by Hall, Linsey
He came up behind her and gripped her hand, laid one upon her shoulder and squeezed. “You doona have to do this,” Cadan whispered into her ear.
“Yes—yes, I do.” Her stomach jumped and her extremities trembled, but she had to do this. For all her bravado, she really didn’t have another choice. “I can—”
Her words were cut off as chaos rocked the chamber. Two tall figures hurtled through the portal. Cadan pushed her behind him, but not before her flashlight highlighted a harpy. It shrieked when the light blinded it, and charged.
“Watch out!” Esha screamed, blasting a fireball from her palm at the harpy that charged toward Diana.
No! If they caught her and took her to Paulinus, she would lose the advantage. Her plan would be dead.
“Go!” Warren yelled as he clashed with the second demon. “We’ll hold them off.”
Diana and Cadan took off for the portal, dodging around the harpy that had lost an arm to Esha’s fireball. She grabbed Cadan’s hand, and with one last breath, stepped into the area that she thought held the portal.
She gasped when the world suddenly quieted and darkened.
Wait. She could breathe?
“Diana.” Cadan’s voice was awed. “You have your body.”
She looked down at her arm. He was right. She was flesh and blood, as he was. He, she had expected. But she stared at her own arm in joy. It didn’t have the pale translucence of the souls she’d seen here before. Those souls maintained the same form they’d had on earth, but were a pale imitation of themselves.
She was just...Diana. But somehow more, as if taking this last step toward courage had allowed the two aspects of her soul to knit properly together. She felt the strength and knowledge of Boudica running through her veins all the more strongly. Even if her plan failed, she would have Boudica’s strength and skill to fall back on.
“You’re a warrior, Diana. The portal was no barrier to you.”
She hadn’t died? If she still had her body, did that mean that Paulinus was meant to kill her here?
“We can do this,” she told Cadan. And herself.
“Aye, always knew you could.”
She nodded gratefully, then slipped the charm over her head as he did the same. His confidence acted as a buoy for her own.
She spun to look at their surroundings. It was the same place she’d visited before. Still gloomy and dark, with a foul yellowish mist creeping along the ground, but she was actually here this time instead of just her consciousness.
The river flowed sluggishly nearby, winding through the marsh that grew on either side. A vast field of wheat stretched before them that led to the forest where Paulinus had created his altar.
She swallowed.
“Which way?” Cadan lowered his hand to the sword sheathed at his side. They hadn’t seen anyone else yet, but she gripped her sword tighter as well.
“Toward the forest.”
They set off in that direction, stepping cautiously on the boggy ground. It soon hardened beneath their feet as the marsh transitioned to the field. Gray wheat rose up to their thighs, waving lightly in the foul breeze.
“Go first to the boy, and stay with him.”
“Aye, but I’ll be keeping an eye on you as well.”
She tried to smile, but she was filled with nothing but dark purpose now. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the boy. About her daughters. Boudica had sent him here, and though she understood the rage and pain that had caused her to do so, as Diana she couldn’t bear the thought.
The boy hadn’t killed her daughters; he was just a child. She’d do what she could to make amends. As she couldn’t for her daughters.
They reached the forest and began to pick their way around fallen limbs and branches. Black, leafless oaks twisted and reached toward a gray, starless sky of perpetual night.
Diana froze when she heard the crack of a tree limb that neither she nor Cadan had stepped on. Cadan whirled to face the noise, placing himself between her and danger.
“Hey!” she whispered.
“Just protecting you ’til you get to your final task.”
That was understandable, but either way, she stepped up beside him.
Another twig snapped, this time about twenty feet to the left of the first. Cadan slipped a knife out of a sheath strapped to his forearm and whipped it into the distance. There was a soft thud, and then silence.
“Demon.” His voice was short. “I could see it through the trees. I doona know if it could see us, but...”
