Harlequin Nocturne May 2016 Box Set (33 page)

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 his 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?”

Even though his eyelids were drooping with tiredness, he still managed to look utterly adorable. It was very unfair of him. It made concentrating on anything else extremely difficult. “I thought that when the dead were raised they became zombies preying on human flesh. Yet Iphae returned to her coffin peacefully and, in the end, accepted—even welcomed—her death.”

“It's a common misconception. Zombies are undead who are raised against their will. Iphae came to me of her own free choice and, although I suggested she should return to the other side and even exerted some pressure on her to do so, it remained her decision.”

“Do you ever raise the dead against their will?”

“I try not to. Inevitably sometimes I have to, but it's a messy business. Zombies are a bugger to deal with. My turn to ask you something now.” His eyes were probing on her face. “What was so bad back in Otherworld that this is better?”

The question was so unexpected that Tanzi gasped. Yet she
should
have been expecting it. Especially now that they suspected someone was passing their secrets on to the sidhes. “Do you think I am the one who betrayed you?” She tried to keep her voice level so that the hurt didn't show.

“Funnily enough, that never even occurred to me.” He closed the distance between them, catching hold of her hands. “I trust you, Tanzi, truly I do. I just thought perhaps it was time to tell me. Because, and maybe I'm wrong, I sense it eating away at you. I know we've been over the fact that I'm a lowly necromancer, you're a royal princess, and we're worlds apart many times, but I want to help you if I can.”

Her throat felt suddenly tight, as though his kindness had triggered a warm emotion that was threatening to choke her. She nodded. “Let me get a drink and I will tell you.” She owed him the truth.

Rising, she went over to the dresser and poured a glass of water from the bottle Maria had placed there. She kept her back to Lorcan as she drank, attempting to restore some of her lost equanimity. When she felt that her composure had returned sufficiently, she turned around. A slight smile touched her lips at the sight that greeted her. There would be no confidences tonight. Lorcan was stretched full-length on her bed, sound asleep.

CHAPTER 6

L
orcan woke in the middle of the night with a feeling of well-being, which was soon explained when he realized his arms were full of Tanzi. It was a situation that did nothing for someone with an overactive imagination and a currently underactive cock. Ascertaining that they were both fully clothed and, from his memory of the previous night, being fairly certain that nothing had happened between them, he eased himself regretfully away from her. She gave a soft little murmur of protest in her sleep, and his erection responded to the sound by jackhammering uncomfortably against the restraining cloth of his jeans.

Why couldn't he do the uncomplicated thing for once in his life and lust after a nice, straightforward girl? Someone he could actually have? The troublesome thing was, he was fairly certain he
could
have Tanzi. He sensed that the intense physical attraction he felt for her was mutual. But that wouldn't make it right. It was wrong on so many levels. His internal mantra started to kick in... Moncoya's daughter, sidhe princess, Valkyrie warrior. The words had become tired and meaningless so he silenced them. Yes, she was still all of those things. This rift with her father didn't change what she was, it only made her vulnerable. A sweet, vulnerable killing machine.
You don't want to mess with one of them, Malone.

He thought of all the things he'd heard about Tanzi and her sister, Vashti, over the years. Setting aside their reputation as Moncoya's ruthless weapons, it was said that the King of the Faeries viewed his daughters as his stepping-stone to even greater power. He boasted that through them he would forge alliances to make the faerie dynasty invincible. In order for that to happen, the sidhe princesses must remain pure until such time as their father would choose a mate for them. Woe betide the man who touched one of Moncoya's daughters before she reached her marriage bed.
I'm not afraid of yon faerie feller, but I'll not put his daughter at risk from his wrath. Not for the sake of a one-night stand.

Because that was all it would ever be. A one-night stand. Or maybe a series of them. A brief fling.
I haven't got it in me to offer her more.
The thought brought with it a pang of regret. Lorcan made jokes about being a wanderer, the implication being he never settled. Love 'em and leave 'em Malone. It was a myth he didn't deny. On the contrary, he cultivated it. Only Lorcan himself knew the truth. Something in his heart had been damaged beyond repair way back in the dim and distant past. That capacity others had for sustained emotion—he supposed it was called commitment these days—wasn't part of his makeup. It had burned at the stake, while he had sobbed and pleaded for help that never came.

Why was he thinking of commitment in relation to Tanzi, anyway? Just because she happened to be bloody gorgeous and, at this precise moment, deliciously inviting. His inner nice guy—and, yes, he did have one—was attempting to justify the crushing desire he felt to draw her back into his arms, wake her with a kiss and then let his fingertips glide up between the silken flesh of those slender thighs.
Stop being such a bloody hypocrite. You're not fooling anyone. You are trying to defend the fact that you want to fuck this gorgeous girl by making it into something more than mere lust.
It didn't help that Tanzi was wearing some sort of elongated T-shirt that had rucked up as she slept, revealing the very thighs that were fueling his imagination in an erotic and interesting way. Determinedly, Lorcan gritted his teeth. Sliding from the bed, he pulled a blanket over Tanzi's prone form. Out of sight, out of mind. That was the theory.

