by Hall, Linsey
Whoa. Goddess was right. Esha reeled from the hit of power she got off Aerten. It felt like the hit she got off her only friend Andrasta, the Celtic goddess of war. She didn’t get to see her much, but when she did, boy, was it something.
Esha smiled somewhat drunkenly at the serene figure who’d also risen to greet her. “Hi,” she said, holding out her hand. “Celtic, right?”
The woman nodded as she sat. Esha took the chair next to her. “Well done of you to know. Sometimes it seems there are so many of us from various faiths that it can be hard to keep straight.”
That was the truth. “I studied up once I got to the university and realized how much there was to the world.”
And you’re colleagues with my friend, which I’m not allowed to tell you since it would ruin her trips sneaking out of Otherworld .
Aerten nodded. “The Mythean Guardians are supposed to protect those who are important to the fate of humanity. My sight allows me to see who those individuals might be, and to select the Mythean Guardians from the bravest mortals. But my name does mean renowned in battle for a reason.” She smiled wryly. “That was a long time ago, though. Now I’m a bureaucrat, and Warren is the real head of the Praesidium.”
“I see. But you don’t come around here often. At least not when I’m here. I’d feel it.” Hoo boy, was she feeling it.
“Celtic gods don’t really leave Otherworld. I’m an exception because of my duties to the Mythean Guard, but even I can only come for very important reasons. And you are a very important reason.”
“Me?” She squashed a tiny flush of pride. Wasn’t this about Erebus?
“Aye,” Warren said, and she had to work a little harder to crush the burst of happiness. “As you know, we invited you to the university because of your power. But because of the way you reap your power, we weren’t exactly sure how to use you other than as a mercenary.”
“Now you have?”
“With your discoveries in the underground, and recent complications, we have,” Warren said.
“Complications?” Esha asked.
“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Aerten said.
Esha frowned, but nodded at them to continue.
“Warren has proposed that we add you to the Praesidium.”
Esha tried to keep her jaw from slackening. Why would Warren do this for her? She liked her badass solo merc status, but if she were honest, she’d longed to be part of a team. Just once, to see what it felt like. But it was too weird.
“Oh, hey, thanks, but I’m not a team player,” she said.
“You doona need to be,” Warren said. “You’d be a consultant. Your discovery in the underground highlights your skill, and we’ve recently determined we need some of your other talents. I’ve never spoken to you much before this recent problem, but I realized that you don’t drain my powers.”
He really wanted her to join the Praesidium?
“What do you think?” the goddess asked.
She must be here to make the whole deal official, Esha thought.
“Could you work with us on a consultant basis? You’d retain your current duties, but we want to ensure that you come to our department when you find something strange, as you did in the underground. Or that you’ll work for us when we need you to,” Aerten said.
Esha mulled it over. It would be nice to be part of a team. Not that she needed them, or anything. “What’s in it for me?”
“We’ll pay you more,” Warren said.
“Triple?” They already paid her pretty damn well, but why not shoot high?
“Double.” Warren’s voice was firm.
“All right, good deal. I’d have settled for half again, anyway.” She smiled and held out her hand, first to Aerten since she was the big boss, and then to Warren. Her palm tingled where it touched his.
“You mentioned recent complications with the underground?” she asked.
Aerten nodded, her face grim. “The two Mythean Guardians that Warren stationed at the portal to Erebus intercepted four demons abducting a mortal female. They tried to save her, and Lorne, one of the guardians, was killed. Three of the demons were destroyed, but one took the soul of the mortal into Erebus. The mortal’s body is in a coma here in the infirmary.”
“Shit. Are you sure she’s mortal?”
“Honestly, we’re not. A mortal body normally wouldn’t survive going through a portal to an afterworld. If she’s a Mythean, there’s no sign of what kind. We’re not even sure if she’s a victim or an accomplice who went willingly. We’d like you to take a look at her to see if any shadows of evil remain with her body.”
“Sure, I can try. But even if she was evil, it’s not a given that the shadows would stay behind with the body. Most often they follow the soul.”
“Give it your best shot,” Warren said.
Esha nodded and followed them out the door. Warren led her and Aerten across campus to the infirmary. The day had turned rainy and miserable and Esha used the power she got off Aerten to create a dry space around herself and the Chairman. He sulked for hours if he had to get wet.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the goddess hadn’t created a dry spot for herself to walk through and wondered about it. Surely she had the power to do so. As Esha looked closer, she realized that the goddess was looking at the raindrops on the back of her hand and smiling. Weird.
Esha glanced at Warren. He’d popped up the collar of his jacket to keep his neck dry and had his head bent. She waved a hand and created a dry space over him as well.
He jerked, then looked at her. A rusty and tentative smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “Thanks.”
She nodded, then looked back at the rolling hills of campus and the big gray building that housed the infirmary on the first floor. They hurried up the steps, through the big wooden door, and down the hall into a long room with a dozen beds. Only one bed had an occupant and they walked up to it.
