by Hall, Linsey
He threw his book to the side. “You caused his death. When he kills you on the altar, it will be sacrifice.” He swung his head around, searching the clearing. “Maximus! Come here. It is time!”
“Where is this son of yours?”
Cadan stepped from the trees. Vivienne followed close behind. The trembling boy was cradled in his arms, but Diana couldn’t bear to look at his face and see the fear there. It wasn’t a truly perfect plan, but it was the only compromise she could make. She craned her neck and watched Cadan lay the bound boy on the ground at his feet and raise his bow.
“Hello, Paulinus.” Cadan’s voice was harsh, his smile evil.
Had she not known him, she’d have wondered who the bad guy was here.
“You remember the Trinovante clan, do you no’, Paulinus? My father was king, until you burned our homes and killed my family. I’d be happy to return the favor.” Cadan dipped his bow toward the boy, but not enough so the boy could see. Through her rage and fear, Diana was grateful for his foresight.
“Let him go.” Paulinus’ voice cracked with fear. He stepped forward; Cadan stepped back. “You can’t kill his soul,” he blustered.
“Are you sure?” Cadan asked.
She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t.
“Now,” Diana said.
Cadan raised the bow and shot the harpy who held her down. Its body thudded to the ground and Diana scrambled off the altar. She yanked the short sword from the sheath at the harpy’s side and crouched behind the altar, glaring at Paulinus. Now they would fight.
“Harpies!” Paulinus roared.
The trees seemed to quiver as his voice echoed through the forest. Creatures skittered through the brush, heading away from the clearing. Diana glanced frantically at the sky. They’d killed all the harpies in the clearing, but he must be calling others to him.
An ominous flapping sound cut through the forest. Four harpies dropped from the sky, their black wings spread and their beady eyes trained on her, Cadan, and Vivienne.
“Stay with the boy,” Diana yelled at Cadan.
She charged the harpy nearest her and met it with a clash of steel. The first blow sent a vibration singing up her arm. Harpies were damned strong. Fast too, and its blade swiped across Diana’s side. Pain streaked through her, but not so much that she feared for her life.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Cadan felling one harpy with an arrow and turning to sight another. Vivienne battled one with the long dagger in her hand. Her eyes were bright with a lust for vengeance.
The desire to help Vi gave Diana a burst of strength. She used it to decapitate the harpy. She turned to help Vi and saw that her friend had somehow stabbed the harpy through the throat. Vi was bleeding from her arm and thigh, but was standing tall. The other harpies were on the ground, demon pincushions stuck with arrows.
Vi joined Cadan, who now stood between Paulinus and his son, his arrow trained on the general.
“A step closer, Paulinus, and the first arrow goes into you and the second into your son,” he said.
Paulinus shot him a look of such hatred that Diana shivered. Then he turned the glare on her.
“We can fight,” she told him. “And I will destroy you. I killed your earthly body. You know that I’m the only one who can kill you here. Who knows where you’ll go then? Away from your son, that’s for sure. Leaving him here, alone with us.”
His face twisted, flames behind his eyes that reached out for her. She took a few steps back from his advancing form.
“Or, you can sacrifice yourself and ensure that your son lives,” she said.
He stopped short but kept his sword raised. “What do you mean? I didn’t kill him.”
“Didn’t kill him? Just as I didn’t kill my daughters by making them joint heirs to the throne with Rome?”
“You knew that Rome was to be sole heir to your husband’s land upon his death! That was the deal we gave every kingdom. Trying to slip by the rules by naming your daughters as co-heirs sealed their fates!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted. But as the words left his lips, the sick light of dawning knowledge filled his eyes.
“Exactly.” The decision had been her husband’s, but she too was to blame. Paulinus had swung the sword over her daughters’ necks, but she had handed him that sword. “Just as you are complicit in your son’s death. I, Boudica, swung the blade. But would he have been on the battlefield if not for your hubris? Should you have led a child into that nightmare?”
Indecision and doubt warred on his face. “He was strong, the bravest of them all.”
“Not strong enough.” The words were harsh, her tone worse.
He began to advance on her, his body swift and agile despite his ghostly form. Or perhaps because of it.
“Fight me, Paulinus, and die. And lose your only hope of saving your son.”
Her sword crashed with his as he reached her. She danced to the side, narrowly avoiding his blade. The now familiar unworldly skill and confidence sang through her.
“He must kill me on the altar for the spell to possibly work. We’ve killed your harpies. You have no help.”
She spun on him and met his burning eyes as she sank the blade into his side. His mouth gaped and she twisted. He stumbled away from her blade, then rose again with his own clutched in his fist.
“Make the sacrifice you know is required,” she said.
He was strong, but she was faster. Doubt slowed him. He couldn’t kill her off the altar or his plan was lost. Her sword clashed with his as she drove him backward. She dodged his blade once more, then cursed as it swiped at her arm.
Sweat poured down her face and her wound burned. What if he settled for saving his own life and decided to kill her instead of having his son do it?
No. Think only forward. Only a few more steps. The forest was silent but for their sawing breaths. She thrust her blade at him, driving him toward the altar. He was faltering.
