Otherworld Renegade. Jane Godman

her now that she is dead. Nothing you say or do will comfort her. It’s best if you stand to one side while I discover what she wishes to say to me.”

      “Does she know she’s dead?” Tanzi whispered.

      “Possibly not.” There was a trace of regret in his smile. “She’ll find out soon enough. It’s my least favorite part of the job description.”

      Tanzi moved away slightly, casting a wary glance at the other coffins. What if one of the other occupants of this crypt suddenly discovered a burning desire to converse with Lorcan while he was otherwise engaged? She decided to stay far enough from the walls not to find herself on the receiving end of a bony hand reaching out from one of the shelves. The dryad stared around her with wide, startled eyes.

      “What is your name?”

      “Iphae.” It seemed she was compelled to answer Lorcan. “What place is this?”

      “You are in the mortal realm, in a city called Barcelona. Do you remember how you got here?”

      She began to shake her head. Then she raised a hand to cover her lips, and the shaking turned to nodding. The hand dropped, her lip trembled and tears filled the gray-green depths of her eyes. “Sidhes did come to our forest and hunt us down like animals. Only the youngest girls did they want. I was fearful for my little sister so I helped her to hide deep in the woods. Took me instead, didn’t they?”

      “What happened when they brought you here?” Lorcan’s voice was gentle.

      Iphae hung her head. “Cannot say it. Not to make me, please.”

      “Did they make you work for them? In their brothels?”

      She nodded and fat, glistening tears rolled down her cheeks. “Mortal men pay good money for no-good dryad bitches, sidhes do say. Keep us in chains until our masters come, don’t they?”

      “Who hurt you, Iphae?”

      She gazed up at him blankly. Then her hand went to her breast, seeking the hilt of the dagger. “Oh!” Iphae’s breath hitched in shock and Tanzi wanted to go to her and cradle the lost girl in her arms. Sympathy was another new emotion she had learned through her contact with Lorcan. What a pity a faerie’s touch would terrify the sad little dryad even further. “Big mortal took a liking to me. Cruel, and getting worse each time, wasn’t he? In fear for my life, I was. Stole this knife from one of the sidhes, didn’t I? This time when he got too rough, I cut him. Wasn’t going to take that from a cheap dryad whore, was he? Paid me back, didn’t he?”

      “Is that what you wished to tell me?”

      She frowned as though concentrating hard. “No. I hear them talk, don’t I? Saying the great Moncoya is set to rise again stronger than ever and return to his rightful place. Time to put these resistance dogs down, isn’t it? Set a trap for them. Their leader is back in town, isn’t he? Get him and slit his cursed throat.” Her hand reached out suddenly and gripped Lorcan’s. “Beware.”

      Tanzi glanced apprehensively over her shoulder. Was it possible her father knew who the resistance leader was? Worse, could he know that she had joined them? If so, his revenge against Lorcan would be absolute and vicious. For her—his daughter—death could not be any worse than the marriage plans he had already made for her.

      Iphae was speaking again. “Moved the dryad money spinners on, didn’t they? Gone from here, my friends are now.”

      Lorcan placed a hand on the girl’s head and her eyelids fluttered. “You have done well, Iphae. It is time for you to rest now.”

      “Not to go, sir. Not yet, please...” For a moment her face was a mask of fear. Gradually, she relaxed under Lorcan’s touch and her expression lightened. “Sleep, shall I?”

      “Yes, Iphae. You’ve earned it.”

      “Thank you, sir.” She lay down again in her casket, her eyes closing like a tired child who had fought slumber for too long.

      Lorcan signaled for Tanzi to help him replace the coffin lid. She watched his face as he performed the task. “How do you stand it?” Her voice was husky. She wanted to hold him, but she didn’t know how he would react. Instead, she settled for placing her hand on his forearm.

      Lorcan glanced down at her slender fingers where they rested on the sinewy muscles of his arm, but made no comment about the gesture. “It’s what I have to do for them. Listening to them, comforting them, allowing them to share their secrets and unburden their fears. It’s an obligation that was placed upon me when these powers were bequeathed to me. It’s a great responsibility but also a privilege. The final dignity I can bestow on them is to get this part right.”

      “You did,” Tanzi said quietly. “Today, for Iphae, you got it absolutely right.”

      “Thank you.” A corner of his mouth lifted briefly.

      “What now?”

      “Now? We steer clear of that bloody place.” He nodded at the blank wall at the end of the crypt. “Whatever their trap is, we’re not walking into it.”

      “What about Iphae’s friends?”

      “We’ll find them and free them, of course.”

      * * *

      The talk around the table that night was of the plan to rescue the captured dryads. Pedro was charged with discovering any likely places to which the girls might have been transported. Tanzi, from her habitual seat by the fire, kept her eyes on Lorcan’s face. She thought his eyes revealed his fatigue, but his expression remained determined.

      “This is too dangerous for you,” Lisbet insisted. “It seems they know of your presence here. They know you are our leader.”

      “How can they know it?” Aydan asked.

      “There is only one way.” Lorcan looked at each of the faces around the table. “We have an informer in our midst.”

      There was an outcry at that. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Tanzi thought that, in the ensuing series of furious protests, Lisbet cast one or two suspicious glances her way. Eventually, when the matter had been discussed several times over with no clear conclusion reached, they all departed for their separate rooms.

      “I know how difficult it is for you to hear of the things his followers have done.” Lorcan paused outside Tanzi’s bedroom door. Even though they were alone, he was careful not to make any direct reference linking her to Moncoya.

      “You mean it is hard for me to hear what he has instigated.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment and she continued. “Will I develop immunity over time, do you think?”

      “Do you want an honest answer?” She nodded. “Probably not.”

      Tanzi sighed. “I fear you may be right. Can I ask you something? About what happened with Iphae?”

      “Only if I can sit down while I answer.” His devastating grin dawned. “I’m knackered.”

      She wrinkled her nose. “Knackered?”

      “An Irish expression. It means done in. Worn-out. Exhausted.” He followed her into her bedroom and sat on the bed.

      “Is it practicing your craft that tires you so?” Tanzi glanced around, trying to decide where to sit. The bag containing her clothes—what she now thought of as her “princess kit”—was on the chair. With a feeling somewhere between apprehension and euphoria, she joined Lorcan on the bed, primly maintaining a distance of about twelve inches between them.

      “Yes. The mental energy required to commune with the dead drains my strength, and then there is the emotional toll. What did you want to ask me?”

      Even though his eyelids were drooping with tiredness, he still managed to look utterly adorable. It was very unfair of him. It made concentrating on anything else extremely difficult. “I thought that when the dead were raised they became zombies preying on human