“I doona want you.”
“Yes, you do. I’m not an idiot. I see the way you look at me.”
“I doona bloody want you. You’re a soulceress, for gods’ sakes.” It was a godsdamned lie, but it came out easy, pushed by the panic.
Her eyes stopped shining and took on a leaden cast. She stepped backward.
“Ugh. Boring. Always with the soulcery business.” Her words were light but her tone wasn’t. She strolled over to the couch but didn’t sit. “Like I have the fucking plague or something. I really thought you were different, Warren. What’s your problem, anyway? You’re a damned mystery monster. I don’t drain your power, so what have you got against me?”
Her tone was acid, but he swore he could hear a note of vulnerability in it. It made him feel even worse, which only exacerbated the crazy panic within him. He didn’t know how to deal with this kind of situation.
“Canna trust them,” he said.
“Ugh, you’re just like everyone else. A stupid bigot. What, you get screwed by a soulceress once?”
He started to speak, but wasn’t sure what he would say. Aye, she made me the monster that I am?
She didn’t give him a chance. “You know what? Forget I asked. My mistake. And I don’t care, anyway. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”
She threw herself onto the couch.
Now what the hell was he supposed to do? What were they supposed to do? They worked together now and he’d made a mess of things, all in an effort to preserve his stupid sanity. Which was a worthless endeavor. He’d lost it long ago.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Diana opened her eyes in the forest in central England. Esha had created a portal for her that morning, and though stepping into it alone had been like stepping off a bridge, she’d done it. She’d learned that Esha was friends with Andrasta, but that she didn’t have the power to summon the goddess.
It was fine, though. Diana had a good feeling that this would work. Her memory had restored the location of the place where she’d originally called upon Andrasta for help. It was also the place where she’d died, but Diana pushed the nerves away and looked around at the forest. She was only a few miles from the Roman fort she’d visited with Cadan. She had to come alone to ensure that Andrasta would show, and she was probably safe, but she gripped her sword tighter just in case.
The smell of the trees hit her first. It had smelled like this when she’d died. A light sweat broke out on her skin. Everything else was different, but as she walked through the forest, she swore she could smell the mud and the blood of war that lingered in the earth. Though they hadn’t fought on this ground, the battle had been waged only a hundred yards away.
No, this ground was soaked with her own blood. She stopped in a particularly thick copse of trees and began to dig at the soil with her foot, nudging aside fallen branches and piles of dead autumn leaves. It wasn’t long before she found the tumbled ring of stones that had once formed the walls of the house where she’d died. Dappled sunlight shone through the oaks above and danced in patterns on the stone.
As she revealed the rest of the ring, now rising only a couple of inches above the ground, she fought the nausea rising in her stomach. Instinct had led her here, as it had told her to clear the stones.
A raven called as she brushed the leaves off the last stone. Diana shivered. Once every stone was revealed, she stood in the spot where she had died. Where she’d been trussed up by Cadan on the night of the battle.
She had to assume he’d be able to resist his instincts this time around and let her fight her battles. He’d managed to in their first attempt against Paulinus, but there had been little risk then. With everything she’d learned, this was only getting more dangerous. Honestly, though Boudica had wanted to go it alone, she, Diana, would rather work with Cadan. She just hoped he would agree to do it on her terms. She shook the thought away and knelt on the ground.
With a steady hand, she opened the basket that she’d brought with her and released the hare, Andrasta’s sacred animal, who ran to the center of the circle. Would this even work? But as she recited the ancient words to call the goddess of victory, the words her soul still remembered, a tingle of knowledge and recognition ran over her skin.
It felt like an age, but finally the mist swirled and a woman appeared in place of the hare. Diana stared her straight in the eyes, knowing that this goddess needed no obsequious bowing or scraping. After the day she’d had, she wasn’t going to get it anyway.
Andrasta was smaller than Diana recalled, and much more delicate than one would expect of a warrior goddess. Her pale hair was pulled away from her face to reveal wise, even features. She looked so...young. She wore a leather breastplate and brown leather pants. A bow hung casually from her right hand and a quiver of arrows peeked out above one shoulder.
How did one greet a warrior goddess? Apparently her knowledge of divine protocol hadn’t transferred with Boudica’s memories.
“Boudica. Wow. It has been a long time.” Andrasta’s voice was nothing like she’d expected. Perky, and with an entirely modern cadence and word choice.
“Um, it’s Diana, now.”
The goddess nodded and swung the bow at her side. “Diana, then. I haven’t been called out of Otherworld in centuries.”
“Where are my daughters?” Diana started—she hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth. But after seeing Paulinus’s son, the knowledge that they technically still existed, even if it was in another form, had been creeping in her mind.
“In Otherworld. They’re happy, though.” Diana could almost hear the pity in Andrasta’s voice.
“So, I can’t…”