Feeling very virtuous—but oddly bereft—he tiptoed out the door and made his way to his own room. Despite his tiredness, he was unable to sleep. The dawn light saw him pulling on his clothes and taking out his frustrations by jogging the length of the Ramblas before following the harbor toward the Barceloneta Beach. He ran until the ache in his muscles drove every other thought from his mind. This was better. He couldn't afford any distractions.

The house was still quiet when he returned. He headed for the shower, then spent a long time letting the jets of cool water drive any lingering traces of heat and temptation from his body. He stayed there so long that the ancient pipes creaked and groaned and threatened to tear the old house apart. When he emerged, drying his hair on a towel, Tanzi was standing framed in the open door of her room, blinking sleepily in the early-morning sunlight. The elongated T-shirt skimmed her thighs and the bright mass of her hair tumbled wildly about her shoulders. She smiled when she saw him and then stretched her arms lazily above her head. The T-shirt rose precariously higher.

“I was disturbed by strange clanking noises,” she explained.

Shit.
The run and the shower hadn't worked one bit. Her presence hit him like an injection of carnal longing direct into his bloodstream. It fizzed into his nerve endings, making him feel alive in a way he couldn't remember ever having felt before. Whatever Tanzi was, she wasn't a mere distraction. She was something far more dangerous and disturbing, and it was going to take more than physical exertion and cold water to flush her out of his system.

* * *

“This is definitely the house where the girls are being held.” Aydan had been the one to survey the building identified by Pedro as the most likely place for the sidhes to keep their dryad prisoners. “But it is closely guarded.”

Of course it was.
The sidhes would take no chances with their lucrative prisoners. “By what?” Lorcan asked with no expectation of liking the answer.
Let it be something simple like a pack of rabid attack dogs.

“Zombies.” Aydan's throat gave an audible click as he swallowed. He attempted a brave smile. “Just as well we have a necromancer with us, eh?”

“I hate to disillusion you. If I didn't summon these zombies, I can't command them.” That wasn't strictly true. Zombies were undead, so Lorcan could exercise a measure of control over them. As long as their true master wasn't around. If he or she was close by, then things could get very messy.

Aydan was moving forward now, beckoning for Lorcan to follow. With a resigned sigh, Lorcan accompanied him along the outer edge of the high, rugged wall that marked the border of the property. The others in the group were in the truck under the shade of a nearby copse of olive trees awaiting their instructions. Aydan led the way to a gap in the wall, through which they had a clear view of the house. The building was a rambling, seemingly uninhabited farmhouse. Built on two floors, it had a wide, paved porch running all the way around the outside. The walls were built from the rough terra-cotta stone that was common throughout the area, and the windows were tiny squares set in heavy dark wood frames. It was impossible to tell what was going on behind their blank stare. According to the resistance sources, and from what Aydan had gleaned on his reconnoiter, there were five dryads being held captive inside. Five innocent, frightened girls like Iphae. Lorcan felt his lips thin into a determined line. An encounter with zombies would be a small price to pay if they could get those girls home to their families.

Aydan pointed to the building. “The dryads are all together in one room at the back of the property. Yesterday I counted four sidhes coming and going at different times. Things are fairly low-key. They probably don't imagine these girls are going to cause them many problems.”

“To be fair, if they have zombies as watch dogs they don't need much additional manpower.” Lorcan looked around at the rolling countryside. There were no other buildings in view and they had driven their ancient open-backed truck over a dusty track for at least half an hour after they left the main road. “And this place is so isolated no one is going to stumble across it by chance.”

“Could it be a trap?”

“How will we know unless we walk into it?” Lorcan laughed at Aydan's horrified expression. “Let's get the others over here. Go over the plan of attack.”

Aydan left him and returned a few minutes later with Iago, Tanzi, Lisbet and two young Iberian sidhes, Sam and Iker, who were active resistance members. Lisbet's face wore a sour expression. Tanzi gave Lorcan one of her dazzling smiles and the reason for Lisbet's bad mood become clear. The two young faeries were clearly smitten with Tanzi, although the object of their interest appeared oblivious to their admiring gazes.

“Aydan and I will go in through the front door.
Searc
, you come with us. Iago and Lisbet will take the back entrance.” Lisbet opened her mouth as if she was about to protest, but Lorcan turned away to talk to Sam and Iker. He didn't have time for a debate. “You guys stay outside and act as lookout. Warn us if anyone comes.”

