Jane Godman - Otherworld Protector

“This must be a coincidence. Surely?” Where had that nervous flutter in her voice come from?

“Perhaps.”

As words went, that one was less than reassuring. Stella cast an anxious look around her. The room was a huge, high-ceilinged, impersonal square. Other people were pouring in behind them so going back the way they had come was not an option. The only exits were beyond the barriers at which passengers had to display their passports. Two uniformed police officers stood to one side of the desks, surveying the crowd of people. In the line for the desk to the right of theirs, four young men clad in colorful ponchos and hand-knit alpaca sweaters caught Stella’s eye. They all carried panpipes and looked like walking advertisements for the Peruvian tourist industry. On closer inspection, it seemed they had not fully embraced the Andean lifestyle, since each one of them wore a headset beneath his wide-brimmed leather hat.

The line shuffled slowly forward. Stella was aware of the tension in Cal’s whole body that was somehow managing to communicate itself to her through the clasp of his hand. Turning to look at the line to their left, she was briefly distracted by the antics of what appeared to be a bachelorette party. Clad in tiaras, tutus and—bizarrely—galoshes, the six women looked as though they had been partying hard for days. “Have I missed some hot new trend? What is it with the headsets?” Stella wondered, noting that the women in the bridal group were all wearing them under their tiaras. Cal, tightly wound with inner tension, didn’t respond.

As more passengers surged in from newly arrived planes and the room became even more crowded, they were increasingly jostled. Still holding Stella’s hand in one of his, Cal also drew her close, sliding his other arm about her shoulders so that she was pressed up against the hard muscle of his chest. In spite of the circumstances, Stella took a moment to enjoy the sensation. “No matter how chaotic it gets, don’t move away from me.”

Stella glanced up at him, at the taut muscles of his jaw and the rigidity around his eyes. Was he tired, or was there something more to it?

Just then the poncho-wearing group shimmied closer and one of the men caught Stella’s eye. As he did so, he spoke into his mouthpiece. Immediately, the other three men turned in her direction. They were all remarkable for one thing. Their good looks. She glanced across at the women in the bachelorette party. The disheveled, hungover look of minutes earlier was gone. Each one of them could have been a glamour model, except for one fact. They were all tiny.

“Er, Cal...”

“I know. It doesn’t matter what they do, stay in contact with me.”

“There are police officers over there.” Obediently, Stella pressed herself tighter against him. “Can’t we go to them and explain what’s going on?”

“Stella, have you ever met a police officer shorter than you?” He was right. She glanced across at the two police officers, and one of them gave her a friendly wave. He was so handsome he might have just stepped out of a trailer as the romantic lead in a film. Sadly, his lack of inches meant he was never going to get that sort of starring role. Panic settled somewhere between her chest and her abdomen, making breathing difficult.

“What can we do?” They were completely surrounded now.

“If you are indeed the star Moncoya seeks—and you are the only one who doubts it, by the way—you can help me get us out of this.”

“How?” Stella shuddered as one of the tutu-clad women came within inches of them. Her lips drew back, showing very small, perfectly even white teeth. The expression was somewhere between a smile and a snarl. The ring of fire around her irises blazed bright.

“We will be stronger together.” Cal’s voice, usually the softly spoken, masculine tones of her childhood imagination, sounded completely different. Now, it had become a rich baritone, full of fire and majesty, echoing around the soulless room and bringing an abrupt end to the impromptu party. Stella looked up at him and watched in fascination as the silver light in his eyes shone more brilliantly than ever. The glow in their depths would shame the purest moon beams on the darkest night. It must be her imagination—of course it was—but it was almost as if the concentrated beam from Cal’s gaze was brightening the room, shimmering and glistening on each object it touched.

From nowhere, her invisible friend, Cal, had been transformed into a commanding presence of mountain-shattering proportions. Without moving, or speaking, he was dominating everything around him, and the sidhes promptly abandoned any further attempt to disguise their identity. Hissing and showing their teeth, they drew back slightly. Beauty really is only skin-deep, Stella thought. She was surprised she could string a coherent thought together at all, let alone make it a flippant one. Other passengers, sensing the sudden change in mood, also began to distance themselves.

The air around the two of them seemed to thicken and quiver. Stella had the oddest feeling that, if she reached out a finger, she would encounter a springy resistance. It was like being encased in invisible Bubble Wrap. Stella and Cal were alone, surrounded by a circle of irate sidhes and a more distant ring of wary onlookers.

“We’re out of here. Nobody is going to stop us.” Cal spoke again, still in that incredible, Shakespearean voice. Keeping his arm around Stella so that she walked in step with him, he began to move toward the passport desk. Nobody did stop them.

“Majesty will come for his star,” one of the poncho-wearing sidhes, braver than his fellows, whined at them as they passed.

“Majesty can fuck off.”

A collective seething rasp rose up around them. “Galdre. Deófolwítga.” Memories came flooding back to Stella. It was the language of the monster under the bed.

They had reached the desk now. Stella looked nervously at the immigration officer, seated in his booth. She had a horrible fear he might be handsome enough to take her breath away. He wasn’t. He was middle-aged, balding and looked as if he wanted to be elsewhere. Probably tucked in his bed. He also seemed oblivious to the jittery atmosphere, merely gesturing through the thick glass panel for them to step forward.

“My girlfriend is feeling unwell. These people were good enough to let us come through before them,” Cal said, and Stella was relieved to hear his voice lower several tones and approach something like normality. He held his passport out to the official on the desk and gestured for Stella to do the same. “Thanks, guys.” He raised his hand in a friendly wave to the line of people behind them as they passed through the barrier. Gripping Stella’s hand hard, he marched toward the two sidhes dressed as police officers. They moved to block the exit.

Looking down at Stella’s worried expression, he grinned. “That was fun. Ready for the hard part?”

* * *

Confronting a couple of angry sidhes in a public place, with a crowd of Moncoya’s foot soldiers snapping at his heels, would not have been Cal’s first choice of ways to give Stella an introductory lesson in how to deal with the threat posed by the faeries. A quick glance around showed he had no choice. Despite the early hour, this was an international airport going about its business. There were so many people milling around that the chances of bystanders getting caught in the cross fire were high. Doubtless the sidhes were counting on that. Cal’s reputation for protecting the innocent was well-known. Moncoya had derided him for it often enough. All of Cal’s ingenuity as well as his powers were going to be needed if he was to get Stella out of this and away to safety while ensuring no one else got hurt.