Otherworld Renegade. Jane Godman

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      “Imps are generally loyal to their masters. This pair—Raimo and Ronab—are a rarity. They proved to be subversive and disobedient to the point where their master disowned them. When that happened, they were forced to become wild and fend for themselves. They did so by donning a mortal form and taking to that which they do best...robbery and violence. I’d heard what they were up to, but I didn’t know they were in Barcelona until you told me what had happened to you. One of their favorite insults for me is ‘renegade.’ That was how I knew who they were. That and the fact that your experience had all the hallmarks of one of their attacks. In their mortal guise they lose their impish traits. They wouldn’t have recognized you as a faerie.”

      “Who was the master who disowned them?” The imps had spoken of a mysterious “she.” Tanzi sensed that, whoever “she” was, it caused Lorcan pain to speak of her.

      “My mother.” He shook himself slightly as though ridding himself of a memory. “Let’s get your stuff and go.”

      “How did you know which was mine?” Tanzi gathered up her dress, jacket, shoes and bag.

      He looked surprised and then shrugged. “They looked like your style. Which means you can’t wear them in the safe house. You’ll stand out too much.”

      “Maybe so, but at least I’ll have more than one change of underwear.”

      They walked out into the darkened square. Overhead, the sky was midnight blue sprinkled with silver stardust. Even though they were in the heart of the city, it was quiet as they strolled back the way they had come.

      “So, the cat thing. Do you do that often?”

      Tanzi cast a glance up at Lorcan’s profile. It was impossible to read his expression. “It comes in handy now and then.”

      His smile was teasing as he looked down at her. “I imagine it would. Come on, let’s get you home. I’ll get you a saucer of milk. That’ll make you purr.”

      A tummy rub from you would make me purr more. Tanzi almost tripped over her own feet in surprise. Where did that thought come from? Could she say it out loud? Did she dare? She opened her mouth to try but the words wouldn’t come. Flirting. It was something she had never considered important until right now. They reached the steps to the safe house and the moment was lost.

      * * *

      Camaraderie. Laughter. Teasing. Fun. Tanzi was developing a new vocabulary. Sitting around the table in the ramshackle kitchen late into the night with Lorcan and his resistance friends had initially been a frightening experience.

      “What if they recognize me?”

      “Then we’re in deep shit.”

      Lorcan’s response had been to pull her into the room with him. Although their entrance halted the noisy conversation that had been taking place, no one had denounced Tanzi. To be fair, no one had taken much notice of her. Apart from one or two curious glances thrown her way, there was no doubt Lorcan was the main attraction. He was hailed with noisy delight by the group of two women and five men. From then on, he was the one they consulted and deferred to. He was in charge, and Tanzi saw a different side of him in this new role. Oh, he was still the blue-eyed charmer. He still had a laugh and a smile for every occasion, but there was something deeper in his expression when the group around the table spoke of their work. She saw the fire and passion of belief in what he was doing and felt a burning sense of shame. These people had been brought together to fight evil. And the evil they fought was her own father.

      Most of the time, she let their conversation wash over her. The persona she had donned when they carried her into the safe house, half-conscious, terrified and pleading for them to find Lorcan, stood her in good stead now. No one but Lorcan knew that her voice and her memory were back to full capacity. Tanzi was happy for it to stay that way. She was content to curl up in an ancient armchair near the fire with one of Maria’s cats on her lap and to let them ignore her.

      “Every time we close one of the brothels down, they open another.” The young faerie who spoke was called Aydan. He looked mortal, except for a faint ring of fire around his irises. He hid his eyes behind tinted glasses and wore his hair in long dreadlocks.

      “So why do we bother?” A girl called Lisbet spoke up. “It costs us so much each time we challenge them. We are lucky if we come away with every life intact. There are always injuries. If all we do is cause them a minor inconvenience, is there any point?”

      “There is always a point,” Lorcan stated, and Tanzi noticed the way every head turned his way. He was their undisputed leader, even if he made light of his own skills. “If we save only one person from a life of degradation in one of Moncoya’s hells, it is worth the risk.”

      Tanzi was aware of Aydan looking at her with sympathy, and a blush stained her cheeks. He thought that she had escaped from one of these brothels of which they spoke. She loathed, yet needed, the pretense in which their assumptions cloaked her. Their kindness and compassion was misplaced and she hated herself for accepting it. What would they do if they knew that in reality I was part of all they work so tirelessly to destroy? She pressed her cheek against the cat’s silken fur, turning her burning face away from gentle Aydan’s stare.

      “Why are these brothels so much worse than the ones run by mortals?” The man who spoke was a recent recruit called Iago. He was slightly older than the others around the table, and his eyes were an unusual pale green color, made even lighter by their bright ring of fire. He reminded Tanzi of one of the medieval knights in Rina’s tales. With his dark beard and courtly manners, she could imagine him slaying dragons or rescuing maidens. “Some of them can get pretty nasty.”

      “The beings in Moncoya’s brothels are slaves, stolen from their homes—sometimes as children—and forced to work there. They have no choice. Often they are beaten, starved or drugged into compliance. The services they offer are not only illegal, they are deadly. These brothels cater for the basest desires, both mortal and nonmortal. Moncoya’s henchmen provide a personalized service. They will kidnap a being to order. You’ve seen a teenage were-cougar you like the look of? Hand over the cash and she’s all yours. You have a fantasy about an underage male witch imprisoned in your own torture chamber? As long as the price is right, consider it done.” Somehow, Lorcan’s lilting accent made the horrors he described sound even worse.

      “Is La Casa Oscura one of these brothels?” Iago asked.

      Lorcan shook his head. “No. La Casa Oscura is unique. The darkest of the dark houses.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “La Casa Oscura was designed to be a well-disguised portal to Otherworld.”

      “Until Moncoya made it into something more.” Aydan’s pleasant features hardened.

      “Yes.” Lorcan continued his explanation. “I’m not going to pretend that before Moncoya there were never those who exploited the border between Otherworld and the mortal realm for nefarious purposes. Of course it happened. But until Moncoya, it was never done on this scale. This is organized crime that would make the gangs of Eastern Europe gnash their teeth with envy. This is people trafficking to an extent that the mortal realm cannot conceive. Yet, because it takes place between worlds, the law enforcement agencies of this world have no idea it even goes on. The Alliance has sworn to stamp it out, but they have enough problems at present bringing the dynasties around the table, and Moncoya is flexing his muscles from his hiding place. In the last few days, there have been faerie terrorist СКАЧАТЬ