Nevertheless, Tanzi and Vashti had been determined to put their own skills to the test. Tanzi had never mastered levitation, although, after much practice, Vashti had been able to hover a few feet above her bed. Beyond all others, the one faerie power that had fascinated them throughout their childhood had been shape-shifting.
“I will be a cat,” Tanzi had declared.
“Panther.” Trust Vashti to go bigger, bolder, meaner and keener.
With no clear idea of how to go about the necessary transformation, they had spent hours concentrating on the feline forms into which they wished to change. Tanzi recalled a whole day during which she had followed the kitchen cat around the palace grounds, emulating its movements and imagining herself inside its skin. No matter what they did, neither twin sprouted so much as a whisker. Dispirited, they had questioned Rina about the problem.
“Your father would not like it if he knew I talked to you of the old ways.” Their nurse had cast a nervous look over her shoulder as though expecting Moncoya to emerge from the very walls. “It would be worse if he thought I was encouraging you to try them.”
“We won’t tell if you don’t,” Tanzi had assured her. “But we want to know how to shift.”
“I don’t understand how it works,” Vashti, a stickler for detail, had grumbled. “Even if we could work out what to do, what happens to our clothes when we shift? And how do we come back into our own form again?”
Rina had shaken her head, clicking her tongue indulgently. “Ah, my princesses, you are thinking about this in the wrong way. This is what happens when the old traditions are allowed to die. You are faeries, not were-creatures. Your bodies do not change in the way theirs do.”
Spellbound, Tanzi and Vashti had gazed at her. “Go on.”
“The faerie skill lies in the ability to weave an illusion. We are creatures of magic. Changing shape is part of our glamor. All you have ever needed is the desire to create your disguise. If you believe, you will make others believe with you.”
Round-eyed, the twins had watched each other in delight as they shifted easily into their chosen animal form. From that day on, Tanzi’s go-to shift throughout her childhood had been a black cat. Mercurial Vashti chose a different animal each day, depending on her mood. It had remained their secret, one they had never revealed to anyone else. Their father’s response to their newfound skill was not one they cared to predict.
It had been a while since she had donned her feline disguise, Tanzi conceded. But, if she wanted to see what was going on over at that church, it was her only option. Her mind was made up when Lorcan moved out of the shadows and pushed open the wooden door. Dropping into a crouch and then onto all fours, Tanzi padded into her cat form. She crossed the square and then sprang lightly onto one of the window ledges so that she could look down through the broken glass and onto the scene below.
The interior of the ruined church was lit by two branches of flickering candles set on a table near the altar. Upon this were piled numerous items, including bags, wallets, clothing and shoes. From her vantage point looking down on the scene, Tanzi immediately spotted her own belongings. She also knew the toreador from his spiky hair and distinctive street performer’s clothing. She didn’t recognize his companion, but he wore dark clothing that could easily have been the bull’s costume. The discarded bull’s head lying on one of the lopsided pews was the final giveaway. Tanzi’s injured ribs ached in acknowledgment of the second man’s identity.
“Raimo and Ronab.” Lorcan strolled into the church, coming up behind them. He lit a path before him in the way that was unique to necromancers. “It’s been a while, guys.”
They swung around, matching expressions of comical incredulity on their faces. The toreador attempted a sneer. It didn’t quite work. “Not long enough.”
Even from a distance, Tanzi could hear Lorcan’s exaggerated sigh. “Raimo, will you lose the attitude? Is that any way to greet a fellow countryman?”
Lorcan was standing next to them now, and Tanzi noticed that the other two men had a tendency to hunch over with their backs curved forward and their heads hanging almost below their shoulder line. Maybe it was just because Lorcan was so tall and straight in comparison. Perhaps it was even a trick of the shadows or a distortion caused by her viewing angle. It was disconcerting because when she had first arrived the two men had looked completely normal. They had also appeared to be individuals, completely different from each other. Now, only minutes later, when she looked from one to the other and back again, they had become almost identical, like indistinguishable mirror images.
Lorcan ran a casual hand over the hoard on the table. “Busy night?”
“What’s it to you, necromancer?” The one who had been dressed as a bull adopted a belligerent tone. It was the same one he had used in that alley when he’d stolen her clothes and kicked her in the ribs. It made Tanzi arch her back and unsheathe her claws.
Lorcan’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Effortlessly, he lifted the other man off the ground. “A friend of mine was attacked in an alley just off the Ramblas a few nights ago. If I remember rightly, beating up girls is your specialty, Ronab. Would you know anything about this incident, by any chance?”
Before Ronab, who seemed to be struggling for breath, could speak, Raimo moved closer to Lorcan. His gait was odd, almost gamboling, and his arms appeared much longer and thinner than Tanzi remembered. Why had she not remarked upon these very noticeable traits when she first saw him? I might be naive, but even I would not have willingly followed one whose appearance was so clearly odd.
“You wrong us, Lorcan.” The combative note in Raimo’s voice had been replaced by a high-pitched wheedle. “It would not be the first time.”
Lorcan laughed, letting go of Ronab so quickly that the other man stumbled and fell to his knees. “I have never been wrong about you.”
Tanzi almost lost her grip on the window ledge as she caught a glimpse of Ronab’s face, as he turned fully in her direction for the first time. There was no longer anything left of his human features. It was as if he had donned a mask of polished bone. Roughly triangular, his head narrowed from a wide top to a sharp, pointed chin. Small, downward-curving horns protruded from the upper corners, and bright red slits glowed in place of his eyes. Ronab blinked once and, as Tanzi watched in fascination, his eyelids moved from side to side instead of up and down. As far as she could see, he had no nose or mouth.
“We have to earn a living. Ever since we were cast off...”
“Don’t give me that old sob story. We all know you were cast off because of your thieving ways.”
“To our sorrow. If we could go back, start again, explain what happened.” Raimo sighed. “Too late. We miss her.”
“You should have thought of that while you still had her protection.” Lorcan’s voice was colder than the ice on the mountains surrounding Valhalla. “The question is, what shall I do with you now?”
“Speak sternly and make us promise never to do it again?” Ronab got to his feet. With the change in their appearance, the demeanor of the two men had also altered. They had become skittish, almost fawning over Lorcan. They were subservient to him now. Any suggestion of confrontation was gone.
“I could do that,” Lorcan agreed. “And five minutes after I left here, you’d be back out on the street doing a number on the next unsuspecting tourist you came across.”
“There is one way to ensure our eternal obedience.” The creatures that had once been men arranged themselves on each side of Lorcan, gazing up at his face. “Become our master.”
Before