“What’s her name?” Esha said as she looked down at the body of the beautiful, dark-haired woman. She was hooked up to machines to monitor her vitals, but she looked peaceful. Esha could already tell that there was no evil attached to the woman.
“Vivienne Lawrence. American,” Warren said. “She had a driving license in her bag. It’s hard to say where they got her from, but I think they aetherwalked her straight from America to the portal because she dinna have a passport to get through Customs.”
“Well, I don’t see any shadows,” Esha said. “Either they followed the soul, or she’s a good person,” Esha said.
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Aerten said. “If they’ve abducted a mortal nonbeliever, there’ll be hell to pay. And now there’s a scared mortal trapped in the wrong hell.”
Esha nodded, still staring at the woman and puzzling over the mystery. But Aerten was right. Abducting living mortals to an afterworld, especially mortals who didn’t believe in said afterworld, was hugely against the rules. The university would have to get involved.
With a last look at the woman, they walked out of the infirmary and out under the covered porte cochere at the front of the building.
“I appreciate your help with this. And I’m glad you’ll be joining us,” Aerten said. She smiled, then disappeared to return to Otherworld.
Warren looked out at the rain. Esha had made a magical umbrella over his head on the walk here. It made his chest feel warm, which worried him. With good feelings came bad. He’d heard a saying once that the bad things in life allowed you to appreciate the good things. For him, it was the opposite. The good things reminded him how bad things were, both in his past and in his soulless future.
Esha was becoming a good thing in his life, as complicated as she was. A soulceress, for gods’ sake. Of all the species to feel something for, he’d chosen the type who had gotten him into his soulless state, which he despised. He was no longer mortal, but neither was he Mythean, and he despised it.
He should leave now. Staying around Esha was bad for his s
anity. He’d never before seen her so frequently or in such proximity, and the contact was only heightening his fascination with her. His past wariness and avoidance of her species had been wise. Now, it was impossible.
She’d crept into his dreams these last days, slipping away as the sun rose, leaving him hot, hard, and disgusted with himself. Yet he couldn’t get his stupid mind off her. He bit the inside of his cheek hard and focused on the pain and the present.
“Thank you for agreeing to this arrangement,” he said to her. “It’s a very good move for the Praesidium. We’ve been underutilizing you by having you work solo. I’ll call on you when I need you for something.”
She nodded, then said, “Hey, what about the portal in the underground? This isn’t a coincidence. Have you put any more thought toward telling the reincarnate? I know you said it’s dangerous, but this is just too much to ignore.”
He stifled a frustrated groan. “You’ve got to trust me, Esha. It’s a dangerous idea. I called her guardian and warned him. Maybe once she remembers who she was, we can suggest the portal to her. Maybe. Until then, our meddling will only make things worse.”
“I really think it would help,” she said. “This has to be it.”
“Nay.” His voice was hard and she flinched. He almost apologized, but didn’t want to soften the warning. “I’m serious. It would be bad to tell her anything before she remembers who she is. Tell me you won’t.”
She shot him a suspicious look and nodded.
Hell, that could go either way.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Watch out, lassie.”
Cadan’s warning came soon enough for Diana to dodge a puddle in the damp grass that stretched between the tumbling ruins. He’d upheld the agreement he’d made last night to take her to Verulamium, and they now walked amongst the stone walls.
He’d called his colleague Esha on the phone last night to ask if she could make a portal for them to travel through. Diana could tell he’d been surprised when Esha had agreed. Apparently she was a type of Mythean who could only perform her magic when she had enough power stocked up. The portal spell was a big one, so big that she rarely had that kind of juice.
Fortunately for Diana, this morning she had. Esha was able to create the portal without coming to Cadan’s house. Diana and Cadan had stepped through it in Cadan’s kitchen and out into Verulamium a second later. They had eight hours in which to get back through. This world got weirder with every day she spent in it.
“Be quick, Diana. It’s no’ safe for you here,” he said from behind her as they wove their way around collapsed stone walls and piles of rock.
“I’ll be fine. Quit being so overprotective and keep an eye out for anything unusual.” She glanced around at the ruins that looked like an old fortress with broken-down walls.
She shivered when the chill morning air cut through her thin jacket. Or perhaps it was the creepy feeling of the ruins that had her shivering. A fine English drizzle turned the sky into a gray, dreary backdrop for their adventure. With the soft grass beneath their feet, even footsteps couldn’t be heard in the silence.
Cadan followed close behind her, so near that she could almost feel the heat of him. She’d felt his eyes on her since they’d stepped out of the portal. Even when he scanned their surroundings, he was always sure to have her in his line of sight.
“Nothing to be found here, lassie. It’s been four hours.”
No, damn it. She would find something here. Except that she was starting to fear that the secrets of this place weren’t on the surface. Perhaps they were underground, but she was a historian, not an archaeologist.
“Just a few more minutes, because I don’t get it. I really recognized this place in the photo. I could feel it.”
But now that she was actually here, the view was entirely unfamiliar. Perhaps she’d once looked upon this place rather than actually been inside it? The photo had been a long-range shot from the nearby hill. Maybe that was it.
