Otherworld Challenger (3 page)

“He doesn't know who he is. He may not mix with faeries. Bloody hell—” Cal ran a hand through his hair, his expression increasingly incredulous. “He probably doesn't even know he
is
a faerie.”

“Since I'm the one with the task of finding this mystery man, can we rewind a bit while someone gives me a refresher on the difference between faeries and sidhes?” Jethro's calm tone cut across the conversation.

Cal answered him. “All sidhes are faeries, but not all faeries are sidhes. The faeries are a dynasty, one of the largest in Otherworld, with many nationalities within it. The sidhes make up the majority of the faerie population. Although Moncoya was elevated to the faerie gentry when he took the throne, he is a sidhe and his background is not royal...a fact that infuriates him. The challenger we seek does come from the original royal family.

“All faeries are endowed with incredible physical beauty, all have the power to enchant—known as faerie glamor—and all are able to coexist with humans. Like Tanzi and Vashti, sidhes have the ability to shape-shift, other faeries don't. Sidhes have a pronounced ring of fire around the iris of their eyes. Faeries have it, too, but their eyes are green, like Stella's, so the color makes the ring of fire appear fainter, possibly even nonexistent.”

Vashti felt her lip curl. They were going to send a man who didn't understand something so fundamental about her people in search of this challenger? Her father was unlikely to have anything to fear. Which wasn't exactly a good thing for her people.

“But Lorcan and I do know someone who fits that description. Someone who doesn't look like a faerie.” Tanzi turned her head to look up at her husband. “Aydan.”

“Who is Aydan?” Jethro asked.

Lorcan turned his head to look up at him. “A prominent member of the resistance in Barcelona. We've worked together many times, fighting against Moncoya and his henchmen. Tanzi's right, he doesn't look like a faerie. He barely has a ring of fire around his irises. Aydan could pass for a mortal any day.”

“You mentioned Aydan to me when I said I was losing my right-hand man now that you were coming to live here on Spae. You said Aydan would be the perfect replacement,” Cal said.

“And he would. Brave, sensitive and totally reliable. I'd trust him with my life.” Lorcan's voice resonated sincerity. “Hell, I have trusted him with my life. Many times.”

“What's his background?” Cal asked.

Lorcan shrugged. “Sure, haven't we always been too busy kicking the shit out of Moncoya's henchmen to find time for a bonding session? I assumed he was one of the Iberian sidhes. Most of the resistance are.”

“But his eyes are green,” Tanzi insisted. “I noticed it the first time I saw him, which is why I think he is a faerie.”

Cal looked thoughtful. “I'm a great believer in gut instinct. Is it worth you checking him out before you go to Avalon?” he asked Jethro.

“Sure. I can check out everyone Lorcan knows who doesn't look like a faerie, if you like.” Jethro pushed away from the wall, standing straight and tall, looming over the rest of the group as they sat on the grass. Vashti was reminded once more of his sheer size and latent power. “But I thought we were up against the clock?”

“We are. We need to try to find the challenger before the elections for the Council leadership take place in a month,” Cal said.

“I have to go home before I set off for Avalon, so it won't cost too much time for me to do a detour to Barcelona to see Aydan. I can sound him out about his background without coming right out and asking him any direct questions.”

“Home?” Without thinking, Vashti had spoken directly to Jethro.

“Home.” He repeated, his eyes flickering over her with their customary lack of interest.

“Where is home?”

“Maine.” When she returned an uncomprehending look, he continued, as if speaking to someone of limited understanding. “In the United States.” When she continued to stare at him, he spoke more slowly again. “Of America.”

“This is a place in the mortal realm?”

“Of course.” His voice was openly contemptuous now. “I'm mortal. Where else would I live?”

Before she could utter a scathing reply, Cal interrupted. “We're in agreement, then. Jethro will speak to Aydan before he sets off for Avalon. If there's the slightest chance he's our man, bring him to the palace so I can see him for myself. Use the excuse Lorcan has already given us. I'm seeking a new right-hand man and Aydan comes highly recommended.” He rose, reaching down a hand to Stella. “Come on, let's get you to your bed.”

Vashti watched as the group split up, wandering away to their separate cottages. She stayed where she was, shifting position slightly so she could sit with her back against the cottage wall. Hugging her knees to her chest, she rested her chin on them and remained that way for some time, wrapped in her thoughts.

“Why didn't you tell him of your fears?” Ailie's voice interrupted her musings as the older woman came to sit next to her.

“I don't know what you mean.” Vashti retreated behind her usual combination of arrogance and belligerence. It was generally effective at driving people away. Why did she get the feeling it wouldn't work with this woman?

By the combined light of the moon and the lantern Ailie placed on the ground, Vashti could see the sympathy in the Spae leader's eyes. “Of course you do. It is natural to fear the unknown. There is no shame in it. Why not tell Jethro you are dreading this journey to the mortal realm?”

