Otherworld Challenger Page 17

  Two mortals dressed in black uniforms emblazoned with the gold Moncoya Enterprises M came into view.

  “Tell me again why we have to patrol the exterior of the casa?” One of them lit a cigarette and paused, looking back along the path in the direction they had come.

  His companion walked over to the wall, tugging on the rope. “This looks like a pretty good reason.”

  “¡Dios!” The first man spat out his cigarette, grinding it into the dusty soil. “We’d better get back and sound the alarm.”

  Climbing the rope was too time-consuming. As soon as the men were out of sight, Vashti—still in her cat disguise—sprang up the wall. Reaching the top, she navigated the razor wire and leaped down the other side, landing in her own form, much to the surprise of Jethro and Aydan, who were hiding in the shadows.

  “No time to explain. Security has found the rope. They will be here in minutes.”

  They took off at a run toward the terrace at the rear of the casa. This was the point at which the two worlds joined. The criteria for entry into Otherworld was easy. For centuries scholars had theorized about Otherworld’s location and agonized over the magic involved in gaining entry. Some believed Otherworld consisted of a series of vast underground caverns. An opposing view held it was an archipelago of enchanted islands, visible only at dusk and dawn. Or could it have been set in some distant planetary dimension beyond the visible stars? Was it under water, guarded by that most powerful of all sorceresses, Niniane, the Lady of the Lake? Or was it a combination of all of these? Did Otherworld move from one location to another according to the mood and whim of the gods?

  Those who resided in the land known to the ancient Celts as the “delightful plain” knew the truth of how to get there. Otherworld was all around, all the time. Anyone could go. All they had to do was know the location of the nearest portal. That, and their belief in Otherworld and desire to go there had to be strong enough to overcome any trace of skepticism.

  Standing on the terrace, looking out over Barcelona, Vashti reached for Jethro’s hand on one side and Aydan’s on the other. Tactile gestures didn’t come easily to her, but time was of the essence and she knew their conviction that they could do this would be strengthened if they made a physical connection. Together they closed their eyes. Vashti shut out the impending danger of discovery and forced herself to concentrate on her home. There was a shout as the security guards rounded the corner. She gripped Jethro’s and Aydan’s hands harder and then opened her eyes.

  The sensation of floating lingered for a few seconds before her surroundings came fully into focus. She spared a moment for the Moncoya Enterprises guards who would forever tell the tale of the intruders who disappeared into thin air. Then the mortal realm was gone. They were standing on a cliff top. Far below them ocean waves tumbled in time with an Otherworld breeze. Behind them, soaring up as though hewn into the rock face itself, the white marble of the faerie palace—now the Alliance headquarters—sparkled in the noonday sun.

  “It would have been easier if we’d found ourselves a tiger and stuck our heads in its mouth,” Jethro commented as they made their way across perfectly manicured lawns toward the palace entrance.

  Even in the short time she had been gone, the defenses around the Alliance headquarters had been ratcheted up the highest level. Ever since the battle for control of Otherworld, a peacekeeping force, led by the elves, had been in place. They took overall responsibility for ensuring the safety of the dignitaries who visited this palace. Elves were never warlike, but they took such duties seriously. For the first time ever, Vashti found her way barred by a lone guard as she tried to enter her childhood home.

  “I am the Crown Princess Vashti of the faerie dynasty.”

  “I still need to see some identification.” The elf guard was apologetic but determined.

  “Send for Merlin Caledonius. He’ll vouch for me.”

  The elf looked shocked. “I can’t send for the Council leader.”

  “What’s going on?” Stella’s voice was a welcome interruption. “Vashti! Why are you waiting out here? Come inside at once.” Stella appeared to have been on her way out to the garden, but she changed her mind and turned back into the palace, leading them with her.

  Stella took them through the main entrance hall and into the sitting room she had claimed as a private space for her and Cal. The man himself was seated at a desk near the window, frowning over a sheaf of papers. When he saw who Stella’s companions were he rose and came forward, a question in his eyes as he looked from Jethro to Aydan and back again.

