Otherworld Challenger (14 page)

“My turn now,” she murmured, using the heel of her hand to push him onto his back.

Copying the movements he had used, she inched her way down his body, undoing the buttons of his shirt, then the zipper of his jeans on the way. His stomach muscles tensed and trembled as she trailed her fingernails lightly over his skin. Impatiently, Jethro pushed his jeans and briefs down over his hips and legs before kicking them aside. The full, impressive length of his cock sprang free, straining toward her mouth. His crisp chest hair tickled her cheek as, with tantalizing slowness, Vashti moved her lips lower. She followed the line of hair down from his chest, across his defined abs, to the tip of his cock. Jethro's breathing became ragged. The musky aroma of his arousal filled her nostrils and she breathed it deep. Licking her lips, Vashti swirled her tongue around the head of his cock. Jethro quivered violently, a moan spilling from between his lips as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Opening her mouth, she flexed her jaw, taking his full length, inch by inch. He was so hard, so big, so magnificent. His heady scent and spicy taste were glorious. Releasing him, she flicked her tongue along his length, then took him back in her mouth, following her instincts. Jethro's stomach muscles clenched and shuddered in time with the bobbing of her head. His groan reverberated around the room as he came, his body juddering and shaking wildly before coming to a standstill.

Vashti crawled back up the bed, curling into the security of his arms. She must have dozed because it seemed to be only minutes later that Jethro was easing away from her and righting his clothing.

“I get the feeling Maria will take no prisoners if we miss dinner,” he explained.

Vashti sat up, stretching and yawning. She didn't want to do this. It wasn't just the overwhelming feeling of fatigue caused by days of traveling. An insistent, crawling feeling of dread was telling her she really did not want to go back down those stairs.

“Ready?” Jethro was watching her, a hint of concern dawning in his eyes.

She forced herself to smile. “Of course.”

* * *

Dinner was delicious. The food simple and plentiful. Aydan introduced them to the group of resistance fighters around the table and one or two curious glances were sent Vashti's way. She couldn't blame them. These people dedicated their lives to fighting Moncoya. Now, all of a sudden, they found themselves sharing a meal with his daughter. It didn't make for an easy atmosphere.

The meal was almost over when Lisbet joined them. She slid silently into the empty seat next to Aydan, scarcely glancing at anyone else and keeping her eyes fixed on her plate of food. Fascinated by the woman's strange demeanor, Vashti kept one eye on Lisbet while listening to the conversation around her. For some reason she could tell Lisbet's behavior was out of character.
In the same way I know Aydan is honest and brave, I know Lisbet is not this shy, retiring wallflower. The change is a direct result of our arrival. Or rather, it is a result of Jethro's arrival.

Because she was observing Lisbet so closely, Vashti noticed how often the other woman's curious, dark eyes were focused on Jethro's face. Each time she looked his way, Lisbet lowered her eyes swiftly, as though conscious she might give her thoughts away. Although she did her best to maintain a timid and downcast aspect, each time she looked at Jethro, Lisbet's face glowed.

“Have you met Lisbet before?” Vashti asked Jethro later as they cleared the plates and no one else was nearby.

“Which one is Lisbet?” His brow furrowed as he studied the group of three women and four men. Since his response was an answer in itself, Vashti didn't pursue the matter any further.

Once the meal had been cleared away, Maria produced bottles of beer and rich red wine before leaving them to talk. The group discussed the latest atrocities committed by Moncoya's followers. Although it no longer surprised Vashti to learn of her father's evil activities, it still stirred up a worm of discomfort whenever his malevolence was revealed.

“He is becoming bolder,” Aydan said, filling glasses with the ruby wine. “It is said Moncoya knows there is no true opposition to his rule. Once the faeries are given the vote, he will be returned to power. And he will be stronger and more ruthless than ever.”

“His destruction here in the mortal realm will be even more devastating.” Lisbet spoke for the first time. Her voice was low, musical, and completely different to the way Vashti had imagined it would sound. “The trafficking and degradation we work so hard to wipe out now will be rampant once his own people have given him their seal of approval.”

Vashti had learned from Tanzi much of the work of the resistance involved rescuing those beings Moncoya's followers trafficked between Otherworld and the mortal realm. The resistance faced a never-ending battle to shut down the brothels Moncoya's sidhes operated within the mortal realm. These loathsome establishments operated a personalized service for clients who could afford their extortionate prices. Moncoya had established a system whereby his henchmen would abduct a being from Otherworld, bring them to one of his brothels and force them to work there, obeying every whim of the client who had selected them.

“Moncoya's lackeys are no longer making any pretense at covering their tracks here in the mortal realm. And their terrorist activity in Otherworld is becoming more frequent. There were two attacks in wolf territory recently and Moncoya's followers were daring enough to stage a siege in the vampire domain. Prince Tibor was on it in an instant, but the fact they went there speaks volumes.” Aydan shook his head. “Moncoya is making a statement. He's on his way back and he wants the world to know it.”

