Harlequin Nocturne May 2016 Box Set (37 page)

“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

L
orcan 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.”

“Remind me of the exact wording of the prophecy again.” Lorcan accepted a mug of coffee from Stella with a grateful smile.

“When the three-tailed comet returns to Iberia's skies and the brightest star has seen five and twenty harvests, then he who claims the heart of the necromancer star will unite the delightful plain.”
Cal was word perfect. He should be. After all, it was his prophecy. He was the one who had foreseen what would happen.

“Okay, so that was what you predicted...when was it? A thousand years ago?”

“Longer. Probably about fifteen hundred years. But you know I never see the detail of my prophecies. I only get a general feel for what will happen.” Cal's voice was frustrated.

“Yet, in all that time, you've never been wrong. And, vague or not, I know how important the wording is. Ever since you made that prediction, the world—including every ambitious, bloodthirsty leader in Otherworld—was on the lookout for the necromancer star so that they could claim his or her heart and, with it, Otherworld itself.” He grinned at Stella. “Yet you, me darlin' girl—the necromancer star of the prophecy, the one we were all waiting for—chose
him
.”

“I know.” She shook her head teasingly at Cal. “What was I thinking? I had my choice of them all. Moncoya, Prince Tibor, Nevan the Wolf—” She broke off laughing as Cal pulled her down onto the sofa. She curled up next to him, content to listen to the conversation between the two men.

Lorcan continued. “You are the one who has won Stella's heart, Cal. You fulfilled your own prophecy. End of story.”

Cal was adamant. “The words of the prophecy are clear. My job is to unite Otherworld,
not
to rule it.”

“Sure, isn't that just down to a minor interpretation of meaning? You can do both. The other leaders want it. There's no one who could do a better job of it.”

“No. I've discussed it with the angel of the Dominion—”

Lorcan interrupted with an expression of distaste. “You had to go and spoil my day by bringing angels into the conversation.”

“Hear me out. He agrees with me. Moncoya is still a danger. Although the battle eliminated him as an immediate threat, it allowed him to escape and remain as King of the Faeries. He is a king in exile. Perhaps even more dangerous now that he is hidden from view.”

“You're no closer to discovering where he is?” Lorcan didn't really hold out much hope. If Moncoya had been captured, it would have been big news across Otherworld and reached the ears of the resistance in the mortal realm. Nevertheless, it was worth clinging to a thread of optimism. With Moncoya behind bars, Tanzi would be safe. The journey to Valhalla would not be needed. She would have a future. One over which she had control... Determinedly, he forced his mind back onto what Cal was saying.

“Wherever he is, his followers have him well guarded and well hidden. He knows many of the sidhes remain loyal to him. They have known nothing but his rule for centuries, and Moncoya is good at propaganda. The faeries are frightened. They don't know what the future holds. You've heard about the recent terrorist attacks?”

“A little, but I don't know all the details. I take it those responsible are Moncoya loyalists?”

Cal nodded, his face grim. “He's been winding them up, playing on their fears. How will they feel if Prince Tibor, the vampire ruler, becomes King of Otherworld? Worse still, what if the faeries must swear allegiance to the wolves? That could happen, he says, if his people have no strong leader. If they give up their rights. He has made the Alliance the target of his venom, pouring scorn on our efforts to bring the dynasties together. It is a sham, a guise behind which I am plotting to strip the faeries of any power and hand them over to their enemies.”

“Every time I think that evil little bastard can't get any worse, he pulls another stunt to prove he can.” Lorcan shook his head. “Does he give any clues about your supposed motives?”

Cal laughed. “Of course he does. It's all a personal attack on him. I hate him because he's my handsome, successful,
legitimate
brother.”

Lorcan nearly choked on the sandwich he was eating. “You can't let him get away with this.”

“I don't intend to. But in order to stop him, there is someone I must find. Someone I have never met, know nothing about and have no idea how to track down. That's where I need your help.”

“I get all the easy jobs,” Lorcan said in a long-suffering voice. “Who is this mysterious person?”

“The rightful King of the Faeries.”

* * *

“I've been thinking about what I can do to help you.” Vashti was dragging items of clothing out of her wardrobe and either discarding them or folding them into a large gym bag.

“You've done everything I needed you to. You've let me use your shower, fed me and—” Tanzi pointed to the gym bag “—lent or—since I've no way of getting them back to you—
given
me some of your clothes.”

“I might be able to do even more. While you were gone, I did some serious thinking. You can't move around much with a healing pelvis. Reading and pondering are among the few activities available. Do you remember when we were children and Rina would talk to us of the unique connection between faerie twins? She said we should have the most powerful telepathic bond two beings would ever feel.”

“We were a disappointment to her.” Tanzi shook her head in mock sadness. “We never felt it.”

“That was because we didn't really try,” Vashti reminded her. “We were always too busy competing with each other to work together. What if we have the bond and have just never used it?”

“You mean we suppressed it because we've always believed we didn't really like each other?”

Vashti grinned. “Something like that.”

“How would we know? I wouldn't have a clue where to begin.”

“I did a bit more than just think about it,” Vashti confessed. “I asked Rina.”

“You've seen Rina?” Tanzi sat up straighter. “When did that happen? And where?”

“She came to visit me when she heard I had been hurt.”

Tanzi thought of the woman who had brought them up. The only person to show them any care or affection throughout their formative years. It was to Rina they would go when they were injured or troubled. Rina would answer their many questions about what life should be like as a faerie princess. Moncoya had sent her away when they were twelve because he suspected his daughters might be too close to their nurse. Her throat tightened painfully at the memory. The sensation prompted her to ask Vashti a question.

“Have you ever thought that our father was wrong when he told us we were above experiencing emotion?”

Vashti regarded her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Lately I have begun to suspect that I can feel. More than that... I
do
feel. It is just that for so long I was conditioned to believe that fervor, passion—call it what you will—were beneath me. Our lives here in the palace did not expose us to situations where we encountered strong feelings. Or perhaps our father taught us so well that our instinct has always been to crush our emotions at the first sign. But what if we can feel love, hate, despair, joy and sadness in the same manner and depth as everyone else?”

“It would not be the royal way.” Although Vashti held her head high, for the first time in her life, Tanzi saw a glimmer of doubt in her sister's face.

“What if the royal way—or rather, our father's way—is not the right way, after all? We have been the fairy-tale princesses in the tower. Shut away from the world until our prince comes to claim us. Only it wasn't a fairy tale. It was part of a bigger plan. We were being conditioned to accept our prince no matter who he was. I was supposed to go through with marriage to Satan without protest. If I really was above feeling emotion, perhaps I could have done that.” She watched Vashti's face carefully as she made her next suggestion. “If our father comes to you now with the same proposition, will you be the dutiful daughter and marry the devil?”

“No!” The word was filled with revulsion.

Tanzi allowed herself a brief, triumphant smile. She was right. Now she just had to learn to control all these newly discovered emotions. Particularly when she was around a certain Irishman. She steered the conversation back to the subject Vashti had raised. “Maybe that is why we didn't feel the bond. We thought we couldn't
feel
anything. Tell me what Rina said.”