“Why?” He gasped. “Why give me the chance to save him?”
He stumbled on the first step leading to the altar.
“Because I can’t do the same for my daughters.”
Her heart burned with rage at this man for taking them from her. Boudica would never have spared his son, but Diana could. Two thousand years allowed her to see clearly. The world would be well rid of this madman, but not his son.
“Do you hate me more than you love him?” She drove him up to the last step until he bent backward over the altar. His eyes met hers, rage in their depths, but also hopelessness. She had her sword at his throat, giving him just enough space to look to the side for his son.
Her heart pounded as she glanced up briefly. Cadan held the boy so that he couldn’t see. With her sword at his throat and his son captive, he had only one viable option.
With a last burning look at the boy and not a second spared for her, Paulinus plunged the dagger into his own heart.
Diana gasped and lunged backward as he began to slip from the altar. It gave her chills to watch him die in the same way she had. He’d plunged his blade more truly, though, and within seconds the life slipped from his eyes. His soul was beginning to disappear; she jerked her gaze up and searched for Cadan, but he too was beginning to fade. He, Vi, and the boy were disappearing before her eyes.
No. She ran for Cadan. The boy was the key to making it back out. His restored soul would lead them out of Erebus. She crashed through the clearing, her lungs burning as she pushed harder, faster. Please, oh please let me make it in time.
Cadan ran to meet her, arm outstretched, but just as they neared each other, he and the boy disappeared, Vivienne in tow.
Diana stumbled to a halt. No! She doubled over, helpless fear overwhelming her.
Now what? With Paulinus’ death, the portal was closed. She should have been able to make it in time, but he’d died so quickly.
Now she was stuck in hell.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Cadan fell to his knees in th
e chamber beneath Edinburgh, the boy still gripped in his arms. Vivienne’s soul had disappeared as soon as they’d appeared in the chamber.
“Where’s Diana?” Esha’s voice was frantic.
He opened his eyes to see Warren jerk the silent boy out of his arms. He surged to his feet and frantically searched the room. “Nay.” His voice was hoarse, desperate. “No’ possible.”
He sprinted toward the portal, but could see nothing more than he had earlier that morning.
“The portal is closed!” Esha’s voice was unusually high-pitched. “Didn’t she make it to you in time?”
Her hand hadn’t touched his. When Paulinus had been destroyed and the portal had closed, her hand hadn’t been touching his. They were supposed to have had more time!
He threw his head back and roared, “Diana!”
His hands clawed at the stone wall where the portal had been. He had to get to her. Diana was trapped. His heart thundered and his head pounded. Rage and despair fought for supremacy. The battle would send him into madness.
He couldn’t lose her again. Not to hell. She was conscious, not dead, and she was trapped in hell. She could be killed.
He spun to face Esha, who was frantically and almost blindly looking into the space around him.
“How?” he yelled. “How do we get back?”
Her panicked gaze snapped to his. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to make it come back!” She clenched her fists in her hair. “Fuck!”
“Is she still alive, Cadan?” Warren was bent over the boy.
“Aye.” Please gods, let Diana still be alive.
Warren turned toward Esha. “How much longer should your invisibility charm work, Esha?”
“I—I don’t know. Minutes, maybe an hour.” She ran her hands down her front and scrubbed them nervously over her hips. He’d never seen her so frantic. “Damn it!”
She couldn’t stay still, and he couldn’t seem to move.
Diana dragged in a breath and stood to search the clearing. There had to be a way out. She had a body. She wasn’t just a soul. She shouldn’t be here.
Panic tore at her insides with scrabbling claws as she fumbled in her pocket for her invisibility charm. Please still work. She didn’t want to be sighted by any of the harpies who still lurked in the forest. She slipped it over her head and looked at her arm.
Shit. Still there. But she could still see herself when she’d first put it on and it had presumably worked then. Since she couldn’t be sure, she ran for the cover of the forest.
Think, Diana, think! She crouched behind a bush, staring blindly at the thick yellow mist that crawled along the ground as she searched her brain for an idea. Any idea.
She tried to ignore the bushes that scraped at her back and the skitter of animals above her in the trees as her mind scrabbled frantically for answers. The spell book. Paulinus had thrown aside his spell book. Maybe it held answers.
She peered out from behind the bush and searched the clearing for any sign of danger. They’d killed the demon sentries. Would more show up? If a human soul saw her, would it matter?
She couldn’t worry about that right now. She had to get that book. She took a bracing breath and raced from her spot. The ground flew beneath her feet as she sprinted toward the book. She jerked as a hare streaked by her but didn’t stop running. She scooped the book up out of the yellow mist and sprinted back to her hiding spot.
Frantically, she skimmed through the pages of the spell book. Latin. All in damned Latin. She wasn’t terrible at Latin. As an historian, it had been one of the languages she’d learned for her degree. She even used it sometimes.
But trying to read a spell book in Latin while she was in hell took more concentration than she had. The lines blurred before her face and a tear dropped to the page.
