Rogue Soul (The Mythean Arcana 3) - Page 33

She handed him a key. “Upstairs, last door on the left.”

He nodded and led the way, ducking his head to climb the low, narrow staircase. It creaked and groaned under his weight, and the heat became stifling as they reached the top floor.

“No central air, I suppose?” Ana said from behind him.

He chuffed a laugh, then grunted in annoyance with himself. They reached the end of the hall and he pushed open the small door to reveal a little room with two twin beds and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. A chipped enamel sink was pressed into the corner next to a door that presumably led to the toilet.

Ana pushed past him and ran through the little door. “A shower! Oh, thank everything that ever existed, a freaking shower.”

He spun toward the exit and dragged a hand over his face. Gotta get the hell out of here—before she gets naked.

“I’ve got some stuff I need to do back at the Clara G. And plane tickets. See you in a while.”

“Wait, like, a while while?” She peeked out of the bathroom.

He weighed it in his mind. A night on the Clara G. would be best for him. And for her. But he couldn’t sleep there. It was one thing to be working on the boat or out in town, awake and vigilant. Sleeping outside the protection of the hidden room… That was a bad idea.

“A while. I’ll be back before it’s time to sleep,” he said. “You should be fine in the street as long as you’re paying attention. You’d know if another god showed up, right?”

One of the few perks of being a Celtic demigod: he’d feel the change in the aether if a Celtic god popped out of it and into town. She should too.

“Yeah.”

“Good. If you feel anything strange when you’re out of the room, sneak back here and wait it out. Don’t come get me. I can get here on my own.” He didn’t assume she would. But better for her to be safe in here.

“Okay. Um. Well, see you, I guess.”

“Yeah.” He made a hasty retreat.

Shoving Ana from his mind, he swung by the small airport and found that there was a flight headed to Miami the next morning. It gave him enough time to rent dock space for the Clara G. and batten down the hatches, both literally and figuratively.

But when all the loose odds and ends were stowed and the Clara G. was prepared to ride out whatever weather might hit Bruxa’s Eye while he was away, he realized he had no idea what to do with himself. He’d pushed himself while cleaning up the boat, hoping that the effort would clear his mind of Ana and what had happened earlier today.

It had, mostly. But hard work meant that the job was finished quickly, and when it was, everything he’d been running from caught up with him. Full dark had fallen, but it was still too early to go back to the room. To Ana.

He looked down at his hands, realized they were clenched tightly on the half-wall of the pilothouse, and finally had a good idea.

A fight. That was what he needed. To turn some of this confusion and lust and fucking hurt into aggression to get it all out of himself.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Southeast Celtic Britain, 13 AD

Territory between the Iceni and Trinovante Kingdoms

Snowflakes hurtled through the air on a cutting wind, dragging at Andrasta’s cloak and pelting her face. The cold numbed her until she couldn’t shiver and her fingers froze around the shaft of her bow. Fear tore through her mind, harsher than the wind.

She’d left the gods nearly an hour ago and set off toward the clearing to find Camulos and commit her terrible deed. But the gods hadn’t left her.

No, they appeared at the corners of her vision, disappearing just as she turned to look. Her anxiety had become a great clawed beast that tore at her insides to escape. Marrek was bleeding in the snow even now, while Hafgan waited in the wings. Her brothers were strong, but even they couldn’t fight a god they couldn’t see.

The gods were cowards. But she was their puppet.

She pushed herself harder through snow that rose to her calves. It fell from the sky as a great cloud of white, so thick that she could barely make out the trees on the other side of the clearing. But she didn’t see Camulos within the great empty space.

Something flashed out of the corner of her eye. She swung toward it, nearly releasing the string of the bow that she’d drawn.

Nothing. Whatever it was had disappeared. She cursed, turned back to the clearing.

Tags: Linsey Hall The Mythean Arcana Paranormal
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