by Hall, Linsey
“I have no idea. But there’s no record of him being insane. A rental isn’t like your own house, you know? So just leave the lights on and wait in the living room. It’ll probably be fine.”
Cam didn’t love the sound of that, but he also didn’t love the sound of waiting in the car. It’d be damn hard to defend them while he was sitting. And lurking outside was too threatening.
“I see. One last thing. What is he? Can he aetherwalk?”
“Don’t quite know what he is, but he is Mythean. And I’ve never heard of him aetherwalking.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He hung up when the line went dead.
“It’s him?” Ana asked.
“Think so. Come on. Let’s go in the living room so that when he arrives we’re not shifting around through his stuff. He probably doesn’t aetherwalk, so we’ll have to hear his car come up the drive.”
He flipped off the light and glanced back to make sure the room looked the same as when they’d entered. When they reached the tiny room with its overstuffed couch, Ana went straight to the window and peered out into the darkness.
“It’s a mess out there. Really coming down now,” she said.
Cam flipped on two of the lamps so that a low glow would shine out the window and stepped up behind her to look out into the night.
“Damn. It’ll be a while before he’s back,” he said, trying to focus on the view rather than the heat of her back pressed against him. The memory of last night in the pub made him shift behind her, drawing his hips away. Now was not the time for a fucking hard-on.
She slipped her quiver from her back, let it slip to the floor, and leaned back against him. He couldn’t stifle the sigh that escaped him. He wrapped an arm about her middle and pulled her back to rest against him.
“It’s barely seven. We might as well keep a lookout,” she said, resting her head against his chest.
He nodded and reached over to turn off the closest lamp so that they could see out. There was still enough light to alert Logan when he came home, and their shadows in the window would be a big clue.
“Do you really think Cernowain used the rain in Inverness to send his boars to find us?” Ana asked, idly running her hand up and down the arm Cam had wrapped around her waist. Her other hand hung at her hip, gripping her bow so that it rested against his thigh. He swore he could feel her all over his body, and he had to shake his head to focus.
“I don’t know. Seems odd. But I suppose. They’re determined to have you back.”
“It’s not my destiny.”
“No. It was mine.”
“But you hated Otherworld. And your destiny.”
“True. But it’s hard not to feel like I ran from something that felt wrong without even trying to fix it.”
“Part of you wants to go back, doesn’t it?” Her voice wavered, so slightly that he could barely hear it.
It shot a pang through his heart even as that same heart leapt at the idea that she would miss him. He spun her to face him, vaguely registering her bow hitting the carpet and her hands coming up to grip his shirt.
“Yes, but I have important work to do here, back in the jungle. I can’t leave it. But more than that, I’d rather be here with you. A thousand times over.” He’d realized it as soon as Druantia had told him that Logan wasn’t there. With the safety net that Logan provided gone, the likelihood that he might have to go in order to save Ana had hit him hard. He’d realized without a doubt that he didn’t want to leave her, not even to fulfill the destiny that he’d been running from.
A tremulous smile stretched across her face. “Good.” She reached up to yank his head down to hers. The press of her lips drove any thought of liking or loving from his brain, and he gripped her tighter to him.
The feel of her body, hot and soft and curved, drew his hands, desperate to touch as much of her as he could in the few seconds they had to spare before common sense returned. The shadow of all that weighed on them hovered at the corner of his mind as he bit her bottom lip and tugged with his teeth. When she moaned, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, stroking and tasting and wishing it could go on but knowing it couldn’t.
He broke the kiss, his chest heaving, and leaned his forehead against hers while his hands gripped her hips. “Ana, the things I feel with you.”
She clutched his shirt. “Don’t leave me. Logan will agree to go, and it’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.” There was the barest crazed edge to her voice, but she spun quickly and put her hands against the window to peer out.
He stepped up behind her and reached for her hand. After a few minutes, she relaxed enough to lean back against his chest. They watched out the window for nearly an hour, hypnotized by the falling snow. Finally, it started to lighten.