  Jethro gave a tiny shake of his head, then a slight shrug of his shoulders. Vashti understood the silent communication between the two men. Cal was asking if Aydan was the challenger. Jethro was indicating he didn’t know.

  “This is Aydan.” Jethro stated the obvious. “We’re on our way to Avalon. We stopped off here so you can get that supercharged boat of yours ready for us.”

  “Igraine?” Cal smiled, but Vashti thought he looked tired. “She’s a beauty. One of these days, I’m going to take Stella on a sailing holiday.”

  “Ahem.” Stella patted her stomach. “I think we have to consider young Arthur may not like boats.”

  “Arthur?” Jethro raised his brows. Because Vashti was so in tune with his emotions, she sensed something more in his expression than the faintly mocking inquiry he directed at Cal. “You are going to name your baby after a medieval king?”

  “Oh, come on.” Cal laughed. “He was my best friend, besides being the bravest, truest man I ever knew. I can’t think of a better name for our child.” He frowned as Jethro shook his head. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. Probably some sort of hangover from an encounter we had with Iago and the Sluagh. Take no notice of me.” He forced a smile onto his face with what Vashti knew was a supreme effort. “What if the baby is a girl?”

  “We haven’t thought about that,” Stella confessed. “Guinevere?”

  “No!” Cal and Jethro spoke with one voice, then looked at each other in surprise.

  “Calm down. It was just a suggestion.” Stella raised her eyes heavenward. Linking her arm with Vashti’s, she drew her to one side. “Let’s leave them to it. How are you? I know the prospect of spending time with Jethro worried you. Has it been horrible?”

  “Not as bad as I thought.” Vashti flopped onto a sofa, patting the seat next to her.

  Stella sat, her vivid green eyes scanning Vashti’s face. Those eyes missed nothing. “You seem different.”

  “I haven’t been gone that long.” Vashti tried not to squirm under Stella’s intense gaze.

  “Not physically. You look exactly the same as always. I can’t explain it. It’s a feeling I’m getting from you. As though you’ve changed completely in the short time you’ve been away.” Stella couldn’t know how true those words were.

  “Well, it was pretty hair-raising.” Vashti proceeded to tell her about their encounters with Iago and the drama of Jethro’s ordeal with the Sluagh.

  “I, of all people, have no reason to love your father, after he tried to force me to marry him, but his villainy never ceases to amaze me. Moncoya must have known what Iago was up to. Yet he allowed Iago to go after Jethro even though he knew it would place you in danger.”

  Vashti had never known her mother and, although she and Stella were close in age, the knowledge the other woman cared for her in a maternal way caused a storm of new emotions. For a moment she was afraid that, if she tried to speak, she would disgrace herself and start crying. Only when she was sure she had mastered her emotions did she risk talking. “Nothing my father does surprises me anymore. Not after he escaped from me at knifepoint when we were on Spae. He would have used that knife on me if I’d tried to stop him. That was when I knew for sure how ruthless he is.”

  “Trying to get Tanzi to marry the de
vil was a bit of a clue,” Stella pointed out.

  “True. Murdering our mother wasn’t exactly warm and fluffy.” Vashti sighed. “Yet, if he walked into this room right now, he would light it up in his own unique, larger-than-life way and each of us would be unable to take our eyes away from him. He has that sort of charisma. He does the most outrageous things and yet people only notice his personal charisma. That’s why it’s so important to find this challenger before my father romps all over this election.”

  Stella regarded her in surprise. “I thought you didn’t want this. That you would want to maintain the status quo.”

  “I want the truth. Even if it hurts.” Vashti knew she sounded weary. “And Moncoya will make sure it hurts.”

  Stella glanced across to where the three men were deep in conversation. “What about Aydan? Do you think he is the challenger?”

  Aydan looked fragile in comparison to Jethro and Cal with their muscular strength. Vashti shook her head. “I think not. Jethro is unsure.”

  “He seems nice.” Stella’s expression was way too innocent.

  “Aydan? He is.” Vashti choked back a laugh. “Hey, are you matchmaking?”