As the conversation continued, Vashti's discomfort grew. Not because of the continued vitriol toward her father. That was bad enough. The greater source of her unease was Lisbet. Although her behavior continued to be discreet, there was no doubt about it. Lisbet was totally enthralled by Jethro.
I am not jealous. I have no right to be. He is not mine.
There was something deeper in the glances Lisbet cast Jethro's way, something that spoke of more than longing. Each time Lisbet looked at Jethro—and, as the night wore on, she looked at him increasingly more often—her eyes blazed with a combination of elation and triumph.

There was someone Vashti had to consult and there was no time like the present. Murmuring to Jethro she was tired, she left the kitchen and made her way up to their room. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, she tried to clear her mind of every thought except one.

Tanzi.

Vashti focused on her sister. Surely she should feel closer to Tanzi here than anywhere? It wasn't so very long ago Tanzi had fled to this place, seeking refuge with Lorcan when she tried to escape Moncoya's plans to force her into marriage with the devil. When they were growing up, Moncoya had encouraged their fiercely competitive natures, and as a result they had never been close. It was only in the last few months, since that whole wedding-to-Satan fiasco, that they had discovered a new bond. And with that relationship had come the realization they also had the most powerful psychic connection of all. They could communicate telepathically no matter how far apart they were. It was a gift unique to faerie twins and one they might never have discovered if it wasn't for their father's rabid, out-of-control ambition.
He did something good for us, after all. Unintentionally, it had to be said, but he brought us together. If he hadn't tried to sell Tanzi to the devil in that megalomaniac way of his, we might have spent the rest of our lives believing we hated each other.

Tanzi, can you hear me?

The response was instant, almost as if Tanzi had been waiting for her.
Vashti, where are you?

In Barcelona, at the safe house.

Have you murdered Jethro yet?

How long ago it seemed, that time when she hated Jethro!
No, he is here with me. We've found Aydan, and we're on our way to Avalon.

Be careful.

I will. I need to ask you about someone. Aydan said when you were here you knew his girlfriend, Lisbet. Tell me about her.

Are they together now? That's a surprise. I always thought she had a thing for Lorcan. She's got the personality of a prodded wasp, but maybe that's because she suspected I had been sent by our father to destroy the resistance.

What do you know of her background?

Nothing at all. Why?

Vashti sighed. Maybe she was reading too much into this niggling feeling about Lisbet. Maybe—heaven forbid—she really was jealous because the other woman was showing an interest in Jethro.
No reason. She struck me as a little strange, that's all. How are you?

By the time Vashti had listened to an enthusiastic account of Tanzi's marriage, her developing pregnancy and life on the Isle of Spae, she could hear the others making their way up the stairs. She said goodbye to her sister as Jethro entered the room. He looked weary, but also elated.

“I've spoken to Aydan about our mission. He's going to come to the palace with us to meet Cal before we set off for Avalon.” He sat on the bed, stripping off his sweater.

“How did you persuade him to do that?”

“I used the story Lorcan suggested. Now Lorcan has stepped down, Cal is on the lookout for someone trustworthy to take his place. I said Lorcan had recommended Aydan. No self-respecting anti-Moncoya faerie is going to turn down the chance to work alongside the great Merlin Caledonius himself.” He stretched and yawned. “Even better than that, Aydan is going to accompany us to Avalon.”

Vashti had been slightly distracted by the rippling muscles that were revealed as Jethro stripped down to his underwear, but he gained her full attention at that. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he wants to help find the challenger. He doesn't know, of course, about Tanzi's theory he might actually be the person we are seeking. But, think about it. The Goddesses of Fate said the truth would be revealed on Avalon. If Aydan
is
the challenger, we need him with us to find out.”

Personally, Vashti thought they were pinning too much on the slim possibility of Aydan being the lost heir.
Just because he's a faerie who doesn't look like a faerie and Lorcan knows him. We could be in danger of focusing our attention on Aydan and allowing the real challenger to pass us by.
She still felt unaccountably dispirited. “Sounds like a plan.”

Vashti hoped her voice did not reveal the fact she was less than eager about this whole scheme. Since their arrival in Barcelona, it was as if a blanket, gossamer-light as a spider's web yet dark as the desert skies, had been wrapped around her heart. She couldn't shake the feeling something was very wrong.
No, not since our arrival in Barcelona. Since we met Lisbet.

Hard on the heels of that thought, Jethro's next words destroyed any final trace of enthusiasm she might have felt about the journey to Avalon. Along with any hope it might end well. “Oh, and Lisbet is coming with us.”

Chapter 13

L
a Casa Oscura.
The Dark House. Only Moncoya could be arrogant enough to flaunt its function by naming his mortal dwelling place after its true purpose. There were many portals between the mortal realm and Otherworld. They were accessible only to those who knew of their existence. Most were innocuous. Dark houses were the flip side of those harmless entry points. Dark houses hid Otherworld's sleazy secrets, the portals used by Moncoya's followers to traffic beings between worlds and escape justice. Older than time, they were the gateway to an underbelly darker than the pit of hell itself.