“If he’s been waiting this out in the village, he should be heading back soon,” Cam said.
Ana nodded, her gaze still intent on the outside. It was another hour before headlights came down the drive. Ana stiffened in his arms.
“Wow. I can’t believe this is happening,” Ana said. She bent down to pick up her quiver.
“Leave it.” He touched her arm and she straightened. “Close enough that you can get to it if you need it. But he knows we’re here. I’m a fast draw, and we don’t want him to feel threatened if he sees us armed.”
Ana watched the man climb out of a Range Rover. Her eyes met his through the window and a chill raced across her skin on tiny mouse feet. Suspicion stretched across his face at the sight of her in his house, but she didn’t see anger or fear.
No, it didn’t look like anything would frighten this man. He was tall, with a lean strength that couldn’t be concealed by his black winter coat. His strides ate up the ground too quickly as he headed toward the house.
The front door creaked as it opened, the sound ominous in the silence. A rush of cold air followed Logan inside, but Ana couldn’t really feel it. She was too focused on the man who stepped into the living room. He was eerily beautiful, with inky hair and eyes that only emphasized his pale skin.
He had more than just dark color in his eyes. He had dark thoughts as well. They made him a type of scary handsome. But not like Cam, who looked as if he could beat the shit out of anyone with his fists without breaking a sweat. No, this man was another kind of frightening, a kind she wasn’t familiar with because she hadn’t felt fear in a very long time. She swallowed hard.
“Visitors?” His raspy voice carried a sarcastic twist.
“Um, no,” Ana said, unsure of how to start now that he was here and pinning her with his black gaze. No, not her. Cam, who was standing behind her. Was he looking at Cam strangely? “I’m Ana, Celtic goddess of victory. This is Cam, a Celtic demigod.”
There. She saw it. A light of recognition in his eyes. She looked behind her to see suspicion in Cam’s gaze. Did he recognize him? She tried to catch Cam’s eyes, but his were glued to Logan.
Fates, this was already going poorly. She’d expected this to be awkward; they were sitting in this man’s living room, after all. But something was off, something that made her heart climb into her throat and beat like a moth trying to escape a jar.
“Why are you here?” Logan asked.
She rushed to make her offer before the suspense made her pass out. “You see, I don’t want to be a god anymore. And we heard that you’re an incredible archer. Strong enough to maybe take my place if you wanted to. Be a Celtic war god, that is.”
A sardonic smile twisted his lips, and a chill raced down her spine. “That’s an interesting offer.”
“It’s a lot of prestige.” The words tumbled from Ana’s lips. He had to agree. He had to.
“Ana,” Cam said, warning in his voice.
But she ignored him, her tongue running away from her mind in her desperation to convince him. This was her last, her only, chance. “It’s not the most exciting place in the universe, but Otherworld is lovely. And you’d be a god. The respect and fear people show you is great.” He had to agree it wa
s a good deal.
“Being a god does sound good,” he said, that strange smile still cutting across his face. “But I’m —”
The rubber-band snap of many gods appearing in the living room made Ana’s knees weaken. They filled the space, a dozen or more of the most powerful gods in Otherworld crowded into the room. Their eyes found her before she could count them all, and every expression was darker than the last. Logan looked on with interest, and she remembered that he was the only person besides her who could see Cam.
Her heart almost burst from her chest when she caught sight of Hafgan and Arawn, the kings of Otherworld. Their eyes zeroed in on her and they stalked toward her.
“Ana, your time is up,” Hafgan said, his voice carrying the low roll of thunder. “You’re coming back to Otherworld, to Blackmoor, where you’ll live out your punishment.”
The tor. Where she’d be chained to the granite in the wind and the rain and the snow to fully realize her stupidity and pride. As the thought flashed in her mind, she felt Cam back away from her. The cold slick of sweat broke out on her skin and she spun to face him.
Her jaw dropped when he plucked the blue-fletched arrow out of her quiver. The one they’d already anointed with the demigod potion.