  “Trying to. You need someone nice in your life.”

  Vashti’s lips twitched in genuine amusement. If only Stella knew. I don’t need nice. Safe won’t do for me. I need someone edgy and dangerous. She looked up in time to catch the tail end of Jethro’s paint-stripping gaze on her face. I need to be in this state of permanent arousal, knowing he wants me, too. Life with Jethro is never comfortable, but it is always exciting.

  “I’m tired. Do you mind if I go up to my old room?”

  “What am I thinking, keeping you talking like this when you must be exhausted?” Stella rose. “I’ll show you all to your rooms. Cal, you can get things organized so the boat is ready for them to depart first thing in the morning.”

  “Yes, boss.” Merlin Caledonius, the greatest sorcerer the world had ever known, the man about whom more legends had been written than any other, grinned at his wife and went away to follow her instructions.

  “Separate rooms?” Jethro murmured to Vashti as they mounted the stairs in Stella’s wake. His tone made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “I’m not sure I like that idea.”

  She turned her head to look up at him and encountered a scorching light in those dark eyes. “We’ve a long journey ahead of us. You need to rest.”

  His smile was devilish. “I’ll come to your room later, Princess...and show you how wrong you are.”

  * * *

  “You are insatiable.”

  “With you I am.” Jethro’s voice was husky as he pinned Vashti’s arms above her head and pushed deep inside her again. Dawn was tracing lighter fingers across the sky outside and they had slept only briefly. “Although I seem to remember you calling me a few other names not so long ago.” He paused, drinking in her flushed face, her half-closed eyes, the soft sounds of her breathing. God, he loved watching her face as he tipped her over the edge. “What were they now? Ah, yes. I remember. Sanctimonious bastard. Second-rate soothsayer. Arrogant, money-grabbing mercenary.” He punctuated each syllable with a powerful thrust of his hips, driving his cock farther into her. Each movement elicited a gasp from Vashti and her whole body jerked up to meet his, her muscles clenching hard around him.

  “You forgot one.” Somehow she managed to grind the words out. “Wannabe sorcerer.”

  With tormented groan, Jethro released her hands and reached beneath her to grip her buttocks, lifting her so he could open her wider. Vashti wrapped her legs around his waist. His thrusts became frantic in response, pushing them both further and harder. Vashti cried out incoherently as though trying to tell him it was too much but still not enough. Jethro silenced her cries with his lips. He led her, drove her, guided her to ecstasy and claimed her, carrying her until he felt her internal muscles spasm wildly around him before finally relaxing in submission.

  Jethro cried out with his own endless release before pulling out of her and dropping heavily onto her, kissing her forehead. When he had recovered his breath, he moved his weight to her side. He raised himself on his elbow, scrutinizing her face. When had watching her become his obsession? It had sneaked up on him so quickly he had barely noticed it. Vashti’s eyes were slightly unfocused, her breathing still ragged. After a few minutes she turned on her side to face him.

  When she spoke, her voice was shy and strangely un-Vashti-like. “I will miss this.”

  “Hmm?” Absently he ran a finger down the curve of her neck.

  “One way or another, this will soon be over. I will miss these times when it is just the two of us.”

  A frown pulled Jethro’s brows together. The words jolted him out of the warmth and security he always felt after sex with her. It hadn’t occurred to him the end of his mission would mean the end of this. Of them. The thought pierced something inside him. It felt like a reminder of the Sluagh slowly drawing his soul from his body. No. He gazed down into those endless blue eyes with their encircling ring of fire. You don’t know it yet, Princess, but it will never be over for us.

  Big words for a man who didn’t believe in love. Who said anything about love? Two voices went to war inside his head. One seemed to be insisting he should listen to his heart. But when did hearts start talking sense? The other was putting forward a reasoned argument. Vashti wasn’t the sort of woman who wanted flowers and promises. She would understand and accept him for what he was. She wouldn’t want the whole white-wedding thing Tanzi had. They could be grown-ups.

  “Are you okay?” Vashti was regarding him with concern in her eyes. “You look intense.”

