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.
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.