started yet.”
Tanzi rose from the bed. “I don’t have long. Shower first, then you can get me some food and interrogate me while I eat. Deal?”
Vashti nodded. “Even better. I’ll burn those clothes and lend you some of mine.”
Despite their upbringing, Tanzi did hug her sister then.
CHAPTER 10
Lorcan found Stella in the formal gardens at the rear of the palace. She was seated on a carved wooden bench, with her legs tucked beneath her. She wore headphones and was humming along with a song he didn’t recognize while her fingers flew back and forth over the keys of her laptop. He paused a few feet away, watching her with a smile for a moment. Tiptoeing over up behind her, he removed her headphones.
“I’m not even going to ask how you’ve managed to get Wi-Fi here.”
Stella started in surprise, swinging around to face him. Realizing who it was, she gave a squeal of delight before putting the laptop aside and leaping up from her seat to hug him. “I could explain it, if you want.” When he gave her a baffled look, she continued. “The Wi-Fi thing, it’s quite easy once you know how.”
“I’m happy to let it remain a mystery known only to you computer geeks.” Lorcan held her at arm’s length, smiling down at her. “Ah, but you’re looking wonderful, me darlin’ girl. Marriage obviously agrees with you.”
Cal’s voice interrupted them. “Is this what happens every time I’m gone for more than two minutes? You start cuddling good-for-nothing Irishmen?”
Lorcan turned to face the man who had been his friend for as long as he could remember. The man who had rescued him from the witch finder’s flames and then gone on to save his life more times than he cared to count. The man whose name conjured up a thousand legends. Merlin Caledonius. Known the world over and throughout the mists of time as Merlin...a name the great man himself had always hated. He was Cal to his friends. Tall, muscular and strikingly handsome. Clad in torn and faded jeans and a black vest, the Cal of reality was as far from the white-haired, long-robed, bearded wizard of folklore as anyone could be.
“Where the fuck have you been, Malone?” A frown descended on Cal’s brow as he covered the distance between them.
“Cal!” Stella’s tone was shocked as she swung around toward her husband.
“Sure, isn’t that his standard greeting for me?” Lorcan laughed. “It was what he said when I turned up a few minutes late when that whole sword-in-the-stone challenge was going on. Then he said it again the time King Arthur was in danger because Morgan le Fay and Mordred had arrived at Camelot and I wasn’t there to help. And I clearly remember the same words being used on one occasion when he wanted my support with driving a rogue genie out of Palmyra. Sometimes he varies it and uses ‘What the bloody hell kept you?’”
“It’s a wonder I’m ever able to get a word in to say anything.” Cal rolled his eyes at Stella. “You know how there’s a legend that the Irish kiss the Blarney Stone to give them the gift of eloquence? There’s a postscript. It reads ‘Lorcan Malone needn’t bother.’”
“Ouch.” Lorcan clasped a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “At least I’ve not been using a piece of flint to sharpen my tongue.”
“If you two have finished insulting each other, can we go inside and get a drink like civilized people do?” Stella pleaded, linking an arm with each of them. “And then you can tell us why you’re here, Lorcan.”
“I’m glad you are here at last. There’s something I need your help with.” Cal spoke to Lorcan over Stella’s head as they walked into the palace. “Something that makes Excalibur, the Djinn, even Morgan and Mordred look like a kid’s play fight.”
Lorcan was saved the immediate dilemma of answering as Stella added shyly, “And
we want you here in five months for a very important job.” She slid a protective hand over her stomach. “Our baby will need a sponsor.”
“Ah, isn’t that the grandest news ever?” Lorcan gave Stella another hug and shook Cal’s hand. “You can count on me, big feller.”
“I know it.” The look in Cal’s eyes conveyed much more than the words. Despite his gruff greeting, Lorcan knew that Cal had never once doubted his loyalty. They had been through too much together for it to be in question. Shit. And now, just when he says he needs me more than ever, I’ll have to tell him I can’t stick around.
Moncoya had designed the palace for elegance and aesthetic impact rather than comfort, but Stella had commandeered one of the smaller rooms on the ground floor and made it into a private sitting room for her and Cal. Collecting furnishings from around the palace that she liked and had selected for relaxation rather than grandeur, she had created a cozy haven where they could retreat when the demands of coordinating the new peacekeeping council became too great. While Stella went away to organize refreshments, Cal brought Lorcan up to date with the latest news about the Alliance. It was obvious that Cal still viewed his status as the head of the Alliance of Otherworld dynasties as temporary, even though the other leaders were calling for it to become a permanent presidency. It was also apparent that it was a troublesome and taxing role.
“It’s like living in a hotel where the other guests all have their own agenda and think nothing of knocking on our door at three in the morning to lobby us with their latest idea,” Cal was saying when Stella returned, carrying a tray of coffee, sandwiches and cake. “This palace has become the political hub of Otherworld, and that’s a good thing because it brings all the leaders together in one place and keeps them talking. But it sure as hell is not how I want to spend the rest of my life. Besides, it was never in the prophecy that I would be the one to lead Otherworld.”
Harlequin Nocturne May 2016 Box Set Page 38