Vashti snorted. “You've met him. He's not exactly Mr. Approachable.”

“There is a coldness in his manner, I agree. But I think you can trust him. Although he may not always use them wisely—” Ailie broke off as though chasing an elusive thought. Shaking her head slightly, she continued. “He has goodness, a strong sense of what is right and the ability to draw others to him that is unlike anything I have known before.”

“He hates me.” Where had the sudden wobble in her voice come from? “He thinks I am working for my father to undermine the Alliance.”

“In that case, is it wise for you to go with him on this quest?”

Vashti sighed. “I have to go. Because it means more to me than anyone else. Except perhaps Tanzi, but she has other commitments now.” She turned slightly so she was facing Ailie. “Jethro thought it meant so much to me because I will lose my royal status if the challenger is found.”

“That hurt you.” It was a statement not a question.

“I know what people think of me. I'm Moncoya's daughter, a spoiled-brat princess with no thought beyond her own comfort. But that?” Vashti shook her head. “He couldn't have shown his contempt for me any more clearly. I have to see this through for the sake of my people. If this man is found, he has the potential to tear the faerie dynasty apart in a way even my father couldn't achieve with his ambition and cruelty.”

“And you see it as your duty to try to hold the faerie dynasty together?”

“If I can.”

“Yet the thought of going into the mortal realm terrifies you.” Ailie's soft voice became even more gentle. “Why is that?”

Vashti hunched one shoulder. “When we were children, our father instilled a fear of mortals into us. They were the enemy, to be feared and avoided. I've been into the mortal realm before, but in the past I have always been escorted there and back, and protected the entire time. My interactions with the earth-born only occurred when I was required to kill or kidnap them.”

“Yet violence toward the earth-born is not the true faerie way. In the past faeries and mortals have lived in harmony.”

Vashti's lips twisted into a wry smile. “My father does not subscribe to the old ways.”

Ailie nodded. “I have heard as much. What I don't understand is how Tanzi had the same upbringing yet, when she fled from your father, she voluntarily went to the mortal realm to escape him.”

“Tanzi was desperate. And she was with Lorcan, a man who had sworn to protect her.”

“While
your
journey will be undertaken alongside a man who is antagonistic toward you.”

Vashti laughed. “That's his approach to me when he's having a good day.”

“And your pride will not allow you to try to break down these barriers between the two of you?”

“Not in this millennium. Probably not in the next.”

Ailie shook her head sadly as she stood. “Then I wish you luck.”

“I have a feeling I'll need it.”

Chapter 3

T
he next morning Vashti cautiously approached a very angry Jethro, who seemed to be taking his frustration out on Cal as they stood on the village green. “Is this some kind of joke?” Jethro's expression resembled a thundercloud. “You're telling me there is a portal direct from where we are now to the mortal realm, but it will take me to a remote Scottish island?”

Cal sighed. “The Spae originated as mortals on the Isle of Orkney. Centuries ago, when they were persecuted by witch finders and forced to flee their home, your convenience and ease of international travel were probably not uppermost in their minds. They were more concerned with their own safety.”

“What is the problem?” Depositing her bag on the grass, Vashti surmised they were not likely to be departing immediately.

“The problem is I will waste time getting from Orkney to mainland Scotland, then from there to a major US airport, where I'll need to get another flight to Maine. Allowing for connections and delays, it will take the best part of two, possibly even three, days.”

Since Vashti had no concept of mortal time, Jethro's frustration was meaningless to her and she turned to Cal for an explanation. “It would take as long if Jethro returned to the palace with Stella and me to use the portal at La Casa Oscura. From there, he would enter the mortal realm in Barcelona and travel from Spain to the US. Either way, the journey is a long one. Which leaves me with one question.” He turned back to Jethro. “Since we are, as you said, up against the clock, do you have to go home first?”

Something shifted in Jethro's expression. The irritation was replaced by a guarded look, as though shutters had been abruptly pulled down. “Yes.”

“When it comes to being stubborn, you remind me of someone I once knew.” Cal's voice held a trace of frustration.

“Who was that?”

“His name was Arthur.” Cal's annoyance shifted and became a reminiscent smile. “He didn't turn out so bad.”

Hoisting a large backpack onto one shoulder, Jethro held out a hand to Cal. “Sometimes stubbornness works. Have my money ready. The next time we meet, I'll be bringing you your challenger.”

Gripping the outstretched hand, Cal nodded. “Blind, arrogant confidence. King Arthur had that, too. It's what we need right now. I guarantee Moncoya has it in abundance. Before you go, I need to have a few words with Vashti.” Jethro started to turn away but Cal stopped him. “You need to hear this.” Beckoning Vashti closer, he held up a small leather bag. “This contains a few items you will need.” Opening the bag, he began to produce the contents one by one. “Cash. US dollars. Do you know how to use this?”

