Jane Godman - Otherworld Protector

“Car. Bike. You must have known we would have to make a quick getaway,” she said as Cal started the car.

“I know Moncoya.”

Stella shivered. She wasn’t ready for that conversation. “Who are the aggressors in Otherworld?”

The city traffic was heavy and Cal joined a line of cars heading for the suburbs. “It changes over time, with different dynasties fading in and out of prominence. The vampires are always at the forefront of any conflict. Their prince has caused us problems on and off for the past few millennia. Rage is the most powerful underlying motivator for the vampires.” He grinned down at her stunned expression. “Makes them bloody difficult to negotiate with, I can tell you.”

Stella swallowed the obstruction in her throat. “You mean proper vampires? The full-on, bloodsucking kind?”

“Is there another kind?”

“But you just said that the overlap between Otherworld and this world is harmless. If vampires are real and they drop in and out to feast on human blood, I wouldn’t exactly say they do us no harm,” she argued.

Cal appeared to give it some thought. “I see what you mean. They do harm those individuals they feed on and ultimately transform into new vampires, that much is true. In the grand scheme of things, their proclivities don’t fundamentally change the earthly realm. It’s something vampires have always done. It’s a bit of a nuisance, especially when we get a high-profile case that has to be covered up. It doesn’t change the status quo, however, so there’s no real damage done.”

Stella covered her mouth with one shaking hand, regarding his profile with eyes that were wide with shock. As he drew up at a red light, Cal turned and returned her gaze with a question in his eyes. When she lowered her hand, her lips trembled on something that was an attempt at a smile. “A bit of a nuisance? Cal, what the hell is happening here? And why am I part of this Otherworld madness?”

* * *

Cal’s eyes ached. Neon advertising signs, overhead lights and the relentless stream of headlights coming in the opposite direction had taken their toll. It was only just over an hour since they had left Barcelona, but his intense concentration on the road and who or what might be following made it feel as if he had been driving forever. Squinting slightly as he read the road signs, he was relieved to see that they were approaching the city of Girona.

“Tell me again why we couldn’t get a flight from Barcelona Airport?” Stella spoke for the first time since they had left the shopping center on the outskirts of the city, where they had stopped to get fuel and the cheap plastic sandals that now encased her feet. Cal had managed to avoid the question about how she came to be involved in the Otherworld uprising by claiming it was a complicated story and he needed to concentrate on getting them to safety. Stella had huffed at him, but accepted his admittedly pathetic excuse. He wondered now if she really wanted to hear the answer. Sooner or later, it was a conversation they would have to have. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Bloody Valkyries. What had possessed them to get involved before there had even been any fighting? Their job was to gather up the fallen, not come storming in causing havoc before the first blow had been struck. But these were strange times. Ever since the three-tailed comet had first appeared two months ago, tensions in Otherworld—always heightened—had fizzed to the surface like champagne bubbles pressing at a cork.

“They will expect us to go to the main airport. It’s the first place they’ll look. Hopefully, by the time they think of the smaller airport at Girona, we’ll be out of here.”

Stella mouthed the word they to herself but said no more. He was worried about her. It was a feeling that went beyond the obvious concerns for her safety. She looked very small and lost in his well-worn hoodie. Cal experienced an overpowering, urgent desire to reach out a hand and touch her. To smooth the spikes of her hair into place or stroke her cheek. Determinedly he kept both hands on the wheel and fixed his gaze back on the road. Forced himself to remember that he was a protector, not a nursemaid or something more intimate.

The gargoyle had been an interesting, although not entirely unexpected, diversion. Gargoyles were generally solitary creatures. Nevertheless, Cal very much doubted that the one that had descended in such a cumbersome manner into Moncoya’s garden had arrived there on its own behalf. Gargoyles were not noted for their mental agility so it was highly unlikely the creature itself had been responsible for planning the offensive. A mind more cunning than that of a grotesque figure that spent its days crouching on the side of a church had thought up that little scheme. Because, even without Cal’s intervention, the lone gargoyle had never stood a chance against the might of Moncoya. Which meant it had probably been sent simply to discover if Stella actually was at La Casa Oscura. If it had found her alone and succeeded in snatching her while it was there...well, that would have been a nice bonus for whoever sent it. So who had commissioned a gargoyle to enter Moncoya’s lair on a reconnaissance mission? There were, as Cal had already said to Stella, a number of possibilities. None of them was pretty.

The arrival of the Valkyries had overset his plans in a way that the gargoyle had not. The Valkyries were not warriors, they didn’t take sides. Their disorientation signaled that the powers at work were more sinister and disruptive than anything even Cal had encountered before. He couldn’t have left Stella in the middle of the mayhem that had been taking place back at La Casa Oscura. And yet, wasn’t that exactly what was meant to happen? Wasn’t it her destiny to be launched into the midst of the uprising at this point in time? No. He shook his head. He knew now that the forces gathering were greater and more volatile than he had anticipated. Something had changed. Therefore he had to alter his plans accordingly. The confrontation would come, that part of the prophecy was inevitable. And Stella would be part of it. That too had been foretold. My job is to equip her for what lies ahead. It was bad enough when I knew what she was facing. I cannot allow her to go into this new unknown without preparing her. And this change of plan would have nothing to do with how you felt when Moncoya put his hands on her? He ignored the insidious little voice in his head as he followed the road signs for the airport.

“Where are we now?” Stella shifted in her seat and blinked at the unprepossessing view of industrial units in the darkness beyond the window.

“Approaching Girona. I need you to get on the internet and book us on the next plane to England.”

She bit her lip. “This is a bit embarrassing, but I haven’t got any money.”

He threw a quick grin in her direction. “I know. You never do. Reach over and get my jacket off the backseat. There’s a credit card in my wallet.”

“Angels with credit cards, what next?” Stella wriggled around until she’d retrieved his jacket. “Oh, I forgot. You get all antsy when I call you an angel.”

Cal was conscious of her scanning his profile in the close confines of the car but he deliberately didn’t respond to either her words or her scrutiny. After a shrug, Stella busied herself with her phone. “We’re in luck. There’s a flight to Manchester in three hours and they have seats available. Oh, and when we get on that plane, Cal—” her voice was restored to something approaching its normal tone “—I have one or two questions to ask you.”

“It might be best to save the conversation for somewhere more private.” There you go putting it off. She has to know. You can’t protect her forever from what she is.