“Let’s climb up that hill.” She pointed toward the only rise.
He scowled, scanning their surroundings for danger. His broad shoulders were tense, the muscles of his arms in sharp relief. Cadan clearly liked things to go his way, and this wasn’t what he’d have chosen.
“Really, lassie? Isn’t it bad enough we’re out here with only these bloody tiny walls for cover? You want to climb up that hill there, in the open for all to see?”
“Which all? We’re alone here. Come on.” She headed off toward the hill. He’d catch up.
He did. Too soon. She hadn’t made it a few feet before he swept her up in his arms and swung her around to press her against one of the stone walls. His big body was hot against hers while the cold stone pressed into her back.
“Have a care, lassie. I’m this close to swinging you over my shoulder and carrying you back to my home. Doona be charging off like that again. You’ll stay near me.”
Though his tone was harsh, his grip on her arms gradually loosened. As he stared down at her, his dark brows drew together and something fierce flashed in his eyes.
“Either kiss me or let go.” She couldn’t believe she’d said that, but she meant it. He had to make up his damned mind.
He scowled at her, but she almost—almost—thought she saw longing. Then he released her and looked away as if the moment that had passed between them had flown away on the wind, or never existed at all.
Her heart didn’t sink. Not even a little.
“To the hill, lassie.”
She turned from him and headed toward the hill. If she could get to the top and look down—
A small sign caught her attention and made her breath catch in her throat. There, nestled against the western edge of the fort with a bit of bright green grass tufted at the base, was a sign that read Watling Street. In a daze, she walked up to it, the big hill in the distance forgotten. She could vaguely make out the sound of Cadan calling her name, but the buzzing in her ears drowned it out.
Watling Street. How had she not noticed this before from the books?
“The hill, lassie?”
“No, Cadan.” She reached out with a trembling hand to touch the sign. It wasn’t old, just a tourist marker, and one she’d never seen before, but it marked the remnants of a road that was two thousand years old. “You’ve got to see this.”
She looked over to see him striding through the ruins toward her, his big body moving gracefully among the tumbled stones. She caught sight of his eyes when his gaze landed on the sign. Surprise and also something like dread? But it was gone in a flash.
“You recognize Watling Street, don’t you?” She certainly did. Any scholar in her field worth their tweed coat would recognize Watling Street.
“It’s a historic road.”
“Not just any historic road. A Roman road. Scholars think that the last big battle between the Celts and Romans took place near Watling Street.”
There—it flashed across his face again. She was definitely on to something. And he’d definitely been lying.
“A warrior queen led the battle, but she lost.” A chill ran over her skin. “That battle was famous for having women as the last line of defense. They fought with the men.”
She looked around the place with new eyes. She had seen this place, then, but she’d probably never been inside. To go inside as a Celtic woman would have spelled disaster, the kind that she’d now feel if she’d been there. No, she’d probably looked upon it from afar, maybe even from on the hill.
“I was one of those women, Cadan. But which one?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Diana trudged up the wide wooden stairs to the second floor of Cadan’s house. They’d just returned from the ruined Roman fort and she was beyond ready to fall into bed. Even the wind had more energy than she did; it roared as it hit the house and dragged along crevices formed by windows and eaves. It would carry a storm, she was almost certain, and that suited her mood perfectly. Maybe it would drown out the chaos in her mind.<
br />
She finally had a lead. If she hadn’t been the warrior queen—which she wasn’t, since there was nothing regal or particularly warriorlike about her—she must have been one of the soldier women who’d chosen to make up the last line of defense between the Romans and the Celtic children and homes. She did have that dream about protecting her daughters, after all. She could almost see it. It...fit. A bit like an awkwardly large coat, but it fit.
Diana flicked on the light switch as she walked into her room. Just as she reached the bathroom door, a voice from behind said, “Nice sword.”
Shock dropped her stomach to her toes as her fist tightened on the sword she’d taken to Verulamium. She whirled around to see a lanky, dark-haired woman reclining in the big wing chair in the corner. The chair had been out of her line of sight when she’d entered the room. A scruffy black cat lounged by her side.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” She worked to make her voice brave.
“I’m Esha. And this—” She pointed to the cat who’d started to clean himself shamelessly. “—is Chairman Meow.”
Diana’s heart slowed its gallop. “You’re the one who made the portal for Cadan and me to go to Verulamium.”
“Yep.”
“Why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Not Cadan?”
“No. You, specifically. He’s not going to come up here anytime soon, right?”
At her words, the cat lowered the leg he’d stuck up into the air while grooming and sauntered toward the door to peer out. Double weird.
“I don’t think so, but you never know.” Diana decided not to be afraid of the woman who’d done nothing but help her. And who, most important, wanted to speak to her specifically. As if she had information. “Why did you want to talk to me? Do you know who I was?”
“I don’t know any details, and even if I did, I’ve been warned against giving you too much information. But I think I have some clues about your task. And those, I am gut certain you need to know.”