His vision was much better than hers, so she nodded. They crept onward, stopping long enough to retrieve the knife from the demon’s corpse. They passed within sight of several wandering souls, but none of them displayed interest in their presence. The charm must be working. Thank God.
Diana clenched her fist around the sword in her hand when she felt the energy in the air change. Maybe it was the thinning trees, but she swore she could feel it.
“We’re nearly there,” she whispered.
“Aye, I can hear them.”
Damn. His senses were excellent.
They reached the clearing, which still held the terrible altar with Paulinus standing behind it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cadan’s head swivel to the left. “There’s a demon, over there in the trees, who’ll do fine for your purposes. It’s guarding the clearing like the others.”
“They’re harpies. Watch out for the wings. They hide them on earth, but they’ve got them here.” She pointed to the far edge of the clearing, behind Paulinus. “There’s Vivienne and the boy.”
They leaned against two trees, Vivienne bound but not the boy. He stared up at the claw-like branches.
“I’m off now. Good luck. I’ll have you in my sights.” He leaned down and swept her toward him. He pressed a kiss to her lips, gave her a fierce look, and then disappeared into the forest after his prey.
Diana watched him go. She was glad he was here. For her plan to work, she’d need him for backup. She turned toward the clearing and crept forward to get a better look, careful to stay behind trees or bushes. Branches that clawed at her clothes and brambles that dragged at her feet went ignored as she slipped silently through the forest. Finally, she caught sight of Paulinus again.
She began to feel Boudica’s rage rise to the surface.
Control it. That was not the tool she would use here. She wanted so much more than to merely kill this man. She wanted to destroy his soul, to outsmart him, to save herself and Vi and the boy.
So she continued to squint through the gloom, attempting to assess his mood and glean anything she could about his intentions. His attention was rapt, his gaze rabid as he scanned the pages of the book.
He wasn’t actually insane, despite his demeanor, but he was immensely obsessed. He was manic with energy as he flipped through the pages and muttered to himself, occasionally shooting glances back at the boy who sat slumped against a tree. The boy hummed to himself and never looked at his father.
She could empathize with Paulinus. Wouldn’t she be obsessed with the same thing if she had to see her daughters in hell every day for two thousand years? At least she had the comfort of knowing her daughters were in Otherworld, a far nicer place than this.
But she was beyond forgiveness. After what he’d done, she didn’t have it in her. And she wasn’t going to allow herself to be led to slaughter like a goat in sacrifice, which is what he intended for her.
Diana took a deep breath and stepped toward the harpy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Cadan crept through the forest, silent as he kept to the perimeter of the clearing. The air smelled vaguely of dust and mold, with an underlying scent of decay. Erebus was one of the most fucked-up places he’d ever been. Dark, dank, and depressing; who the hell envisioned this place as an afterworld for warriors? The Vikings had it right with Valhalla—partying, fighting, women. This hole, with its endless gloom and misery, seemed like pretty poor recompense for a life of war.
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br /> Leaving Diana on the other side had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. His bones had ached with the need to grab her and take her back to the portal. But he’d sworn an oath. An oath that—intellectually, at least—he understood the need for.
She had a point—she didn’t want him making her decisions for her—but damn, he wanted to. Stepping back was something that he never would have been able to do the first time around, and even now he fought his instinct to return to her.
But he had to have faith in her plan. This was her fight. And she truly was the only one who could kill Paulinus. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t fix this for her.
He paused, stopping to watch her as she crept toward the harpy. With her pale skin and shining hair, she was like an angel in this hell. She was dressed simply for battle, in pants and boots, with Andrasta’s breastplate for protection. She moved gracefully despite it, stopping to crouch at the very edge of the clearing behind a bush.
Taking one last look, he began to move again. He’d counted four harpies when they’d neared the clearing, each positioned vaguely at the noon, three, six, and nine points to act as sentries. The first was left alive for Diana, but he would be nearing the second soon. It took him little time to find it, leaning against a boulder, dead asleep.