  “I’m tired. You’ve worn me out.”

  “I’ve worn you out?” Her voice rose in protest. “It wasn’t me who woke you up three times. And it certainly wasn’t me who woke you with my tongue in your...”

  Laughing, he drew her into his arms, stopping her protests with a kiss. No, he couldn’t do without this—without her—in his life. As for the love thing, he could shut that voice up. He was fairly sure he could.

  Chapter 14

  The early morning was damp and gray with faint rays of sunlight poking through the clouds and tendrils of mist still clinging to the lower levels of the hillside. Vashti shivered and huddled into the thick sweater she wore. The sense of foreboding hadn’t left her. If anything, it was growing stronger by the minute.

  They stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the bay. Cal pointed to a sleek, white sailboat bobbing on the gunmetal waters. “You’ve sailed her before, right?”

  Jethro nodded. “When we took Lorcan to Spae in search of Tanzi.” He grinned. “I know my way around a boat, but I also know that’s no ordinary vessel.”

  “You’re right. That’s Igraine.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Named after King Arthur’s mother. You won’t need the sails. I’ve tinkered with her engines. She’ll take you direct to Avalon and get you there in next to no time.”

  “Tinkered?” Jethro raised a brow.

  Cal grinned and Vashti thought how young and handsome he looked when he smiled. So unlike the white-bearded sorcerer of legend. “I’m good at the old tinkering.”

  “Lorcan said Avalon is a magical isle. It only appears to those who are meant to see it.” Vashti thought Jethro appeared more like an old-world adventurer than ever as he spoke. He stood straight and tall, turning his face to the ocean as the breeze ruffled his hair. She could imagine him as a corsair preparing to set sail on his pirate ship or a medieval knight riding out to do battle. This is what lack of sleep can do to a girl. It makes your imagination run wild.

  Cal’s face was grave. “From what we’ve learned, I think you, of all people, are meant to see it. The shape of the island looks like this.” He traced an outline in the air with his finger. “Three pointed
hills resembling cathedral spires, with the tallest in the center. You won’t be able to miss it.”

  “No matter how much I may want to?” A corner of Jethro’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Don’t worry. If I can see it, I won’t choose to miss it. I have a few scores to settle with Iago.” He flexed his left arm and grimaced.

  Aydan had been standing to one side looking back toward the palace. “Lisbet said she would meet us.” His voice was fretful as he came to join them. “I don’t know what could have happened to her.”

  “Perhaps something came up and she couldn’t get word to you.” Vashti did her best to hide her relief there was no sign of Lisbet. The task ahead was going to be difficult enough as it was. She was fairly sure having Lisbet along wouldn’t have made her life any easier. “I’m sure she would be here if she could.”

  “Unfortunately we can’t wait around for her.” Jethro joined in the conversation and Aydan nodded a glum acceptance.

  Cal drew Vashti slightly to one side. “I have a feeling you, more than anyone, are going to need every ounce of your personal strength during this journey.” His unusual light silver eyes probed her face. “Yet it was never meant to be your mission. Are you still sure you want to go ahead with it?”

  Vashti couldn’t help her gaze going to Jethro’s tall, heroic-looking figure. “He needs me.”

  Cal raised his brows. “Does he know?”

  She laughed. “Have you met him?”

  He grinned appreciatively. “Then all I can do is wish you success.” He seemed to sense her wariness of physical contact, probably because he knew of her strange, affection-starved childhood. So, instead of the requisite hug such occasions generally demanded, he took both her hands in his. “He is a lucky man, even if he doesn’t know it. Or perhaps I should say, even if he will never accept it.”

  The words did something strange to her throat and, unable to answer, she nodded, withdrawing her hands. Stooping to pick up her bags, she raised a hand to Cal in a gesture of farewell before rejoining Jethro and Aydan. As they began to navigate the steps that were hewn into the cliff face, Cal turned and made his way back toward the palace. It seemed too final and Vashti experienced a sudden longing to run to him and beg him to—what? Turn back? Come with them? Shaking her head, she followed her companions down the precarious steps.