“Cam, no!” She reached out to stop him.
So fast that she could barely follow the motion of his hands, Cam plucked her bow off the ground and nocked the arrow. She was staring down the shaft of her own arrow.
He shot. Pain exploded in her chest where the arrow struck, and his face, twisted with determination and horror, was the last thing she saw before she collapsed.
The sticky warmth of her blood pooled beneath her back as her vision went black. Unidentifiable noises echoed in her ears, but she couldn’t decipher words. She felt her power leaving like a physical thing, draining out with her blood. Was someone touching her? She tried to move her hand but couldn’t.
Cam? Her last thoughts raced across her mind as the chill spread out from her chest. Cam had chosen Otherworld over her, or for her. So hard to tell, the way her thoughts tumbled in her mind, each grappling to be the truth. Fears and hopes, all worthless now. But one thing stood clear in her fading mind. With all her options taken away, she realized that what she really wanted, more than life on earth or any of the exciting things she’d longed for, was him.
And now he would be trapped in Otherworld, chained to a tor on Blackmoor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Seconds slowed to hours as the room erupted into shouts and chaos. An invisible hand squeezed Cam’s throat as his gaze locked on Ana’s body. She seemed to fall in slow motion, the blue-fletched arrow protruding from her chest and her eyes wide with surprise. The bow that had felt so natural and wonderful in his hands now felt unfamiliar. Foreign and evil.
The thud of her body hitting the ground spurred him into action. He was at her side in moments, his hands tangled in her hair, his chest and mind on fire. Her mouth was slack, her eyes half closed. Not dead. Not yet. And thus the gods couldn’t see him. The sight of the blood that pooled beneath her body struck his mind like a blow and wrapped his heart in barbed wire.
Familiar. He’d done it to save her, but that didn’t take away the horror of watching her die. Or the eerie feeling that he’d watched her die before. He blinked the vision away.
She went still barely a second later, and the uproar in the room swelled. Hands yanked him back, away from Ana.
“Camulos.” The booming voice echoed through the room, but he could barely hear it. His gaze was still glued to Ana. Movement surged toward him as the gods closed in. Another pair of hands jerked him roughly, and he realized that he’d be dragged to Otherworld any moment.
He panicked. His gaze jerked around the room until it landed on the only other person who didn’t have a reason to hurt Ana. Take care of her, he pleaded with his eyes.
The other gods ignored her now, assuming her soul would arrive in Otherworld, as his had after he’d been shot so many years ago. She’d be safe, as long as they didn’t know about the potion that would turn her into a demigod.
But Logan’s face was blank, and before he received a response, Cam felt the jerk of being forced through the aether and back to Otherworld. It had been centuries since he’d aetherwalked—demigods were some of the Mytheans who lacked the ability—and the light head and queasy stomach sent him to his knees when he felt the ground beneath his feet again.
His head spun as he tried to focus his gaze on the gods surrounding him. They’d taken him directly to Blackmoor, to endure the fate they’d had planned for Ana. She’d only tried to escape. He actually had. And they could see that he was a god again. If anyone deserved to be imprisoned in Otherworld’s most desolate moor, windswept and miserable, it was he.
But even in the worst part of Otherworld, he realized how wrong he’d been to run. Power surged through his veins, singing along his nerve endings and clearing his mind. He was meant for this. No matter how wrong Otherworld felt to him, being restored to godhood felt as natural as breathing.
“Camulos. You ran from Otherworld.”
Cam’s eyes jerked to the god who possessed the booming voice. Hafgan. King of the Otherworld, with Arawn, the other king, standing next to him. Large black birds of all sorts circled in the sky above, flying low beneath the heavy clouds and buffeted by the roaring winds. Freezing rain would come soon, and here, even a god was susceptible to the misery.