Without any further discussion, he followed the wall, gesturing for the others to follow him. When they reached an arched gateway, Lorcan paused. The wooden gates hung loosely on their hinges and several of the scarred panels were missing or damaged. The gates swung inward with a protesting groan when Lorcan pushed against them. He was about to step through when Tanzi's hand on his arm forestalled him.

“Let me go first.” She kept her voice low so that the others couldn't hear.

“Like there's a chance in hell of that happening.”

“Think about it,” she urged. “If there are any of my—” she broke off, biting her lip “—any of Moncoya's sidhes in there, I am the last person they will be expecting to see. Whatever else they do, they certainly won't attack me.”

Reluctantly, he was forced to acknowledge the truth of what she was saying. Sending Crown Princess Tanzi in through that gate was the best possible diversion they could throw at a group of Moncoya's sidhes. So why was he hesitating? Why was he standing here trying to find reasons not to do as she asked instead of putting the safety of the whole group first? And why was he tempted to come up with an excuse to send Tanzi back to the truck to wait it out until the danger was over when she was probably the most experienced and deadly fighter of them all?

“Lorcan? Is there a problem?” Lisbet's strident voice brought him back down to earth.

“No problem,” he called back over his shoulder. “As for you...we'll go together.” He held out his hand to Tanzi.

“I don't need you to protect me, necromancer.” It was her stubborn, haughty-princess voice. The one she had used to try to squash him during their first encounter on the battlefield. The one that always turned him on a little bit, even in this situation.

“Have you ever considered that
I
might be the one who needs
you
?” Taking advantage of her look of surprise, he grabbed her hand and marched through the gates, keeping Tanzi close by his side. Steeling himself for any eventuality, he got the last one he had anticipated. Nothing. Only silence, stillness and a pervading air of menace greeted them.

Once inside the boundary walls, the property looked even more run-down and neglected. Nature had reclaimed the garden and run riot among the flower beds. The path that led to the front door was only just discernible through the weeds that had crept between the flags. If anyone was watching from behind those blank windowpanes, they made no move to stop them as Lorcan and Tanzi made their way along the path and approached the shallow steps of the porch. Aydan followed close behind, with the rest of the group bringing up the rear.

“The door is open,” Tanzi pointed out as they mounted the steps.

“Which means they've either gone, or they are expecting us.” Lorcan moved to one side of the door, keeping Tanzi with him, while Aydan took the opposite side.

Wet shuffling sounds and the smell of rotting flesh indicated that the zombies were within. Of all the undead beings he dealt with, zombies were Lorcan's least favorite. Mindless, soulless and flesh-eating, they had no redeeming qualities. Vampires were charismatic, werewolves loyal, ghosts often kindly and sometimes humorous. Zombies didn't even have their own personal hygiene sorted out.

Lorcan nodded and the three of them entered the house together. They were in a large, old-fashioned farmhouse kitchen, devoid of all but the most basic items of furniture. Half a dozen zombies were gathered around the edge of the room and, at the sight of the intruders, they began their distinctive stumbling walk toward them, hands extended and heads down.

“Oflinnan.”
Lorcan issued the order for the zombies to halt. To his relief, with much snuffling and grunting, they stopped. You just never knew with zombies. If the necromancer who raised them was close by, they would remain under the influence of their master and refuse to obey the commands of another. Behind Lorcan, Aydan exhaled loudly with relief. Tanzi wrinkled her nose and drew closer to Lorcan.

Although the zombies halted, they continued to mutter and scuff their feet, like images paused on an old TV screen. From elsewhere in the house the sound of several loud crashes indicated that Iago and Lisbet might not have found it so easy to gain access to the property.

“Let's find the room where the girls are being held.” Something about the whole setup—even beyond that of the zombies and the accompanying scent of putrefaction—was making Lorcan uneasy. For someone who had spent most of a very long life denying his intuition, he found it had a tendency to surface at the oddest moments. However much he might dislike and try to ignore his inner voice, it was unerringly right. And it was telling him now to get out of this place.

Aydan led the way out of the kitchen and into a gloomy hallway. This was dominated by a wide staircase that looked as though time and woodworm had done their worst. From somewhere beyond the hall, Lorcan heard Lisbet's voice raised in a sudden, panicky cry. Without conferring with his companions, Aydan threw open a door on the opposite wall and dashed across a large, empty room. Keeping a firm grip on Tanzi's hand, Lorcan followed. Beyond this room, he could see a gallery running the length of the rear of the house. Seated on the floor, with their backs to the wall, their hands tied behind them and their feet bound, were the five young dryads. In front of them, Iago lay on the floor, apparently unconscious, with Lisbet kneeling beside him.