He didn’t bother to wake the thing—just leaned down, slit its throat, and continued on. He had to reach the boy, but first, he needed to take care of the two other sentries.
The ghostly sound of an owl broke the silence of the night. He crept around the perimeter toward the third and fourth sentries, careful to stay quiet but not needing the charm to help him sneak up on them. It was nothing to slit their throats from behind. He laid them gently on the ground so that their crashing bodies wouldn’t alert Paulinus.
He raced on silent feet back toward the boy and Diana’s friend, both of whom sat against trees. Quickly, quietly, he slipped his hand over the boy’s mouth and dragged him behind the trunk of the oak and out of sight of Vivienne, whom he didn’t want to startle into screaming. His hand muffled the boy’s shout and he quickly gagged him with a bit of cloth he’d brought along, suppressing a shudder at the tingling sensation he felt wherever he touched the boy’s skin.
There was something not right about touching someone else’s soul. He wrapped the Maoin straps around the boy’s wrists to hold him steady. They hadn’t been sure if regular materials could hold a soul captive, but the straps seemed to be working.
The boy couldn’t see what was abducting him and fear had him struggling harder to get away from the unknown threat. But he was small for his age and Cadan had no trouble holding on to him.
“Settle down, lad,” he whispered. “You’re no’ gettin’ away.”
He quickly tied the boy’s ankles and placed him at the roots of the towering dead oak that rose above them. They were just behind the first line of trees and couldn’t be seen by anyone inside the circle.
Paulinus hadn’t noticed his son’s disappearance yet, and Cadan glanced down to meet the boy’s frightened eyes, which were searching blindly in his general direction. He was pale and blond, with dirt marring his translucent skin. Not a full Roman. He might even be part Celt. The thought of the union between the bastard Roman general and a Celtic woman made him grimace. But that wasn’t the boy’s fault.
He almost offered words of assurance, but since the boy couldn’t see him and he didn’t know what to say, he turned back toward the circle and peered out between the trees, searching for Diana.
There. She stepped toward the harpy he’d left alive, then reached up to remove her charm. With one last glance at the boy to make sure he was gagged and secure, he removed his invisibility charm, crept up behind Vivienne and placed a hand over her mouth.
“I’m Cadan. I’ve come with Diana to save you.”
She jerked, then nodded against his hand.
“I’m going to undo the ropes around your wrists and ankles. Follow me and stay very close. And doona make a sound.” She’d need to be near him when they made their escape.
She nodded again and he unbound her wrists and feet. He reached out for her hand, shuddered at the feel of her, and helped her rise.
“Take this.” He slipped a long dagger into her hand, hoping to hell she wouldn’t have to use it.
She followed him as he stepped a few feet forward so that he would have an unobstructed shot into the clearing.
He could hear the snapping of twigs and rustling leaves as the harpy caught sight of Diana and moved toward her. His heart stuttered when the harpy grabbed hold of her, then pushed her ahead of it into the clearing. Cadan fought the urge to shoot it in the head.
He gripped the bow tighter, nearly splitting the wood before he could get himself under control. Everything is fine.
But it wasn’t. Not inside his chest. It was a battle just to keep his instincts from rising to the fore. He could shoot the demon, shoot Paulinus, and then he could get Diana out of here safely.
Nay. Only she could kill Paulinus, and it had to be her way. She’d never forgive him otherwise.
She struggled as the harpy pushed her into the clearing, putting on a good show. Paulinus looked up as the demon came to a halt twenty feet from them.
“Well, well, Ignobel, what have you here?” His voice was excited, slightly crazed, and Cadan hated the fact that he couldn’t see his expression. He could see Diana’s, though, and hers had calmed considerably.
“It is I, Paulinus.” Her voice was strong and sure. “Boudica.”
But it wasn’t Boudica. He could see Diana shining through her eyes. But Paulinus couldn’t tell that she was playing on his anger, and it was likely he didn’t care.