All of it carefully orchestrated by my father, the maestro.
The thought made Vashti grimace as she viewed the beautiful, quirky house clinging to the hillside high above the city. Bizarrely, she had never viewed La Casa Oscura from this angle. In the past, Moncoya had sent his daughters into the mortal realm with precise instructions about who they were to kill, attack or kidnap. They saw little of the mortal realm and were not permitted to interact with anyone other than their chosen target...for whom the outcome wasn't pretty.

“La Casa Oscura is unique,” Aydan explained. “Unlike most portals, it serves several purposes. As well as being a dark house, it is also a direct link to the royal palace and it is the mortal headquarters of Moncoya Enterprises. Let's not forget that, until he was forced into hiding following the battle for control of Otherworld, Moncoya was able to maintain a mortal identity. As well as being King of the Faeries, he was also Ezra Moncoya, electronics billionaire.”

“We never knew.” Vashti shook her head in amazement. “Tanzi and I only learned of his double life after he went into hiding.”

“So how do we get in?” Jethro scanned the terra-cotta rooftop that peeked out above the trees. They were standing across the street from the casa, slightly to one side of the main gates. “This side is the problem. Once we are in, and can get to Otherworld, Cal is in charge and entering the palace won't be a problem.”

“Moncoya Enterprises's security systems are said to be the most sophisticated in the world. Ordinarily, there is no way we would get through those gates.” Aydan gave them a mischievous grin. “But one of our resistance members works this shift, so we're in luck. He will have turned off the cameras on the rear wall. I hope you two are good at climbing.”

Jethro groaned, flexing his injured arm. “It's not my favorite activity right now. By the way, where's Lisbet?”

“She had things to finish up back at the safe house. She said she'll meet us when we depart for Avalon. Ready?”

“As I'll ever be.” Jethro caught hold of Vashti's hand, his eyes probing her face as if he sensed her mood. “You?”

She nodded, swallowing the tight feeling of apprehension that threatened to block her throat. What was wrong with her? Not so long ago she had dreaded entering the mortal realm, now she was dismayed at the prospect of leaving it.

Fear of the unknown. That is what you are experiencing. First of the mortal realm, now of Avalon. Get a grip, Vashti.

What had happened to the ferocious warrior princess? Had she ever existed or was she a figment of Moncoya's overactive imagination? In a way, it was comforting to know she was not an automaton.

Although, it has to be said, you do pick your moments to have these flashes of in-depth soul-searching.

They made their way along a path to the rear of the building. The tree-covered area of the hillside had been allowed to grow wild and lethal-looking shrubs scratched at Vashti's arms as they forced their way through to the rear of the casa. The section of wall Aydan indicated loomed over them. Made from rough, terra-cotta brick, it was at least ten feet high and topped with razor wire.

“We're supposed to climb that?” Vashti tilted her head back, regarding the obstruction before them with a daunted expression.

“It's not as bad as it looks.” Aydan, ever the optimist, pointed to a length of rope hanging down from the coping stones at the top of the wall. “Our contact on the inside left that for us.” Jethro and Vashti remained silent, their faces twin masks of doubt. “I'll go first, shall I?”

When no answer was forthcoming, Aydan rolled up his sleeves and spat on his hands. Grasping the rope, he commenced walking his feet up the wall while using his hands to haul himself up. In minutes he was at the top and navigating the razor wire. He gave them a grin and a thumbs-up before dropping down the other side.

“Will you be able to do this?” Vashti indicated the rope. “Your arm isn't fully healed.”

“I guess there's only one way to find out.” Jethro grimaced.

“You go next. I need to know you're okay.”

Jethro paused, looking down at her. Something shifted in the depths of his eyes. Vashti knew it was because she'd told him she cared. Even though it was a tiny fraction of what she could have said, it tilted the balance of their relationship.
Not now. Not here.
Her eyes pleaded with him.
We don't do this.
Jethro gave an infinitesimal nod. The gesture was much more than agreement with her suggestion. It told her he knew what she was feeling.
Let's save this conversation for another time and place. Like when I'm not the daughter of the most hated man in either world and you know who you are and what you want.

Unexpected, unaccustomed tears burned the back of her eyes. “Go. Aydan is waiting for us.”

Jethro shook his head. His smile was irresistible. “Bad timing.”

He caught hold of the rope, scaling the wall as Aydan had done. His progress was slower and Vashti could tell from the way he favored his left arm he was struggling. She bit her lip, willing him to reach the top safely, exhaling a long, relieved breath when he finally gripped the coping stones and pulled himself clear of the razor wire. Giving her a wave, he disappeared over the other side just as Vashti heard the bushes rustle with the unmistakable sound of someone approaching.

Dropping into a crouch, she shifted instantly and easily, transforming herself into a black cat and slinking into the cover of the surrounding shrubs. Faeries weren't shape-shifters and it had taken Vashti and Tanzi a long time to accept that and master the art of changing their form. Once they realized faeries did not change in the same way were-creatures did, and shifting for them was an illusion not a change in their bodies, they had become comfortable with the skill. Now, it was second nature. Vashti offered up a prayer to the ancient Celtic gods who watched over the fae that Jethro would not decide to look back over the wall to see what was keeping her.

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.”