Conscious of Jethro's disbelieving eyes on her face, Vashti tried to sound nonchalant. “Is it money? I've heard of it, but I have never used it.”

“Be careful with it. Keep it safe. If you wave it around, someone will try to take it from you. And, while I'm fairly sure you'll be able to stop them in their tracks, you don't want to draw attention to yourself by killing a mugger.”

Cal reached into the bag again. “This is a credit card. When the money runs out, you use this to get more. Jethro will show you how.” His eyes flicked over to Jethro. “Won't you?” The response was a curt nod. “These are the papers you will need so you have a mortal identity. And, finally, this is a cell phone. Use this if you need to keep in touch with Jethro.”

Vashti took the little gadget from him. “Can I use it to contact you?”

Cal did his best to hide a smile. He didn't quite succeed. “The signal here in Otherworld tends not to be great.”

“A word. In private.” Jethro drew Cal to one side.

Vashti couldn't catch everything that was said but she was fairly sure it was about her from the turbulent set of Jethro's features and the occasional phrase such as “got to be kidding me” and “a babysitter for your observer.” Whatever Cal said in reply appeared to have a calming effect. Nevertheless, Jethro's muttered comment reached her as the two men made their way back to her. “It was your decision to send her with me. If something happens to her, she's your responsibility, not mine.” Vashti suspected she was meant to overhear it.

Cal scanned her face. “Sure about this?”

“Absolutely.” She gave him her brightest smile. “At least I already know what the worst part of the journey will be.”

“What's that?” He lifted her bag and handed it to her.

She cast a look at Jethro, whose expression refused to lighten. “The company.”

* * *

Jethro watched Vashti surreptitiously as she leaned against the rail of the boat, allowing the brisk breeze to catch her face. It was hard not to watch her. She had a sort of mesmerizing quality that drew his gaze even when he tried to fight it. He'd met plenty of faeries in his time, but she seemed to have more enchantment about her than all the others put together. As if this job wasn't complicated enough already.

He felt his initial annoyance at not being able to get a flight from Orkney to Glasgow dissipating with each mile the ferry covered. It was one of the most infuriating things about what he did. It should be simple. He wanted to get from one place to the next in the most direct way possible. Other people got paid to take him there. Yet there always seemed to be a problem. Patience wasn't high on Jethro's list of virtues. Over the years he'd developed his own ways of getting around inflexible travel schedules, but today money and intimidation hadn't been options.

They had passed through the portal from Spae to Orkney just in time to find out they'd missed the only flight leaving the island that day.

Swallowing his annoyance, Jethro had resorted to finding an alternative. “It's an island,” he'd said to the airport ticket agent. “There must be other ways of getting off it.”

“The ferry to the mainland leaves in an hour,” she'd told him, a trace of disappointment in her eyes as she'd looked him up and down. “I hope you'll visit Orkney again soon.”

Now that he'd managed to phone ahead and get arrangements in place for the next stage of the journey, Jethro allowed himself to relax. Well, as close as he ever came to that sensation. What he did for a living never allowed him to completely unwind.

“I'm going to get something to eat.” He raised his voice slightly above the noise of the engines, the wind and the cries of the gulls. “Since you're following me, I thought you might want to join me?”

Vashti turned her head and he was caught in the headlamp stare of those incredible eyes. Lighter and bluer than the sky above her head, they had a feline tilt below slightly slanting brows. The give-away sidhe ring of fire around her irises blazed bright, making the blue even clearer. Damn. He had a feeling those eyes were going to give him all kinds of problems.

“I'm not a child in the schoolyard, tagging along behind you because I want to.” Her voice was haughty. “I'm observing you because it's my duty.”

He grinned. “Perhaps you'd like to observe me while I eat a burger?”

Her expression was thoughtful. Then she nodded. “I'm hungry, too.”

They made their way down to the boat's restaurant. “Is it true what they say about faeries?” Jethro paused as he studied the self-service menu. “If we eat together, will I belong to you forever?”

For the first time since he'd met her, Vashti smiled. It was an expression filled with genuine amusement and a hint of mischief. And it lit up the beige plastic and dull chrome environment like a flare launched into the midnight sky beyond the portholes. “Only if I want you.”

Jethro returned the smile. He had no choice. It was irresistible. “I guess I'm safe?”

“Totally.”

And in that instant, in that bland environment smelling of fries and cheap coffee with dispirited travelers milling around them, Jethro felt something shift ever so slightly. It was a tiny glimmer of something other than animosity. He wasn't quite sure what it was. Interest? He knew what Lorcan would say. He could hear his friend's long-suffering voice chiding, “Sure, can't you be around a good-looking woman for more than five minutes without trying to figure out how to get her into bed?”

