Braving Fate (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 1) (32 page)

To a damn soulceress.
 

“What?” she asked, confusion and hurt on her face. She moved toward him.

He sidestepped. This had to stop. He couldn’t fight it.

“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…”
 

“No, they’re unreachable. If they’re meant to be reborn, they will be.” Andrasta seemed to be able to guess her thoughts before they left her mouth. Diana was grateful. The questions were almost too painful to complete.

“There’s no other way to get them out?”
 

“I’m sorry, but no. That is the nature of our world, our beliefs.”

Diana felt sick. “Then what if I don’t believe it?”

“It wouldn’t matter. It’s what they believe that counts. And even if it were your choice, this is a matter of belief, not desire. Controlling belief is a difficult thing. You may think you are convincing yourself, but your subconscious knows. You’ve believed in this fate for thousands of years.”

The words hit her like a brick. Memories flared in her mind. She remembered exactly what Andrasta had told her before, two thousand years ago. Her stomach roiled. “You told me my fate, the last time we met here. Told me that I would die, but that it would be so that I could complete what I had started. Did you know that this was how it would go? That as Boudica, I would kill myself so that I could keep Paulinus in hell?”
And possibly atone for the boy?

“I didn’t know exactly how it would happen, but I didn’t want you to have to kill yourself. You were my favorite mortal.” A small smile kicked up the corner of her mouth.

So that was the reason she’d been so quick to leave Cadan. Not just to save her people, and not just to avoid capture. So that she could do what had to be done. She’d been meant to do this for thousands of years.

“Is it true, then?” Diana asked. “The myth about you and Camulos?”

Andrasta grimaced and nodded. “There’s more to it than what’s recorded, but the gist of it is accurate. It sucked.”

“Is that how I’m supposed to get to Erebus?”

“It would work,” Andrasta said. “Paulinus will continue to send harpies after you until he has you. Going on your terms will give you an advantage. And sooner is better than later. The magic he’s been working has strengthened the portal. It will become easier for beings to escape.”

“And everyone will get out?” Diana’s voice was weak. “Erebus is where dead Roman warriors go. There will be thousands of pissed-off warriors loose in Edinburgh?”
 

Andrasta shrugged. “Maybe. But probably not, since they’re only souls without bodies. That’s what Paulinus needs you for—to give his soul a form and path back to this world. No, it would be the harpies and other demons who’d be able to use the portal, as they have both their bodies and their souls. As Mytheans, they can cross the barriers without the death it usually takes to grant a mortal passage.”

“How do I kill Paulinus? How do I destroy him so that he never comes back?”

“The same way that you would kill him on earth. He doesn’t have an earthly body, but he’s no ghost either. As the person who killed him the first time, only you can kill him again. And you’re the only one who can dispatch his afterworld form.”

“Wait...what? What about his soul? Is that different from his afterworld form?”

“Ah, good catch. We don’t know if it would be destroyed. Perhaps it would, or perhaps it would go elsewhere. Souls are pretty tough.”

“But what about the myth? The story of you and Camulos? You destroyed his soul in Otherworld.”

“Thought I did. And for a long time, we thought that he was gone forever. I’ve very recently discovered that might not actually be the case. He’s probably still alive.”
 

Were her eyes a little brighter?
 

“So, that’s why you don’t think I can destroy Paulinus’s soul?”

“Yes.”

Diana’s chest constricted. If Camulos could come back after Andrasta had killed him...

“So, is there no way to destroy Paulinus so that he can never hurt us again?” Diana asked.

“Well, there’s no way for
you
to destroy him forever.” She hesitated before continuing, searching Diana’s face as if she were debating her next words. “But if he were to kill
himself
, then yes, possibly. The universe allows us choice, and if he were to make the choice, particularly if it were in sacrifice, then his soul would probably disappear.”

“Wait—why sacrifice?”

“It’s one of the most powerful forces there is. Just killing yourself in the afterworld could destroy your soul, but it’s not a sure thing. What would hell be if you could escape it? However, a sacrifice can give it that extra push.”

So, like her survival, truly defeating Paulinus was possible but not probable. “And what about me? Could I survive this?”

“In some form or another, yes. You’ll always survive.”

“You were made a god.”

“Those were very different circumstances.” Andrasta frowned sympathetically.
 

Diana’s shoulders drooped. “I didn’t really want to be made a god. But I didn’t want to die either.”

“I know. You’ll probably be reincarnated as you were before.”

“That’s it? That’s my best bet?” Wait another two thousand years to be reborn? Where would Cadan be by then?

“Yeah, I’m really sorry I can’t give you more. But you are the key to this, and it won’t necessarily end in tragedy. But I’ve run out of earth time and the other gods will notice my absence. I’ve got to go.”

“Thanks, Andrasta.” And she was grateful. She really was. But with everything looming on the horizon, it was hard to remember.

“Of course. It’s not often that I get out of Otherworld. Earth rocks.” The goddess looked away from her then and around the clearing. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

It looked pretty bleak to Diana, but maybe that was because she’d died here before. “The clearing?”

“Earth.” Andrasta reached down to pick up a handful of fallen leaves. She inhaled deeply of their fragrance, then let them flutter to the ground. Diana caught sight of a hint of green in the leaves, as if the life had returned to them after Andrasta’s touch.

“I suppose. But you’re from the land of the gods. Isn’t it beautiful there?”

Andrasta sighed. “It’s not home.”

The comment squeezed Diana’s heart. Andrasta had been mortal, after all. “Would you return here if you could?”

“I’d give anything.”

So would I.
But how was she going to make that happen?