Otherworld Protector

by Jane Godman

  “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.”

  Chapter 7

  Stella slumped into a seat in the café. Despite the fact that she had not eaten for—she frowned in an effort to concentrate—over twenty-four hours, the sight of the tea and muffin Cal placed in front of her caused her stomach to pitch and roll uncomfortably. And it wasn’t just the lack of food, of course. A night with no sleep and the need for a long, hot shower were also taking their toll. Oh, and the vicious, bloodthirsty faeries who were on her trail. Yep, that lot would destroy your appetite anytime.

  “Eat it.” Cal’s voice was stern as she pushed the plate aside.

  “Where are we again?” She hadn’t really taken much notice of the signs as, wearily, she’d followed him from the train after a five-and-a-half-hour journey.

  “Carmarthen.” Stella regarded him blankly and he elaborated. “It’s in South Wales.”

  “I know where it is. I just don’t understand why we’re here.” There was a rising note of unaccustomed fretfulness in her voice. Stella didn’t like it and decided to drown it with tea. The brew was strong and slightly too hot. Its effect was revivifying and she sat up straighter.

  “It’s on our way.” The café was set in a side street adjacent to the station. It was the first place they had come across after leaving the train. It was quiet now and Stella couldn’t imagine that it would get much busier once lunchtime arrived in the next hour. Two elderly women lingered over tea and cake at a table near the window and a man in overalls was reading a newspaper and eating bacon and eggs. The proprietor, a sour-faced woman, who appeared to derive very little joy from her chosen business, was watching the news on a television set with the sound turned down.

  “On our way. That’s really helpful, Cal. On our way to where exactly?” The tea had gone some way toward restoring her appetite and Stella bit into the muffin. Its sweetness jarred her teeth but she could almost feel it sending a boost of energy directly into her bloodstream.

  “The only place where I know for sure I can keep you safe.”

  “Cal, I really cannot get my head around this. If I am a necromancer—let alone the necromancer of Merlin’s prophecy—wouldn’t I have known about it before now?”

  He took her hand and Stella was conscious of the muffin crumbs and stickiness adhering to her fingers. His eyes, those beautiful, strange eyes, were probing her face. Wanting something from her, but she wasn’t sure what. “Don’t you know it?”

  She started to shake her head, then stopped. His expression caught her attention and snagged on something deep inside her subconscious. It was as if a domino knockdown had been set in motion inside her head. One tiny memory triggered another, until the whole series fell into place. “Oh, my God, Cal.”

  His voice was infinitely gentle. “When you were four years old, not long after your parents died, you were placed with a family in Suffolk. Do you remember?”

  “I’m starting to.” Don’t make me do this. The images, so long buried, were scrambling to the surface now with a vengeance.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Stella. You just told them what you saw.” Cal ran his thumb back and forth over her hand.

  Unshed tears burned her eyes. “Imagine how they felt, those people who took me into their home. Their own little girl had died six years earlier. She was run over, and they couldn’t have any more children. They were supposed to be my forever family. Instead, on my very first night in their home, I told them I’d seen their daughter standing at the foot of my bed. I knew her name, described every horrific detail of her injuries—” she gulped in a mouthful of air “—I told them she blamed them for her death. No wonder they couldn’t launch me back to the children’s home fast enough.” She blinked the tears away. “How did I manage to shut that out of my mind for all these years?”

  “Because it was bad. Because you didn’t want to remember something that hurt you so much.”

  She hung her head. “It wasn’t the only time.”

  “No. It’s the reason you never found a permanent home.”

  Stella gave a wobbly laugh. “And I thought it was because I couldn’t stay out of trouble.”

  “I think that was a big part of it, too. No one knew how to handle the little whirlwind who flooded their house or painted their dog blue and then ha
d long conversations with their dead grandma.”

  “Except you. You never abandoned me.”

  He reached out a hand and ran his knuckles down her cheek. His touch heated her face as though there was some residual fire remaining from all the flame-throwing antics back at the airport. “I never will.” He laughed, lightening the mood. “I happen to think the world needs more blue dogs.”

  Stella studied one of her hands as if she had never seen it before. It was the hand she knew so well. Small, with artistically narrow fingers and neat, unvarnished nails. It was hard to believe it was the same hand that had wreaked havoc on the sidhes just hours earlier. “So I really am a necromancer? I’ve been so successful at hiding those instincts that allow me to see dead people that I’d almost forgotten I had them. But there must be a world of difference between that and being able to summon the spirits of the dead, surely?”

  “It’s simply a matter of honing the skills you already have. Even the finest necromancers have to practice their art.”

  “I still don’t understand how Moncoya made the link between Merlin’s prophecy and me.”

  “He has been looking for you for a very long time. He knew, of course, when the three-tailed comet would come. And he thinks you sent him a sign.”

  “Me? No way...wait. Oh, hell. It must be the game, ‘Supernova Deliverance.’” Stella pulled in another deep, steadying breath. Cal took hold of her hand again, and the warmth of his palm on hers was comforting. She focused on that. “When I wanted to crowd fund the game, Moncoya saw an outline of my idea. That was what prompted him to offer me the job. The main character has powers like those you described and...well, let me show you.” She took out her phone. Before she could get the game up on the screen, the woman behind the counter turned the television volume up louder, distracting her.

  “Manchester airport remains closed after a possible terrorist attack early this morning.” The news anchor’s brisk tones accompanied images of a line of fire engines outside the multistory parking garage’s smoke-damaged exterior. “Details remain unclear and police have said it is too soon to speculate about who is responsible. They wish to speak to this man and woman in connection with the incident.” Images of Cal and Stella checking in at Girona airport filled the screen. The images were grainy, but unmistakable. “The public are urged not to approach this couple, who may be armed, but to contact the police immediately with any information.”