Secret Worlds (273 page)

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.