“Yes,” he hissed, “I’ve been waiting for you. It’s about time they caught you. Thought you could come to me on your own terms? Didn’t work so well the last time, did it?” He snapped closed the book that he had been holding and stalked around the altar toward Diana and the harpy holding her.
Cadan’s muscles tensed with the restraint it took not to throw the bow aside and charge him.
Not just to protect Boudica, but to avenge his family. It had been two thousand years since he’d looked upon the man who had ordered the destruction of his village that had resulted in their deaths. This man had changed the course of his life, both for ill and for good.
He couldn’t go back and save their lives, he couldn’t rationalize their deaths as being for a greater cause, but the disastrous results of the Roman incursion into Britain had led him to Boudica.
And in the end, even more important, to Diana.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Diana stared across the clearing at the man her subconscious recognized as the ultimate evil. She could barely feel the harpy gripping her arms behind her. She knew that Cadan was behind the line of trees waiting for her signal.
It was working. As long as she could keep her rage in check, she might get everything she’d come for. Maybe even her life.
But it was hard. Boudica’s rage scrabbled for the surface. Diana focused on her breathing and her plan. She couldn’t fail.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Paulinus. And it won’t work.” Her voice carried clearly through the forest. Oh, she was pretty damn sure his plan would actually work, but everything depended upon her convincing him otherwise. She wanted him bragging, boasting, while he thought that she was helpless; details were the difference between success and failure. “You want to sacrifice me.” She jerked her chin toward the altar.
“Indeed. Put her on the altar,” he said to the harpy. “I’ve waited long enough.”
“Why?” She struggled against the harpy that dragged her to the altar. She’d wanted to get Paulinus talking more. This was happening too fast. She jabbed an elbow at the harpy, but it only grunted. “Why did you wait so long? You’ve waited here nearly two thousand years.”
The harpy wrestled her up the stone stairs to the altar. She dropped to her knees, hoping the harpy would
let go, and winced as the stone bit into them. It didn’t let go, just dragged her up. God, this was going too fast, she was almost at the top. Don’t shoot, Cadan. She craned her neck around to watch Paulinus.
“Because of you, you stupid bitch!” His eyes flared, the light of rage glowing within them. “We needed the ultimate sacrifice—that of the one complicit in our deaths—to escape.”
Bingo. “Our deaths?” She emphasized the plural. “I assume you mean your son? But only one can escape through the sacrifice of another. The universe wants equality that way.”
“Indeed,” he seethed.
“What kind of coward would leave his son behind?”
He was on her in an instant, backhanding her as the harpy dropped her arms. She flew back from the blow and collapsed against the stairs. Pain exploded in her head, rage flaring quickly on its heels. She fought it as she tasted the blood welling in her mouth. Don’t shoot, Cadan. Please, please not yet.
He didn’t, likely because Paulinus had backed up again, breathing heavily, as she struggled to quell the rage turning her insides to fire. She glared up at Paulinus through her hair as the harpy dragged her to her feet.
“You won’t leave him behind.” She spat blood after the words, grateful not to see any teeth fly out of her mouth.
The harpy forced her onto the altar. The stone was cold and hard beneath her back.
“He’ll find a way to free me when he’s on the other side.” He growled the words.
She almost sagged with relief. It was his son he wanted to free. Her plan could work.
“You think to sacrifice me for him.” She laughed. A surge of confidence drowned out her fear, despite the cold stone of the altar that bit into her back. Boudica’s courage—no, her own—was rising to the surface. But she was going to try to win this with her mind, not her sword. Because she wanted to get the boy out. She needed to get the boy out.
“What kind of sacrifice is that?” She laughed again and watched as he trembled with rage at her ridicule. She, who was pinned to the altar, ridiculed him. “Killing your enemy is no sacrifice. It’s like a shepherd sacrificing a wolf and asking the gods to keep the wolf’s brothers from attacking his flock.” She chuckled. “Do you think they would listen? Do you think they would give him what he wanted? It’s no sacrifice.”
