Jane Godman - Otherworld Renegade

He glanced at the tiny square of blue sky that was still visible between the high sandstone walls. The sun was sinking from late afternoon into evening. Otherworld was closest at dawn and dusk. He should go, get out of here while he still could. Ali had said the two men had until sunset. Being a good guy never brought him easy choices.

He sighed. “Take me inside.”

The interior of the fortress was cool after the heat of a Moroccan summer day. Dust tickled Lorcan’s nostrils and caught in the back of his throat while something unpleasant crawled along his spine. And there it was. That dark house feeling. It was unmistakable. This one probably wasn’t used much anymore, which was why he hadn’t felt it instantly. They traversed empty corridors and passed ancient cells, their footsteps echoing in silence. The suffering of thousands of years hung heavy in the air.

“Down here.” Ali indicated stone steps hewn into the floor.

Lorcan gestured for the sidhe to go first. He might trust Ali, but he had done this sort of thing too many times. There was trust and there was gullibility. Lorcan knew which he preferred. They descended into total blackness. Lorcan extended a hand and light flickered around them.

Ali gave an appreciative whistle. “I like the way you necromancers do that.”

“We aim to please.”

They reached a circular dungeon and Ali stepped back, allowing Lorcan to move into the center of the room. On one wall two men, both naked from the waist up, were suspended by manacles around their wrists. One was so badly beaten Lorcan could barely make out his features. He hung unconscious between his restraints. The other man raised his head as Lorcan approached. His lips curved into something that was almost a smile.

“They promised you would come. It is too late for me, but there is still time to save my master.” His voice was heavily accented.

“My God, Dimitar, what the hell has happened here?” Lorcan hurried forward. He was brought up short as Dimitar turned his head, revealing the telltale marks on his neck. There was no mistaking the puncture marks made by repeated vampire bites, even in the gloom of the catacombs.

“Prince Tibor never forgave me for deserting him and choosing Jethro as my master instead. This is his revenge.” Until the recent battle, Dimitar had been the human slave of the all-powerful Prince of the Vampires.

“Has he also been bitten?” Lorcan jerked a thumb in the direction of the unconscious man. He could see now, from his height and muscular physique, that it was Jethro de Loix, his fellow sorcerer. The mercenary who gave necromancing a bad name by selling his skills to the highest bidder. When he told Ali he had no friends, he wasn’t being entirely honest. He had Cal, and these two men had saved his life in the heat of the battle to reclaim Otherworld from Moncoya’s bloodthirsty ambitions. Some things went even deeper than friendship.

“Only once. He is stronger than I. After the first time, he resisted and used his powers against the vampires. They chained him and brought their human servants to beat him each night. They promised me I would watch him die tonight.”

“I don’t understand. A mortal has to willingly invite the vampire’s first bite.”

“There was a woman...” Dimitar cast a sorrowful glance in Jethro’s direction.

Lorcan laughed. “Say no more. Where Jethro is concerned, there is always a woman. Ali, can we get these manacles open?”

“Yes. That is what we have been waiting for these past two days. One of our fighters stole the keys and made a copy.” He produced the keys from the pocket of his robes and handed them to Lorcan.

“No.” Dimitar shook his head as Lorcan reached up to place the key in the lock at his wrist. “I told you it is already too late for me.” As he spoke, Lorcan could see his canine teeth lengthening. Darkness must be falling already outside. “Save my master.”

Lorcan didn’t hesitate. There was no room for sentiment in a situation like this. Leaving Dimitar in his restraints, he turned to Jethro. “Unlock the manacles while I hold him.” He spoke over his shoulder and Ali hurried to do his bidding. Once free, Jethro slumped into Lorcan’s arms with a groan that indicated he was coming round.

“That’s a relief. I didn’t fancy carrying you out of here, my large friend.” Lorcan eased Jethro’s long body down so that he was resting in a near-sitting position against the wall.

“Lorcan? What the...?” Jethro sat up straighter, his half-closed eyes widening as they took in something behind Lorcan’s shoulder. “Watch out, she’s the one who got to me.”

Lorcan rose to his feet as a stunningly beautiful, voluptuous woman entered the dungeon. She wore the traditional garments of a belly dancer, and her honeyed skin had a sheen that cried out to be touched. Thick ebony hair hung to her waist, and above the half veil that covered the lower part of her face, her huge almond-shaped eyes were enough to melt any man’s heart. It might almost be worth eternity as a vampire just for a bite from her. Lorcan shook the temptation away quickly, aware that she was already getting inside his head.

“You are new.” She had shimmied across to him before he even noticed the movement. “And so very pretty.” Her grasping little hands reached for him.

“Sorry. I prefer blondes.” No sooner had he spoken the words than his wayward mind decided to dwell on the one blonde he knew for sure he could never have. It was amazing how often it managed to do that. Resolutely, he turned his thoughts away from Princess Tanzi and back to the matter before him.

“Oflinnan.” Lorcan issued the halt command and the vampire’s eyes flickered briefly with surprise before she froze, becoming a statue of loveliness.

“She has some nasty friends.” Jethro was struggling to his feet. “And they won’t be far behind. Let’s free Dimitar and get out of here.”

He turned to where Dimitar hung in his manacles. The halt command had worked on him as well and he was frozen in position, his mouth open, revealing new, fully formed fangs. Even behind the mask of blood that covered Jethro’s swollen features, Lorcan could see the pain on his face.

“They did this to him because of me. He lost his immunity when he switched allegiance. I won’t leave him here for them.” The words were wrenched from Jethro.

“We can’t risk taking a vampire with us. He will want to feed.” Ali’s voice echoed high and panicky around the dungeon.

“I want to get him out of here so I can stake and decapitate him. That way he can rest in peace instead of being in torment for all eternity.” Jethro’s response was hard, flat and—some might have said—uncaring.

Lorcan gestured to Ali for the keys and, once the manacles were opened, Jethro hoisted Dimitar’s stiffened frame onto his shoulder.

“These tunnels will take us beneath the city and closer to the coast.” With Ali in the lead, they made a silent, cautious trek through the tunnels. Some time later they exited out into the mimosa-scented Moroccan night.

“There is a fishing boat waiting near the lighthouse. It will take you to Barcelona. Until we meet again, necromancer.” Ali clasped Lorcan’s hand. The little sidhe gave Jethro, who still carried Dimitar’s body, a wide berth. Lorcan began to walk toward the beach. He was halted in his tracks when Ali called out softly. “I almost forgot! You asked us to let you know if anything happened to Princess Tanzi.”

“Yes?” Lorcan’s heart gave an uncomfortably loud thud. Just when he thought he’d trained it not to do that at the mention of her name. “What about her?”

“Word came from Otherworld earlier today. She has disappeared.”

Chapter 2

Running away from home. Surely more the action of an angst-riddled teen than a mature adult? And certainly not one upon whom the political future of her dynasty depended. But Tanzi had agonized over her options before making this decision. There was no one in whom she could confide.