Hafgan glared at him, clearly awaiting a response. He was an enormous man, all wild red hair that was a darker, more vibrant shade than Cam’s. A rough brown cloak swirled about him, and the gold of the torc around his neck gleamed. The other gods were garbed similarly, given that they almost never left Otherworld for earth. They all glared at him. All except Aerten, the goddess of fate, who hung back, a strange expression on her face.
Cam’s gaze returned to Hafgan and he jerked his chin up. “Fuck you, Hafgan.”
Hafgan’s mouth hardened. “Is that all you have to say in your defense?”
Cam laughed, then jerked at the hands that pressed on his shoulders. They were firm as iron. So he was stuck kneeling in front of these assholes. “What the fuck do you want me to say? That these jackoffs”—he nodded to the cluster of gods who had coerced Ana into coming to Otherworld to kill him all those years ago—“plotted to have me killed? What the hell were they thinking, that Ana could possibly have killed me?”
Now that he was thinking about the past, it made the long-repressed rage push at the edges of the cage he’d used to trap it. And their arrival had fucked things up with Ana in the future, as well.
“What kind of fucking trap was that, you fuckers?” he demanded, his breath heaving. He struggled against the hands holding him. Iron.
“A test.” Thunder boomed as Hafgan answered. “You should have killed her when you found her, as we do with mortals whose skills match our own. Yet you acted mortal.”
He’d known that his hesitation all those years ago had signed his death warrant. Hafgan was right—he had acted like a mortal. But the way he felt now, how right it felt to be a god again, made him realize that he’d been wrong to think emotion made him lesser.
“Fuck that. I acted as a god.” He spat out the words. “Something’s wrong here in Otherworld. Why do we feel fucking nothing when all the other gods—Roman, Greek, Norse, Mayan, you name it—have feelings as the mortals do?”
“We’re superior to the other religions.” Hafgan crossed his arms over his chest, but the eyes of the other gods shifted.
“Sure, tell yourself that when you jerk off. But it’s not the fucking truth.” The afterworlds were all equal, none more powerful than any other. It was the truth of their worlds. The mortal world was where the power lay, for it was mortals’ belief that made the afterworlds exist. Maintaining that equality, and making sure none of the gods made a stupid power play, was of the utmost importance to peace and one of the primary purposes of the Immortal University.
Hafgan ign
ored his statement. “You’ve run once. And with no defense worthy of a reprieve, you’re sentenced to a thousand years on the tor.”
Fuck. Cam heaved against his captors, his muscles straining. But the gods had finished their trial. Two others joined the gods restraining him and dragged him to the nearest tor, a great granite pile of rocks that punched through the earth and rose toward the sky.
“You’re just looking to punish someone, aren’t you? You’re making a fucking mistake,” Cam roared. Thunder boomed in the distance, echoing his rage.
His captors climbed, dragging him along. Freezing rain heaved down from the heavens, making the granite slippery. The gods trudged on.
“Chain him.” Hafgan’s voice carried from the ground, and the lesser gods followed his command.
They grappled and struggled, but soon they forced Cam to lie atop the great rock. Gofannon, god of metalworking, brought forth unbreakable chains and threw them across Cam. He grunted when they crushed his ribs.
Of their own volition, the chains wrapped about his body, drawing bone-crushingly tight, then thrust their length through the granite to hold him. The rain had turned to hail, giant fist-sized chunks that shattered upon hitting the tor but not upon hitting Cam’s body. No, those merely bounced off after leaving a cracked rib or a crushed kidney. Rain blurred his vision and all he felt was pain.
He heard the gods scramble off the tor, returning to the scrubby ground, which was covered in dead heather.
They said nothing—finished with him for the next thousand years—and disappeared. The wind howled louder in their absence. Cam struggled against the chains, muscles bunching and straining, sweat breaking out on his cold brow. The iron cut more fiercely into his skin with every twitch of his muscles, driving deeper into the granite until no matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t move an inch.
His mind felt as trapped as his body. Worse, for all the horrors that it could envision. Had Ana awoken? The memory of the blood seeping through her shirt and out from under her punched into his mind again. Familiar.