But it wasn't that sort of interest. Call it curiosity. Vashti had taken him by surprise. He hadn't expected her to have a sense of humor. That was all. She usually hid it so well with that whole pain-in-the-ass royal thing she had going on.

“So are we going to get some food?”

Aware that Vashti was regarding him with a bemused expression, Jethro gave himself a mental shake.
So much for the ever-alert mercenary.
Just as well neither Iago nor Tibor had been around while he was gazing into Vashti's eyes, intrigued by this unsuspected facet to her personality.
I'd have been sprawled facedown with a knife between my shoulder blades or my throat ripped out before the girl behind the counter had time to ask if I wanted my coffee regular or large.

“Yeah, let's do that.”

The food was as sterile and uninteresting as their surroundings and they sat at a table offering them a view of black nothingness. Jethro was glad Vashti seemed content not to speak. Company on his travels was a new experience. Unwanted, unwelcome company in the form of Moncoya's daughter had to be the worst kind of intrusion. At least he didn't have to talk to her. No sooner had those thoughts passed through his mind than Jethro found himself wanting to question her. To discover what was going on behind those flawless features. To find out more about this exquisite enigma who, with her twin, had been Moncoya's trained assassin.

He couldn't talk about the night Moncoya got away. That would incite her to instant, boiling fury. In fact, it was probably best to steer clear of anything to do with her father.

“What was it like training with the Valkyries?”

Vashti withdrew her gaze from the darkness beyond the porthole and Jethro was conscious of that blue gaze assessing him. He was fairly sure he fell short of the required standard. “Demanding.” She turned away again.

“And growing up in the faerie palace?”

There was that stare again. Bland, blue and impossible to read. “Luxurious.”

This was becoming a challenge.
Get her to say more than one word.
“It must have been hard when your father was defeated.”

“Are you making conversation?”

He grinned. “I'm trying to.”

“Please don't.”

With a feeling of amused irritation—
the princess has spoken, I've been dismissed
—Jethro lapsed into silence.

* * *

So far Vashti had survived her first forty-eight hours in the mortal realm without anything too alarming taking place. The noise and the sheer number of people moving around were the hardest things to deal with. How they could possibly know what they were doing, where they were going and how to avoid bumping into each other, was beyond her comprehension, yet somehow it seemed to work.

Although she would never admit it, Vashti was glad of Jethro. Keeping up with his long strides as he'd marched first through the ferry terminal, then the airport, had given her a sense of purpose that meant she hadn't stood in the midst of the chaos simply gazing around her like a lost soul. He'd even taken the trouble to explain that extreme reactions like drop-kicking the woman who'd jostled her at the airport check-in desk or throat-punching the man who'd regarded her appreciatively before stepping uncomfortably close as they'd boarded the plane would be considered inappropriate in the mortal realm. They would even, he explained with unexpected patience, attract undue attention and land her in trouble.

“They should keep their distance,” she had grumbled as they'd taken their seats on the plane.

“They don't know you're a princess. To them you're an ordinary person.”

Frustrated when her seat belt didn't do what she wanted it to, Vashti tried to wrench it out of place. With something that sounded suspiciously like a long-suffering sigh, Jethro had showed her how to fasten it.

“Oh.” She had leaned back in her seat, digesting the information.
Ordinary
. She had been described as many things during her life. Never that.

Jethro had slept during much of the long plane journey. He'd slumbered like a cat, falling asleep instantly and deeply, but waking alert and watchful. While he'd dozed, Vashti had watched movies and observed her fellow passengers.

The man who had eyed her up earlier was seated across the aisle and one row in front. He was tall and slender with long, fair hair. He was traveling with a woman and the two of them seemed to exist in their own separate bubbles. Together yet apart. Vashti speculated on their relationship. As if aware of her gaze, the man looked in Vashti's direction. Recognizing her, he grinned admiringly. The scowl she gave him in return seemed to have the desired effect and he turned away once more.

Each time Jethro did stretch his long body and open those melting dark eyes, it seemed to Vashti a flight attendant appeared as if by magic. “Do women always look at you like that?”

“Like what?” He paused in the act of devouring a sandwich.

She wrinkled her nose in an effort to find the right words. “Like they want something from you.”

His lips twitched and she got the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh. “Sometimes.”

She sighed. “I will never understand mortals.”

“We're a fairly uncomplicated lot if you give us a chance.” He jerked a thumb toward the plane window. “The United States. Home.”

Vashti leaned across him to get a better view. “I have heard of it even in Otherworld. It doesn't look uncomplicated to me.” It looked like an uneven jumble of architecture and water and greenery.
What if I get lost down there?
She turned her head to voice the question but the words died on her lips.