Searching the book for answers was stupid. Paulinus had been using it to escape and look where it had gotten him. A complex spell with ingredients she didn’t have.
A bitter laugh escaped her. She was in the same predicament as her enemy now. She buried her head in her hands, but jumped when an owl hooted. That was weird. She’d heard it before, but she hadn’t expected animals to be in human hell. And a hare had jumped through the clearing earlier.
A hare. She looked up. If there was a hare here, then maybe she could call Andrasta. It was the animal she’d used as Boudica to help call the goddess to her, and it had worked before. But how was she going to catch a hare? Chase it?
Maybe she didn’t need it. If it was still here, perhaps if she just said the words, it would work.
Here goes nothing. Diana took a deep breath and began to recite the words. They echoed creepily in the clearing and she shivered. When she finished the last verse, she looked around, hoping to see Andrasta.
Nothing.
Damn. Well, she’d try again. And again.
“Diana.”
She jumped. “Andrasta?”
Diana turned to see the goddess. She stood in the middle of the clearing, dressed once again in her warrior’s garb, this time with a different breastplate. Her stance was confident, her mien unconcerned, if slightly paler than when she had seen her last. Apparently hell didn’t bother a goddess as much as it did a mere mortal.
“Oh, thank you! You didn’t have trouble coming here?”
“As a Celtic god in a Roman hell?” She asked, smiling just slightly.
“Yes. Is that allowed?” Was shock making her ask these inane questions? She should be begging to be let out of here!
“I had to get special permission,” she said wryly.
Diana clutched the book in one hand, her sword in the other. Thank goodness she’d kept trying. “So, um, can I get out of here?”
Andrasta smiled. “I think so. You did well today.”
Diana nodded her thanks. She’d be able to appreciate the compliment better once she was out of Erebus.
“You showed uncommon wisdom, as I did so many years ago. You also showed mercy.”
Diana shook her head. “No, not mercy. The boy had nothing to do with my daughters’ deaths. I shouldn’t have killed him in my past life. I just wanted to undo that wrong.”
Andrasta smiled. “I see. Well, be that as it may, it is because of that action that I am permitted to offer you a choice.”
Diana looked at her quizzically.
“Your soul is immortal, Diana, as is everyone’s. But yours is particularly strong. Possibly because of how long you waited to be reborn, or possibly because of who you are and the decisions you’ve made. Maybe a little of both. Because of it, you have a choice.”
A chill passed over Diana as she waited for her to continue, almost lightheaded from holding her breath. Would this choice get her out of hell?
“The strongest souls cling to earth. It’s the center of all of our worlds, the birthplace of the beliefs that make the heavens and the hells exist. As such, you’ll live the rest of your mortal life on earth as everyone else does.”
Diana nodded gratefully as her heart leapt. It sounded like she was going home. She’d died by coming here, but she had a second chance.
Andrasta wasn’t finished. “Because of the strength of your soul, upon your death your soul will continue to be reborn to earth, most probably with your memories intact. Or…” She paused. “You can choose to remain with this body forever.”
“You’d make me a Mythean?” Diana’s heart clutched.
“We wouldn’t make you anything,” the goddess corrected her gently. “You’ve made yourself what you are. We would just give you the opportunity to choose this body and this consciousness to house your soul as long as it should exist.”
Diana’s mind reeled. To be on earth for hundreds, maybe thousands of years? Did she want that?
Yes. She could be with Cadan. Never to sicken and die, to stay young and strong as he had. If her soul was going to be reborn anyway, wouldn’t it be better to stay intact as she was?
“Yes. I want that.” The words came in a rush. “Wa
it. Could I ever die?”
The idea of living forever with no escape was terrifying. She assumed it would be a good life, but shouldn’t she know all the details first?
“Your body would be made strong in the way of the Mythean Guardians. Only incredibly grievous injury could kill you. But you would be reborn as if you had died of old age. There’s no getting around that part. It’s the nature of your soul.”
Diana felt as if she were about to step off a precipice. Dare she? There really was only one choice. “All right. This is what I want.”
Andrasta nodded. “Wise. I’d take it if I were in your position.”
“Really?” How surprising. “But you’re a goddess.”
“I was mortal first. I miss earth.” She looked younger then, lonely in a way that a goddess shouldn’t be. Diana wanted to ask, but more than anything she wanted to get out of Erebus.
She ignored her guilt, and instead asked, “How will I get home?”
“I’ll see to it.” Andrasta gave a small smile and reached out to touch her shoulder.
Vivienne was floating in the sea. Or in the clouds. She wasn’t sure. Her body felt both weightless and heavy, her mind a calm, joyful serenity. Had she died? The horror of the past few days or months or years—she had no idea how long it had been—was a distant, foggy memory.
But Diana. Where was Diana? Vivienne could only hold onto the thought for the barest second before the calm joy replaced it. She stared into the whiteness above her, wondering if it was made of clouds.
“Vivienne.” A sweet voice echoed from behind her.
Weightlessly, Vivienne shifted to find the voice. A woman stood behind her, tall and dark-haired. She looked vaguely familiar. “Am I in heaven?”
